Taking The High Road

One of my favorite aphorisms from Fernand Point's Ma Gastronomie is the one that says a cuisinier should "never dirty his apron outside of the kitchen". I've always interpreted this as, 'be cool, don't talk smack, and remember that your reputation precedes you both in the kitchen and outside of it.' There were a few moments over the last week that reminded me of the importance of positive attitude, or better put, professional demeanor. The way we carry ourselves at work- how we deal with the stress, long hours, and other people- reflects upon our character and ultimately dictates that reputation.

We recently hosted a press conference in connection with an upcoming culinary event. It was a breakfast deal, which we do on occasion, but just seldom enough that it usually throws our morning routine into minor disarray. Of the dozen or so chefs attending the event, only one ventured back into the kitchen. As we scurried to replenish croissants and muffins and fresh fruit, it was Thomas Keller who snuck back into the pastry corner to say hello and to thank us for our efforts. That small gesture was not lost on me, nor the star-struck staff who talked about the celebrity sighting for the rest of the day. I've written here before of my respect for Thomas, not only for his cooking but also for his professionalism and seemingly perpetual state of calm coolness. I also admire the thoughtfulness and generosity in his willingness to recognize everyone in the process.

I've heard the phrase 'responsibility of the chef' attached to a few different causes of late, mostly sustainability and whatnot. For me, it's on that humanistic level where responsibility really begins. Everyone that plays a role, from the farmer, to the cook, server, and dishwasher, all deserve their due credit. And then there is a slightly different kind of obligation, one that I've also mentioned before, that once you put yourself out there, you have to be accessible to a certain degree. And maybe that accessibility is more in attitude than actual presence. One of the reasons that I've always maintained a respect for a guy like Emeril, is that despite whatever heights he reached, he never forgot where he came from: the kitchen.

 

The second incident I did not witness, but eventually came to moderate. Apparently, some words were exchanged, ultimately, over a silpat. But it could have been anything. Minor, but significant enough; no doubt similar altercations play themselves out in kitchens everywhere, everyday.  It's that moment when the stress, the rush, and heightened energy give way to an inevitable lack of calm.

Given the slightly militaristic atmosphere of top restaurants, that there are frayed nerves and occasional verbal abuse probably comes as no great shock. Of course there are the tired, cliched conflicts between front and back of house, but also the discipline handed down the chain of command in the kitchen hierarchy, from the chef all the way to the lowliest commis. I didn't come up through the ranks of a particularly rough environment. Those who have often wear that experience like a badge, or sometimes, like a barely healed scar. With time and distance, the stories of temper tantrums become the thing of legend, and can even be entertaining, though I'm sure that at the time, the teller of said story was not laughing. For some chefs, I think that fierce style is often inherited by those that endured it, for others, they may have felt enough humiliation to know that they would never care to inflict it on a new generation of cooks and waiters.

For sure, there aren't as many tyrannical kitchen bosses around these days. I'm all for keeping the rules, the standards, and intensity, but without the barking to back it up. Over the years, the futility of such a display becomes all the more evident to me. If anything, I simply find it a huge waste of energy, impeding the economy I strive for. Not to mention that at the end of the day, fear, humiliation, and guilt are not really the best motivational tools. It sounds very 'new age' to consider this, but happy cooks just might make better tasting food.

I've also come to realize that such aggressive reactions tend to arise out of frustration, when there is a complete lack of control- an incident in the dining room, a burnt tray of tuiles, a broken stack of plates. If the damage is already done, what good does anger and yelling really do? Does it work toward solving the problem or effectively prevent it from happening again? Probably not.

Without doubt, there are natural human impulses that take over in stressful situations, an extension of 'fight or flight'. As I continue to foster a sense of calm intensity in our own station, I often think of an old spoken-word bit from Henry Rollins. His story describes a scenario that sent him over the edge into an infantile rage. His behavior was confronted by a stranger, who simply said, "Do you realize what you are? You're a decorator." And that's truly what most inconsequential ranting and raving is: artifice and ornament, often unattractive and in the end, counterproductive. And far from earning respect, it often harbors resentment.

 

I've always been fairly mellow. Intense, sure. I'm quite fond of the facetious quip, "I have plenty of friends outside of work, I don't need to make new ones at work." And believe me, I've had my ugly moments. Indeed, at one point in my past, a contingent of servers dubbed me the Cake Nazi. I've yelled and screamed and stamped my feet. And more recently than I like to admit.

