Harvest America CUES BLOG

I vividly remember being 10 years old, standing outside a diner window in downtown Buffalo, New York with my mother as I stared in amazement of the short order cook in full display. I only recall snippets of experiences from those early years, but this – I remember. He was poetry in motion. There were no wasted steps and he seemed to know where everything he needed was located without even looking.

The griddle was filled with hamburger patties, natural casing hot dogs, strips of bacon, and an occasional fried egg that struggled to stay out of the way. French fries were browning in deep fat, rolls were being toasted wherever there was space on the griddle, and plates were assembled as quickly as new orders arrived. He was stacking turkey, toast, and bacon for triangle cut BLT’s, folding beautiful cheese omelets, ladling his special meat sauce on grilled hot dogs, salting fries, and filling crocks with today’s soup; moving from order to order with the grace of a Broadway dancer while making sure that everything was in reach of a pivot step. I was totally enthralled.

The restaurant was full, so my mom and I had to wait for a table, but I was fine with that. The more time I had to watch the action – the better. Waitresses were lined up at what I later learned was called “the pass” and the chatter back and forth with the cook magician was limited to “ordering, pick up on table (pick a number)”, or an occasional bark of “pick-up!” from the cook. A manager was helping to keep the action under control and assist with setting up plates and keeping the order slips flowing in the right direction, but for the most part, the cook was a one-man-band.

At ten years old I suddenly shifted my vision of the future from being a fireman or astronaut to stepping into the shoes of this incredible cook. “How cool is that job, mom?” She just rolled her eyes and said something like, “there are lots of other ways to make a living.” You see, being a cook in those days was not at the top of most parents’ vision for their son’s future.

 Anyway, we ordered and received our lunch, but I don’t remember too much about the meal, only the way it came together. From then on whenever there was an opportunity to go downtown, I always asked if we could visit that diner again. It became one of my go-to adventures until becoming a teenager provided too many other distractions.

It would be another six years before visions of being a line cook would enter my personal strategic plan again. I had to work through the realization that astronaut, rockstar, and race car driver were not part of my future.

At sixteen, during the summer between my junior and senior year in high school, I got a chance to work in a different diner as a dishwasher. Millie was the cook – a seasoned veteran of the kitchen whose late husband had been a legitimate chef for a downtown hotel. Millie and I worked breakfast and lunch and when it was very busy (most days) she would call me over to help her through the rush. I started setting up plates with rashers of bacon, fries, or a simple fruit garnish, but by the end of the summer I was flipping pancakes, caramelizing home fries, and even coaxing eggs to cook perfectly in a pan. It was exciting, challenging at first, but most importantly – fun. By the end of that summer, I was working solo during slow times in the restaurant while Millie took care of prep. By the next summer I had built my confidence and developed a bit of swagger including expertise clicking my tongs, and flipping vegetables in sauté pans while they danced briefly in the air before landing back in the right location.

This was the nudge I needed to find my purpose and start a fifty plus year career in the kitchen. It all began with my eyes glued to that diner window watching the unknown short order cook master his domain. Millie was the one who encouraged me to stay the course: “you’re a natural at this. Stick with it, learn all you can, work for great chefs, and you will have plenty of success.” So, I did, and Millie was right.

There is something about cooking on a busy line that inspires all who choose the kitchen path. Even when I finally reached the position of chef, it was the line that represented fun and loads of adrenaline. Line cooks still amaze me. The individual skill required to multitask at that level, to never miss a beat with degrees of doneness, flavor profiles, sauce reductions, timing, and plate presentations is parallel to the work of an engineer with the finesse of an artist. Even more interesting is the synergy that exists between cooks. When it works well the experience is like an orchestra where each cook plays a different instrument, and the expeditor keeps the tempo like a conductor. The line is a thing of beauty, that poetry in motion that I first witnessed at the age of 10.

As age creeps up on chefs they (myself) discover that the line cook’s magic is closely aligned with youth. Chefs may be consummate problem solvers, incredible planners, trainers, teachers, and inspired leaders, but even the best chef knows when to stay out of the way of those line cook magicians. They are masters of their universe and in a league of their own.

To this day, whenever I visit a restaurant as a guest I prefer to have a table with a clear view of the kitchen. I want to experience the magic and marvel once again at the skill that drew me into this career. I owe so much to these highly skilled artisans and have boatloads of respect for who they are and what they do. So, as I enjoy my meal, in my heart it is the dance of the line cook that feeds my soul.

PLAN BETTER – TRAIN HARDER

Harvest America Ventures, LLC

Restaurant Consulting

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