The good folks over at pdxPlate asked me to write a piece on a Family Meal experience. This is what I came up with.
Most independent restaurants offer what is termed “Family Meal” for the employees before or after a night of service. Family Meal is typically created by one or more chefs from varying stations. Some establishments embrace family meal where the dishwashers, servers, owners, cooks, and chefs congregate and share a communal meal. Many take a lot of pride and care in Family Meal and view it as a celebration of their community and craft. Others view it as a pain in the ass. When I was still drinking and using, I found Family Meal a bitch and became resentful towards the front of the house staff. As most addicts, I’m selfish and self-centered. Why should I have to bust my ass trying to get my station set up then have to cook for some pre-madonna waiters that would roll in an hour before service, sit down, have a fine meal, work for 5 hours, bitch about how hard they work, and make 3-4 times as much as my ass pumping out their food?
Often times, Family Meal is prepared by a designated station. What typically happens, however, is whoever isn’t the busiest usually puts it out. In every place I’ve worked the food consists of utilizing whatever is available in-house. Thus, food is rarely ordered specifically for Family Meal. I have heard a few of the finer restaurants in the country actual designated one person to make family, however, this a luxury few establishments have the rersources for.
Years back, I worked lead saute at a popular restaurant in the Pearl District. I showed up one Saturday still awake from the evening before. I was in no condition to work the demanding station due to my drug induced stupor. Naturally, I bribed the pasta cook $20 bucks to switch with me. Setting up the pasta station was relatively easy so my main concern was how I was going to get through the night without much of a stash. I was shaky and nauseous. More of the same seemed to be my only solution.
I was reminded by my cohort that working the pasta station meant I was in charge of family meal. Often seen as a burden having worked under positive chef-mentors such as the TUNA who made statements such as “Hey, Fatty, its fucking FAMILY MEAL, their fucking waiters! I don’t pay you to cater to their lame asses!” Or my personal favorite: I asked her if I could use the braised short ribs for Family Meal, “Short Ribs! Those cost more than your fucking rent! Plus, I’ll be damned if you are going to give my short ribs to those faggot waiters. And I can say that because I’m a lesbian!” However, being a typical addict I used it to my advantage. I quickly called my dealer and told him to meet me up the street at the liquor store. A fellow cook covered for me as I slipped out the back door and told him to say I was getting a special ingredient for family meal if questioned by executive sous chef.
The outing took a little longer than planned but was content with liquor and drugs in hand. I realized I had 10 minutes until Family Meal was to be up. Uninspired, high, and hungry from not eating in 24 hours I was psyched to find some par boiled potatoes with the flesh carved out in the walk in. All I could think to eat was deep fried potato skins with some sort off hot sauce to mend my acidic stomach. Not what the beautiful waitstaff of the Pearl District would enjoy, but fuck’em. Into the deep fryer they went while I whipped up Tabasco, worchestire, butter, garlic and herbs. A chef I worked with that night often reminds me of the form I displayed tossing fried potato skins in a huge bowl with ghetto hot wing sauce with a crazed look in my eye. Needless to say, I got a lot of nasty looks from the ’affected’ waitstaff that choose to eat salad. The grease and spice, however, meet my needs. The following day a waiter showed up with $60 worth of ribeye from Whole Foods, tossed it on my station and said, “Please, don’t ever do THAT again!”
Notes From the Culinary Addict:
Yogism from Greg (one of my teachers): “You have nowhere else to be but in this posture and in this breath.”
Recent 12-step Quote: “My rule was not to touch booze until midnight. That quikly proved stupid”
Kitchen Quotes:
Heather: “I’m a woman filled with warmth and light, however, my flame has been dimmed for some time now.”
Me: “Dude, what do you do with all of your money?” Chris: “The IRS, 2 departments within the Department of Revenue, The Courts, Diversion, Treatment, Probation, Drug Tests, Rent, and of course, Cable.”
Me: “Ron why do you wear a hat?” Ron: “Because I’m Bald.”
Heather: “They used the guacamole instead of the pesto for the pasta.”
Kristin: “My mom wont answer her phone because she is stressed. I bet she is roaming the aisles at TJ Max.”
-When I worked the Michelin 2-star in the UK family was typically made from scraps such as: carrot and parsnip peels, homemade haggis, and the cartilage meat scraped of the rib bones of venison. Nothing was wasted. Nothing.
-Go Buckeyes!
Band Name of Week:Grits and Griades
Search Engine Terms (words that lead someone to this blog for what ever reason): “pulled over for dealer tags”
Present Pandora Selection: The Modern Lovers