Mistakes do happen. Whether or not there are valid reasons behind them, in our milieu, they are still unacceptable. And those errors or lapses in judgment can really piss you off. In addition to the hundreds of 'pleases' and 'thank yous' I utter everyday, I try to handle the worst situations with a stoic acceptance, that in five seconds, let alone at the end of service, it's not going to matter. While the incident that sparked it will quickly be forgotten, the volley of foul language will be remembered. At best, I spin it into sarcasm or humor; at worst, I try a constructive form of 'tough love'. And though I may see a dozen things everyday that set me on edge, real change comes, not by bitching about it, but by more thoughtful means. I also find that if I don't whip myself into a frenzy during the course of the day, I tend to sleep better at night.

 

My evolving attitude toward the job also spills into 'civilian' life. Sure, the pace of restaurant work and the hectic nature of living in this town certainly breeds a distinct strain of impatience. I still get annoyed with crowded subway trains, and clogged sidewalks full of people who are far too slow and have no idea where they are going in the first place (The reference to murmuring "Behind you!" in the grocery store on this great blog was something I instantly identified with!). But the stress I voluntarily sign up for, the rush that makes up most of my waking moments, has taught me not to sweat the small stuff. And as our short-attention-span society becomes ever more obsessed with instant gratification, I've learned to appreciate the random quiet moments.

I don't mean this in some sort of conceited way, but I find the problems and frustrations of the straight person's 9-to-5 world amusing. I can't imagine ever complaining about something so trivial as the weather. I can't remember the last time I was ever actually bored. I have no concept of what it's like to be a 'clockwatcher'. And when someone says they're too 'busy' to do this or that, I just smile and nod sympathetically, though I may be howling with maniacal laughter on the inside.

And I certainly don't equate food preparation with far more dangerous occupations, where a good day is one that you're still alive to appreciate. But when you're under the gun for twelve hours at a stretch, when you consistently push your physical and mental limits, a lot of life's hang-ups become insignificant. There remains much to get upset over- war, poverty, injustice of all kinds- but most everything that falls just short of that is indeed a piece of cake.

 

The final reminder of this whole train of thought came just last night. We had a returning stage who has dropped in a few times over the past year. Due to the fact that my staff is dug in pretty deeply, and that I field at least a dozen requests a week, he knew coming in that there was no chance of securing a permanent position. Yet he mentioned that of all the places he's been, the environment we've created is the most civilized, and in fact embodies all the reasons he entered the field of cooking in the first place.  I was humbled for sure, and rather than suspect an obsequious attempt on his part to gain favor, it simply hit me that maybe we are doing a few things right.

 

I wrote a few weeks back about all of the great reading material hitting the shelves this season. I thought I should include The Big Fat Duck Cookbook, which I'm ever so slowly beginning to pore through, as well as Natura. The most fascinating aspect of the latter is Albert's writing at the end, which offers the tiniest peek inside the head of perhaps the most creative pastry chef around. I could read a whole book of such thoughts. And hopefully you've all got Johnny Iuzzini's Dessert FourPlay on your lists; I was able to get a review copy last summer and I can't wait to see the full package. That project was in the works for a long time, and I'm happy to finally see it realized!

Comments

[chadzilla]

Control... Janet Jackson sang about it, Dr. Bruce Banner wished for it, and Jack White said, "I'm breakin' my teeth off, trying to bite my lip."

[Jeremy]

Michael,
Thanks for that, I work in a union environment,totally insane, but I learned from a chef a long time ago...we burned some chickens, and we asked him what we should do, rather than get mad he said, make some new ones.My work mates and I were astounded, no dumbfounded, the chef didn't yell. We queried his very cool response, in a French accent he said, "my guy's it's just chicken, and why do I want to take a chance to ave an art attack for that?"

[Michael Laiskonis]

Chad,

As a Detroit guy, you know I appreciate the White Stripes reference!

Jeremy,

Your story reminds me of one that I should have included in the post...

Back in my days at Tribute, we did a ton of guest chef events. One in particular included Norman van Aken, Nancy Silverton, and Ming Tsai. Ming's dish was his signature 'chawan mushi', essentially a foie gras creme brulee. As his course was being assembled, someone, and to this day we don't know who, was in charge of dusting the custards with sugar before caramelizing them with a blowtorch. About half way through the 120 plates, someone noticed that instead of sugar, someone had hit every single one with SALT. Luckily it was caught before any plates reached the dining room. Ming, cool as a cucumber, quickly switched gears and reconfigured the dish, without raising his voice or getting stressed out. Within five minutes the custards had been salvaged and served without any of the guests knowing of the drama that just took place.

I already liked Ming, but that move really cemented it for me.

[Tucker]

Excellent post chef. I've worked with quite a few yellers and screamers and that really helped me be who I am today; without them I would probably yell and scream all the time.

