Frying Pans & Fires
A snippet of my life.
It's about 9:30pm, I've been at work since 5am. It was my turn to do baking for the day so I had to get in before the rest of mise-en-place crew. Mise-en-place is French for 'put in place', it's the preparation time for service. It doesn't matter that I'm the boss now, in my kitchen you all pull your weight, Head Chef included. Also, I'm just not spending enough time with a knife - or rolling pin - in hand anymore, I've been so committed to making sure all my guys are as sharp as their blades I have forgotten how important it is to roll my sleeves up and get some cooking done.
Today is opening day for The Orange Tree, my iteration on classic pub food and the gastropub movement sweeping the US and Europe lately. It's a 7 course tasting menu with accompanying wines myself and suppliers have chosen from across South Africa. Our policy has and always will be to source products from as close as possible, and so South Africa represents Africa's prime wine growing region. I've been going over the menu in some form or other for weeks, calling mom and my sister for tips - sis has always been better, but I've never been anything but grateful for the support and advice.
I'm trembling, can't tell if that cigarette had a positive or negative effect on it. I'll need to sort my shit out soon, arrogance has got in the way of sensibility and the plating is very, very delicate. I got my head gardener, Chris to get into the veggies and pick me some tomato and coriander flowers for the scallops and panna cotta, as well as baby nasturtium leaves to give a bit of lightness to the look of the fillet steak au jus. Why did I choose shit that needs fucking tweezers to plate!
The kitchen has become quiet, a deafening silence only intermittently disturbed by the ominous gonging of copper-based pan collisions as we push to get ready for the biggest night of my life. I go outside for another cigarette, masked by an incomprehensible excuse to the kitchen that I need to see where we're at. My girlfriend is helping out tonight on the floor, I can't afford a manager yet, it took everything to get this goddamn place open. My eye catches the last pillar of the veranda - unpainted, mercilessly condescending. An all night reminder of the need to make this succeed, as I'm in way too deep to fail. And I'm not even finished with the build!
Here she comes.
"We're ready Josh, you've got 120 about to be seated, good luck babe."
I put out the fag, walk into the kitchen, and turn to the staff.