Burnt chicken and Coop Samplers

Chicken sliders, when cooked correctly, are mini chicken sandwiches straight from heaven. Think of Chick-fil-e on steroids. Juicy, lightly breaded pieces of chicken that are sandwiched between sublimely soft dinner rolls with honey mustard and some pickles. Order four if you're hungry. Eight if your serious. Add cheese if you're in it to win it. These lovely bites of manna are relatively new to the menu, and we do not have a timer button for them on the fry station. You set the timer for chicken tenders, then hope for the best if you have a lot of tickets. Like I did this evening. Lots and lots of tickets for Coop Samplers (more on those demonic creations in a minute).

I set the timer as I hear a really long ticket come in on my station. Two Coop Samplers, 20 wings, onion rings, and fried green beans. I also have to make six chicken tenders, a 30 count of wings, and Fish and Chips. In a kitchen, you must never be idle. I throw everything in the fryer, and begin to set up plates for all the orders. The timers start to go off. Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep! Fries done. Mozzarella sticks done. Wings done. And finally, the tenders/chicken sliders done. I pull the chicken out of the grease. All eight of them are black. Not just on the edges. Lumps of coal black. You should also know that chicken sliders are not something that we prep. They are cut and cooked to order. Every time I get an order, I walk to the grill station, pull out one or two raw chicken breasts, cut them in quarters, bread them, drop them in the grease, pull off my gloves, put on new gloves, clean my knife, walk back to the grill station, pull out four or eight dinner rolls, cut them, toast them,put them on a plate with pickles in the center, honey mustard on the bottom of the buns, turn around and look at the chicken in the fryer, see if the chicken has stopped making the grease bubbly (which means they're close to done), and continue getting plates ready for the Coop Samplers.

I got so wrapped up in plating that I forgot to keep an eye on the chicken sliders. That's why they were burnt. An approximate timer works only if you are either experienced enough to remember to check on them (and I'm not), or if you are not busy and have time to stare at them while they cook (and I didn't). Hockey pucks. A waste of two chicken breasts. Have to repeat the entire process. By this time, the timers for all those Coop Samplers are going off. They say to me, "you're not fast enough. And if you don't stop what you're doing and pull me out of the grease, I'm gonna look like the chicken sliders." People in the restaurant industry call this "the weeds." You have lots of stuff to do, and not enough time or hands to do it.

And here is why I absolutely love my job...I made it through the weeds. Nothing was sent back. I fed people. They liked it. I was pushed out of my comfort zone, and made it through to the other side. And I cannot believe that I am getting paid to feed people. There is something soul satisfying about getting paid to do something you feel is...important (everyone must eat), slightly narcissistic ("I made that!"), and honest (it's done, or it's not; it's raw, or cooked; ticket times are good, or you're behind). I have never, ever left work feeling so complete and happy. I have found what I am supposed to be doing. And it feels really, REALLY good. All this lovely stuff being said....Let's have a little conversation about things you REALLY shouldn't do when you eat in a restaurant....

1- order the sampler. You know what I'm talking about. The smorgasborg of unhealthy goodness on the appetizer menu that you feel would be a good sprinkling of what your restaurant of choice has to offer. Here's why....
a- it's usually not good for you
b- it's a pain in the butt as far as timing is concerned, and I'm pretty confident in saying that every cook, EVERYWHERE hates seeing tickets for these. Especially when they come in back to back to back.
c- Never a good idea to piss off the person making your food. Just not. They control a lot of your dining-out experience.
d- You WILL get stereotyped by your server, who will then not give you the attention you rightly deserve, because you have ordered "the sampler." And only certain people order that. And they usually don't tip well. And your server will judge you in this category and respond to you in kind. I type the truth.

2-A lesson on special orders.....it's fine to want your steak medium, with a salad instead of potatoes, and to have the salad as an appetizer. It is not fine to want your steak medium, with your salad as an appetizer and add bacon and egg with an extra side of ranch and egg, light seasoning on the steak, add sauted onions and peppers on the side, please grill the veggies instead of nuking them, and a side of au jus please. And then, after your server has put your order in, change it to a well done steak, no ranch and sub balsamic, no veggies and sub fried green beans, and please add some blue cheese to the steak. And then complain that your order is taking so long. This is not ok. Doing things like this will win you a seat at the nerdy table. Cooks hate it. Servers hate it (because they have to go tell the cooks). It slows down service. Any more than two special requests will get you a reputation. And that's not good. Refer to lesson one.

3- Don't be the angry customer. There is a correct way to complain in a restaurant.
a-ask for the manager. Your server will explain the situation to them before you speak to them.
b-don't be nasty. don't expect anything for free. don't say anything about anything for free, or about money. The manager wants your business, and will handle the situation as they see fit.

3- Make reservations, for the love of God. If you know a group will show up, call a head of time. Restaurants need reservations to survive. reservations dictate staffing. Good staffing means a great experience for you and your guests. Do not show up with any more than six people during busy hours (noon-two or five-eight) and expect stellar service. You can crash a kitchen if you do so. Especially if those in your party do not adhere to the standards listed above. But most importantly.....