[Ted Niceley]

Jeez, I was surely relieved when you mentioned that it was somewhat recently that you had lost your s-it a bit.

Oh my, I've learned a bit in the last few years.
Surprisingly, I am also one of those kinds of chefs (it probably came from my days of record production) who doesn't lose it over a tray of tuiles incinerating (once) or dropping a container of ice cream mix (akin to being in the studio and either hearing the engineer "punch" "record" a vocal line only to have the machine cued up to the wrong place and losing the performance) or even better, I'll never forget, getting ready to "fix" a guitar part and instead of only seeing the record ready light on that one track, the whole 24 tracks were getting ready to be erased!

I said (his name), "You might want to check the 'ready' button."

He saw what was ready to happen and went ashen.
By balling him out I would've have accomplished nothing but freaking him out worse. But, when people don't clean the squeeze bottles I really lose my mind!!!

A couple of more things...

My work starts late because of space considerations; I work thru the night. Last night I was making something and couldn't help thinking of my first chef whom I appenticed under for two years. Coincidentally, a Fernand Point cook himself in his early years (he was 72 when I worked with him). He was a trip, as well as an immensely talented, beautiful nut of a chef. I don't know if you folks ever run into this, but sometimes people, the savory people mainly, will talk or admire us pastry people and our (hopeful) consistency and I found myself thinking of this.
All of a sudden, at 4 A.M. in the morning, all alone in my restaurant, I could hear my chef, "Mssr. Francois", screaming "BECAUSE WE ARE NOT SHOEMAKERS, IF YOU CAME TO MAKE SHOES...." and started laughing my ass off.

Ahhh, those were hard but good days...

If I may, a couple of things to close...

I'm sorry to say that I'm guiltily happy to hear that you are not above a foot stomp or two every once in a while.
And, if you ever want to shatter the illusion of running the cool and calm kitchen I'm sure you do, shake up a stage or two maybe in the process, break out some Fernand Point stuff like my chef did! "Shoes, Ted, you're making shoes!!! There is only one way to make this! MY way!!!"

Thanks for another great post, Michael! :-)

[Michael Laiskonis]

I don't want to embarrass Ted (well, maybe I do), but although I've never tasted a single bite of his food despite knowing him for years, I can say that the music references are pretty cool, considering he has had a hand in producing some very impressive and iconic albums.

[tulip]

I think this attitude can be applied to everyday life even outside of the kitchen. I know I subscribe to the "20" rule. Wait 20 seconds before speaking if irritated, wait 20 minutes if my kid is driving me crazy (in 20 minutes she may have morphed into an angel). I think it's all about balance and putting positivity out there. A deep breath and putting yourself in the other persons shoes can do a lot of good in the world.
Thank you as always for a thought provoking post!

[DL]

When you're working with focused, internally motivated individuals - the kind you find at very top end restaurants - you rarely need to kick and shout and make a scene. Mistakes happen, you get over it, you know they'll do better next time. At the other 99% of the restaurants, you will come across many individuals who fill a necessary slot in the lineup, and they are not terribly motivated, but they are not easily replaced. They show up but they don't push themselves. They take shortcuts and hope nobody notices. They will walk past trash on the floor and they don't pick it up because they didn't drop it. Sometimes you can't tell if they're on the clock or just hanging out. They aren't reaching for the stars, they're just reaching for the paycheck.

These people need to be yelled at. They need to be motivated by fear to make them semi-worthwhile until they are replaced. Because when you relax, they relax too much. If you don't let loose the verbal fireworks, they don't remember what you're telling them. It's a language they understand. You want to be calm, you want to run a cool kitchen, but it won't work unless you have saints working for you.

Wish it weren't the case, but at most restaurants there isn't a line of qualified people waiting to work and you can't turn your restaurant into Le Bernardin (or Per Se, or wherever) with a snap of the fingers. You work with what you have, you chip away at them, some you hammer away at, some you send away. But pleases and thank yous only gets you so far. Nothing focuses a cook or even an entire kitchen like a good chewing out. And you feel good when you do it because you know, in your non-PC heart of hearts, it was the right thing to do.

[Jee S Kim]

Thank you for this post. It's so important for chefs to keep this "good management" mentality. My experience in the kitchen is limited to French cuisines, and very traditional, militaristic ones at that. Yelling becomes almost routine after a while, and it loses the shock effect that it was originally meant to achieve. It's so much more effective to explain things clearly and calmly--then people can really see the difference when things are not going the way they are supposed to, even from a sarcastic comment or a slightly disappointed tone of voice.