I’ve noticed a pattern. Every time I post something of, shall we say,”questionable” taste, (kicking animals, the smell of poo) I lose a subscriber. So, for the record, my intention is not to glorify the smut and dark side of the kitchen, but to relay what I find to be the bizarre, sometime outrageous and often funny things that go on behind the dining rooms in some of the fanciest restaurants. You might not like it, but it’s all part of my workplace reality. So, as a disclaimer for anyone out there with a weak stomach or easily offended sensibilities…here comes another one.
I hired Jane (I will call her Jane) to fill a part time pastry position I had open in a 3-star NYC restaurant. She was far from ideal, but I’d been searching weeks to find someone and she was the best of the sorry lot. (Despite high enrollment rates at local culinary schools, it is still incredibly difficult to find quality kitchen employees.) I suspected she was going to have a bit of trouble fitting in with the tough clique of cooks when, early on, she almost bragged that her ex-boyfriend had tried to push her out the window (cooks have precious little sympathy for sob stories and even less if they suspect said stories to be exaggerated or self-serving). Even I began to lose patience when she pointed out a tattoo she’d gotten the night before (her 12th she proudly pointed out) “on a whim.” I don’t even care about the ink, she explained, I just like the way it feels. It was only a matter of time before the cooks unleashed their antics on her.
It was on one of my days off, of course, when Jane came in one morning to the pastry station and found that the cake decorating turntable (a sort of lazy susan on top of a pedestal) had been vandalized in her honor. The night before, the cooks had–quite creatively and most likely drunkenly–turned the turntable into a “Wheel of Sodomy,” complete with chocolate feces and raspberry sauce blood.
May 19th, 2009
9:49 pm
I like all the posts–dirty, funny, silly!
There is a cake in Wisconsin that all cake makers can do: “the Poo cake”…usually for a friend or coworker turning a milestone age. It is covered in chocolate “turds” with toilet paper and little plastic flies…..
May 22nd, 2009
8:37 pm
Gack! But given that I post some graphic and embarrassing things myself, I can’t really complain about it elsewhere. Besides, potty humor is funny.
March 1st, 2010
7:17 pm
you gained a subscriber with this one
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I’ve noticed a pattern. Every time I post something of, shall we say,”questionable” taste, (kicking animals, the smell of poo) I lose a subscriber. So, for the record, my intention is not to glorify the smut and dark side of the kitchen, but to relay what I find to be the bizarre, sometime outrageous and often funny things that go on behind the dining rooms in some of the fanciest restaurants. You might not like it, but it’s all part of my workplace reality. So, as a disclaimer for anyone out there with a weak stomach or easily offended sensibilities…here comes another one.
I hired Jane (I will call her Jane) to fill a part time pastry position I had open in a 3-star NYC restaurant. She was far from ideal, but I’d been searching weeks to find someone and she was the best of the sorry lot. (Despite high enrollment rates at local culinary schools, it is still incredibly difficult to find quality kitchen employees.) I suspected she was going to have a bit of trouble fitting in with the tough clique of cooks when, early on, she almost bragged that her ex-boyfriend had tried to push her out the window (cooks have precious little sympathy for sob stories and even less if they suspect said stories to be exaggerated or self-serving). Even I began to lose patience when she pointed out a tattoo she’d gotten the night before (her 12th she proudly pointed out) “on a whim.” I don’t even care about the ink, she explained, I just like the way it feels. It was only a matter of time before the cooks unleashed their antics on her.
It was on one of my days off, of course, when Jane came in one morning to the pastry station and found that the cake decorating turntable (a sort of lazy susan on top of a pedestal) had been vandalized in her honor. The night before, the cooks had–quite creatively and most likely drunkenly–turned the turntable into a “Wheel of Sodomy,” complete with chocolate feces and raspberry sauce blood.