4- Tip well. Look around you. Is your food late because it's noon on Friday, and everyone in a real office wants to eat out to celebrate the end of the week? Or is your food late because the kitchen got it wrong? PLEASE remember that your experience is closely tied to your attitude towards your server. They can make or brake it. If a manager speaks with you, the server made them aware of the situation.

5- control your kids. This, I know, will get a response. Fact of the matter is, a server, bartender, or cook, sees kids and fears the worst. Know what you want for them to eat when the server comes for the order. Don't ask the child what they want to eat when the server shows up. Don't let the kid play with food. Servers and managers see extranious food on the floor and judge the parents as people lacking control. And for the love of all that is good and holy....don't order drink after drink with your kids in tow. Restaurant employees will say things like this..."I can't wait till I have kids so I can take them out to a bar while I drink and then drive them home." It's common. Don't be surprised.

And it's after two and I haven't addressed the Samplers the way I wanted. That can happen later. I hope you learned something valuable, or were entertained.

Peace,
Kelly Sue

Thanks for reading the b#@%C-fest. I hope you take some of what I wrote into consideration.
c-

Don't spill the mild sauce.

Welcome to "Adventures in a Professional Kitchen - Part Un." For those of you who are unaware, I'm on day two of my permanence in the Stool Pigeons kitchen. By choice. I love it. Even with today's events. Let's start with.....

1- The girl who was supposed to close this evening showed up "sick." We were in the middle of dinner rush when Dave (co-worker) said, "I guess Pooh Bear is no longer here. I've made her last eight tickets." In walks the manager for the evening, confirming that she is not feeling well. Aforementioned manager then turns to me and asks how long I'm planning on being there this evening. My reply, "I have to open. I cannot close." The night continues, steady but not slammed, and I'm starting to feel a little proud of myself. My ticket times are good. I haven't had anything returned by a customer. Life is good.

2- And then I dump the parmesan cheese into my cooler. I was trying to refill the chives from the line. Soooo, I pulled out the cambro (container) with chives, which apparently was resting on the parmesan cheese cambro. So, down into the bottom of my cooler it went. No big deal. Things could be worse. Note to self that pride is a sin. I am humbled by the fact that I now have to pull out everything from my cooler to clean up the cheese. This cooler contains extras of things I might need in the middle of service. Things like extra celery. Wings. Ranch. Twice baked potatoes. And.....

3-All my containers of wings sauces. I pull out all but three containers with success. How difficult can this be? I have opposable thumbs. Difficult when you take into consideration that this evening I was on the fry station. The greasy fry station. So my be-gloved hands are pretty slippery. Two hands into the cooler for the mild sauce. Two hands out with the....oh wait...that's one hand on the container and one hand on the lid of the mild sauce. Now the mild sauce is on the floor. All FOUR gallons. What's even better about this story is that the door to my cooler was open. Mild sauce on the floor. Mild sauce on the inside of the door. Mild sauce on the back wall. Mild sauce on the floor of the cooler. mild sauce on the two remaining containers of sauce in the cooler. Mild sauce on my pants. Mild sauce on my face. Mild sauce, mild sauce, mild sauce, mild sauce, MILD SAUCE!!!!! And then I had to make more mild sauce because it was no longer in the cambro. It was everywhere but....Of course, this is when orders came in for mild wings. 70 mild wings on the very next ticket.

4- Closer inspection of the situation revealed this was not TOTALLY my fault. The morning crew (thank you, Dee) made only half the sauce they were supposed to make. They also put the sauce in a broken cambro. You see, cambros are like commercial tupper-ware. They have a lid that fits around the lip of the container. If the lip is broken, the lid doesn't have anything to grab onto, and mild sauce ends up on everything.

Important life lessons were realized tonight. Use two hands. Look and think before you act. Close the door behind you. Things can always be worse. A job that makes you happy will ALWAYS involve dirty work. Ask for help, and keep moving forward.

Most importantly.....my mantra from this point forward in life.....

DON'T SPILL THE MILD SAUCE!

Savignon Blanc

There's something about warm weather that turns me away from red wine. I didn't always feel this way. It just happened. Maybe my palette is becoming more refined. Maybe I'm more open to trying new things. Maybe it's just too hot to drink warm liquid. Whatever the case may be, I'm in love with this little grape. Sweet, not sugary. Crisp, not buttery. Apples and grass. at least that's what the critics say I should taste.

Here's the thing about wine for me. It's emotional. I remember taking sips of my grandfather's homemade wine as a child. I remember the big, glass bottles covered up with towels in his office. I remember the cool, green concrete floor of that office and the dicotamy of the wooden desk on one end of the room and the hammers, nails, and saws at the other. I remember the saw dust smell of that room. I believe he made fruity wine. Strawberry and peach wine. Homemade Boones Farm. I can't remember exactly, though. He's been gone for so long. I should ask my mother. But, I destinctly remember walking up to their dining room table and asking my mother what she was drinking. She would hand me her glass. It was a juice glass. No snotty wine glasses. Just a small juice glass of something I wasn't supposed to consume. She would push it towards me. I would take a tenative sip. Alcohol burns especially hard when you are not old enough to drink. And that would satisfy and repulse me.