There are certain times of the day and brief moments that give me an inner happiness. Sometimes it's these random, fleeting things that matter most, that speak volumes about yourself or other people.
One of my favorite happens early. I only get to see it once or twice a month, when, for whatever reason I just have to be at work by 6am. I get a kick out of being first in the kitchen, and watching the other pre-shift arrivals. These are the cooks that look like they rolled right out of bed and into the train, because, well, that's what you do. These are the cooks that treasure those few minutes of silence, the only time you actually notice the hum of the lowboy coolers, or the one time of day you get to hear the whine of the exhaust hoods as they're turned on. These are the cooks who like to have a first pick of their ingredients and mis en place, everything they need for the day, grabbed in one efficient pass and crammed into a hotel pan to take back to their station. These are the cooks that earn a right to the flat sheet pans, the fresh stack of towels, that favorite whisk or ladle.
Unlike those who manage to make it to work just in time, whose days begin- and sometimes continue perpetually- under the gun, the early cooks appreciate ritual. They make that first pot of kitchen coffee; they take a few precious minutes to sharpen their knives. And they seem to know more: the number of covers for lunch or that the produce company shorted us a case of oranges (again) or that so-and-so called in sick. They may be the most responsible cooks or the most paranoid, or the ones who simply recognize their weaknesses and thus need that extra time to get everything done.
Or perhaps they just live for the job. Despite however late they were kept the night before, or however many beers they had post-shift, this place and time, the kitchen, is where they belong.
Beautiful reflective post at the start of the year. As I see this in the kitchen, I see parallels with other careers. Thanks for sharing. I had a lovely time reading it today. :)
Posted by: Joy | January 01, 2009 at 01:49 PM
That is me for sure, I love to be there before the rest of the guys, get my stuff together, check the place over from the previous night, you summed it up so well, happy new years guys, hope its a successful and creative one.
Posted by: Brian | January 01, 2009 at 03:28 PM
Everyone thinks I'm mad because I'm always the first one in, and I love being the first one in. It's like the calm before the storm.
Posted by: Y | January 01, 2009 at 05:10 PM
I agree with you. It is something so pure about being the first one in. They way the kitchen sounds.I love it.
Posted by: Jasperchefs | January 02, 2009 at 08:24 PM
The smell is different for some reason. I will leave it with the smell of disinfectant, bleach etc. I return in the morning with a different smell.
The sunshine in the morning does something to it I think!
Happy New Year...
Posted by: Vincent Mack | January 02, 2009 at 10:26 PM
you're a mind reader. happy new year, this will be posted in my kitchen.
Posted by: smithers4 | January 02, 2009 at 11:06 PM
Having been a breakfast cook for the beginning of my career, I surely understand the feeling. The first cup of coffee,planning and gathering equipment for the battle ahead! And it's great to see you didn't stop writing!
Happy cooking!
Posted by: Jeremy | January 03, 2009 at 12:02 PM
I prefer the end of the night quiet. I guess I have to since I usually close. It's the cleanest and quietest the kitchen will get. Everything winds down. Everything is put away. The worst never happened and it's all over. You call in the orders, say goodbye to the line cooks leaving. The veal stock simmers gently on the stove. You snag a dessert left over that won't go another day. You jot some notes for the AM guy.
Mornings are terrible. All the bright light. Can't get your brain to function. The phone won't stop ringing. So much work to do. The kitchen which seemed so peaceful at the end of the night now feels the slightest bit tense, as if it anticipates the coming chaos. You set up the three compartment sink knowing it will soon be fouled - by oily saute pans, risotto encrusted stock pots, utensils that don't belong there.
Fouled first by those early birds, the ones who have to have everything just so, the ones who can't just roll with it, can't live a little and be off-balance. Hoarding towels and trying to rack up overtime. Don't they have somewhere to be besides work?
Posted by: DL | January 04, 2009 at 03:52 AM
It makes me think of the old days when I was a breakfast cook. It gave me a time of reflection and the ablity to work on an idea for a longer period of time without the interruption. Great article. Happy New Year!!
Posted by: Aaron | January 04, 2009 at 11:46 AM
The only con is that you have to sign for every delivery that comes early, but there is the good side, like chef Michael wrote: the nice flat sheet pans, the fresh stack of towels, that favorite whisk or ladle. In my case I'm the first one to open the fresh uniform bags. Now that's when you know you are early, when you don't have a uniform and have to start working with your jeans on. Thank you chef, happy new year!!
Posted by: Roger Rodriguez | January 06, 2009 at 12:04 PM
I think the first and last moments in the kitchen are equally powerful. When you first walk in, you are filled with ambition and high hopes, knowing that snagging that pair of tongs for the day will make all the difference. You don't walk in to chaos, you walk into order. At the end of the night, you feel accomplished and satisfied (hopefully) -- again, everything is peaceful and soothing.
As much as opening in the morning and closing at night sucks, those two moments combined makes an amazing experience.
Posted by: Daniel | January 11, 2009 at 12:13 AM