Friends,
good morning from New York, where your good friend Sarah’s Executive Sous Chef
decided it is time for me to get my love life together. As you know, I am staging (working for free)
at a Kitchen in order to re-learn excellence, teaching and coaching in high
pressure situations. My job is to do
whatever my Sous Chefs tell me, and so, it’s high time I did that.
I
stage in a lot of Kitchens as I fly in and out of cities for my other ‘real’
job in medical research, because I love being in the Kitchen. It is where I feel most at home, everywhere
in the world. I do not have a constant
home, I have Kitchens and Hilton Hotels and Delta frequent flier miles, but
those of us who spend a career taking care of doctors and clients worldwide who
have put our love lives and family possibilities intentionally on the back
burner need to find places and means and ways to feel like we have a home,
too. Kitchens are one of the only
constants in my life, and I love them. Cue
my Kitchen staging gig this past summer.
I
set up a stage in one Kitchen, and I was nervous as hell about it, because this
was a big deal place. Three days before
I arrived, I learned that the Chef I actually sorta knew would not be there,
and that I was to report to Executive Sous Chef, who would be running the show
that day. I knew the moment I walked in
that this guy was NOT interested or happy in having to babysit me that day and
that this was not going to be my usual happy fun learning day in the
Kitchen. This day was going to be about
humbling me. I had a sinking feeling,
but when I commit, I commit.
Even
though no one told me I was expected to be there from 1:30PM until 1AM instead
of 5pm and I had to cancel dinner plans that were important, I did it, because
when I commit, I’m all in. Good thing I
did, because this guy is a Chef who can just LOOK at you across the Kitchen,
from way, way far away, and you can FEEL him checking on your work, he is that
intense. He scares the sh*t out of me,
still, in a good way, because he is so intense and so good at what he does. I listened to him for hours, teaching the
technique and the whys of those techniques and the different ways to think
about food and its preparation. The
sheer knowledge blew me away, and I am a bit in awe of this guy, to this day,
because his intensity matches mine, just in completely different fields. I like to think we have mutual respect for
each other, but I am just a lowly little student crossing paths with him once,
and I was on his turf. I took direction
from everyone and anyone he told to give me busywork, and I did whatever they
asked me to do. And I loved it. I felt at home.
I
picked and washed crates of parsley, nettle, thyme, and savory. I washed morel mushrooms and prepped them for
other Chefs. I zested hundreds of lemons
with a handheld microplane, and by the end of the day I no longer had
fingerprints and could not un-bend my hands, because this was not what I did
all day every day. I was used to
learning cardiac surgery and global laws of research and leading teams in the
office and the operating room. I knew I
looked foolish, and I knew I was being put through my paces, yes, to help out
the Kitchen, but also to gently yet FIRMLY show me what it was like to be a
Real Chef in a Big City. It was
fascinating. I was hooked. It was so different than my usual day and so
different from any Kitchen I had been in before.
I
had to learn on the fly. I was told to
say “oui” instead of “yes” because it was a French Kitchen, but I got in
trouble for writing my dates in French style (03JAN2014 instead of
01/03/14). Having lived in Belgium, I
had to explain to Executive Sous Chef, when he forcefully corrected me for the
4th time that I was very sorry, and I was in no way being
disrespectful when I said “yes” instead of “oui” because I lived in Belgium for
almost 3 years, and we do NOT mix languages like this Kitchen does, because it
is considered incredibly disrespectful to do so. I can’t say “oui” and then say “thank you,
you are very kind” instead of “merci beaucoup, vous etre tres gentile.” We do not mix them in a French Belgian
Kitchen, ever, ever, ever. My brain
hurts when I have to mix languages, and we had a cultural difference, but that
was my issue, not this Kitchen’s issue, and I felt bad about taking so long to
adjust. He saw that and cut me more
slack than I deserved. I was grateful.
Mid-day,
Executive Sous Chef came over to me and asked how my stage was going. I told
him I loved the Kitchen a lot. Then I
said the words you should not say to your Executive Sous Chef, ever, ever,
ever. I said, “I love it here, thank
you, but it is very strange for me because no one has cursed and I have not yet
been sexually harassed, so I feel like I am staging in church.”
You
could have heard a pin drop in that Kitchen when I said that, and you could
almost hear, HEAR all the heads swivel, eyes wide, as all the other Chefs
turned to see what would happen next.
He
could have made me leave right then if he hadn’t understood that I was making a
joke as a sign of me being uncomfortable even as I tried so hard to understand
this Kitchen’s different rules. I got
lucky, because he did not ask me to leave, he instead let out a stream of curse
words that was impressive, but not as impressive as the list I immediately
added, telling him he had forgotten X, Y and Z.
My curse words were a bit more creative, since I had years of practice
attending surgery with the curse-iest of doctors. He turned completely red and went back to his
hot line, most likely wondering if I was mentally ill or just stupid. I personally hoped he learned some new words
that day.
I
got lucky again that day in that when I finished my prep I also got to go help
Executive Sous Chef in private dining for a much smaller VIP group of people
dining that night. I got to “follow” him
by helping plate up the most beautiful dishes.
It was so fun to be part of that, to know that something I did the
smallest work on would be part of a very special dinner for someone. It was intense in private dining, and I loved
it, so much, because we had a little fight and we had a little chat, and he
taught me and taught me and taught me, and I soaked all that knowledge up and
knew I was hooked on this Kitchen, this way of learning excellence.
That
day was so long, so hard, but I found someone who could teach me new things,
and I need that and want that in my life, no matter how humbling and hard it
is. At the end of my work day, Executive
Sous Chef made sure I got to try almost every dish, until I finally had to stop
him, saying, “I love it that you’re spoiling me, but I’m full, and I’m a
businesswoman, and this is inventory cost you don’t need to waste on me,
because I’m totally happy and you have been more than kind to me, thank you.”
He
didn’t care. He fed me more, and I was
almost uncomfortable I was so full, but if those Chefs cook, my job is to be
grateful, and that food was incredible.
At one point, I took a bite of something ridiculously delicious, and I
let out an “Ohhhh dear God that is good,” to which he responded by pretending
to vigorously hump the counter, making fun of my verbal appreciation. I rolled my eyes and talked with my mouth
full, looking at him, saying, “It’s amusing to me that every time I open my
mouth and appreciate something your team cooked all you hear is sex.”
Again,
NOT something you should say to your Executive Sous Chef, ever, ever, ever, but
in my Kitchens back home, this would be hilarious in its absurdity, and I was
relieved to see him laugh about it, too, because he could STILL have kicked me
out at any time. But he didn’t. He just rolled his eyes and shot me a look of amused
annoyance and kept working until I finished eating, and then he tried to tell
me the usual “thank you for coming in” speech, but I was having none of
it. I protested, because it was only
11:30. And then, I for some reason got
an even braver sass as I said, “I know there is bourbon in that office, and I
would like some before I go.” I can’t
believe he agreed. For the rest of my
life I will never understand why I said those things or why he agreed to have a
chat about my stage over bourbon, but it was one of the most important
conversations that I really needed to hear, when I least expected it.
And
so, this is when I got The Talk from Executive Sous Chef, in the office, about
my love life.
In
the Kitchen, we do not have time or space in our heads to have long talks, we
get to the point. He asked why I wanted
to be in the Kitchen, and I told him that since Andy was murdered, I threw
myself into my work instead of my love life, and I traveled and stayed so so so
so busy so that I would not feel anything, ever or let anyone be truly close to
me. I told him that the Kitchen, any
Kitchen, is where I finally allowed my shoulders to relax and finally felt at
home after being on 6 continents. He
listened. He got it. There was no need for details about my
half-assed relationships.
He
told me his story, and he told me I needed to get my sh*t together and let
someone in, let someone take care of me, too, because he learned that, and he
was happy, really happy. It was a nice
moment, because it was just raw and real and it didn’t matter that I was from
Minnesota and worked in a different field and was a terrible Chef for the day.
He told me that at some point, you just have to choose it, to risk it, to know
it can all come crashing down yet again, just like it had before. I had heard those words a thousand times from
quite literally a thousand people before, but never did I really listen to
those words until that moment. He was
right, as usual, and while I thought he was just going to teach me about the
Kitchen, he ended up teaching me about life.
I
will never forget that talk or that Chef.
We are not close Friends, and we never hooked up, contrary to the rumor
that has apparently been making the rounds for quite some time, which we both laughed
at, because it is ridiculous. How do you explain to people that we didn’t, we
wouldn’t, there was no need or want to hook up, because the moment was so much
better in that it was about life and the people we love and helping each other
on our own little paths? To this day he
and I are not close Friends by any means, but I will always have that guy’s
back, whether or not he ever needs me to.
When I see him, I hug him, and I say, “Did you propose yet?” to which he
shakes his head no, and I say, “Get your sh*t together, Chef,” as he laughs and
says, “Did you sort out your trainwreck relationship yet?” to which I shake my
head, no, back to him. And we laugh and
go on with our night, each of us catching up with our respective Friends and
people, but I know he’s right, and I know it is time to get my relationships in
order, and so, just as I follow all my Sous Chef’s orders, it’s time to get to
it.
Wish
me luck, Friends, and once again, pass the bourbon.
With
love from New York,
Your
Good Friend Sarah
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