Monday, September 21, 2009

Moderation.

I used to love it.  Getting off work after a busy night, salt still sticking to my forearms, I would head to the bar with my crew.  Once there we quickly put away a shot and a beer, and another, and another.  Then Kevin, the server that had almost 2k in sales (half coming in wine) would show up, start buying rounds, and the night would melt into oblivion.  Sometime around 3:30 I would find myself stumbling out of a dingy cooks apartment, wondering how to get home without killing myself.  The next day we would all wake up in absolute pain, head into work, and sweat it out on the stoves with few laughs between us.  There was a pattern to it, and we rarely strayed from it.  It was our right.  We were cooks. 

The thing is that once you get into the cooks lifestyle: the heat, the stress, the camaraderie, and the eventual reward at the end of it all...it becomes hard to let go of.  It starts to become less about a reward for yourselves at the end of the night and more about your nightly plans.  Everyone's sharpness becomes just a little more dull...but you tell yourself that its ok.  The team is stronger now...closer.  Isn't it?

Eventually, things start to fray.  Your grill guy, who already has a nasty habit of a liter of Pepsi and blunt to the head in the parking lot before work starts making frequent trips to bathroom during service.  His eyes are alert, but his jaw and edgy demeanor tell a different tale.  The food runner that cant remember table numbers was up until 5am with him doing coke, and they're both starting to make your evening very difficult.  Manuel, your fastest sautee cook has started asking for booze mid shift to quell his hangover, and by the end of the night everyone has had a sip.  Two months later you're dumber, slower, and fat.  But fuck it, because you're a real cook, right?

But here's the rub.  There are a lot of cooks out there that are smarter, more talented, and far more driven.  And they didnt stay up until 5am last night doing coke.  They don't drink on their shift.  They are so singularly motivated to be the best, to move up, and move on that with every hangover you get, they're leaving you behind.  Think about the crew at Alinea, or Laundry.  How can there be room for the fog of a big night out when you have a 15 hour day and the standard of perfection weighing on you?

By nature we are indulgent people.  Our jobs center around taking care of others.  We're surrounded by great food, lots of wine and booze, and like minded folks that got into this job because the monotony of a nine to five was never a viable option.  Cooks that think they're just doing whats expected are at best, a cliche.  At their worst, theyre alcoholics, or drugs addicts.  There is such a great deal of discipline in our work.  Why isn't that carrying over into our free time?

It's important to find a balance.  It's important to not take yourself too seriously, and not let the pressures of the job cave you in.  I think it's also important to remember that at the end of the day there is a greater responsibility to your craft.  It's not just about the daily drudgery--there has to be a bigger goal.  Life isn't just decaying slowly. 

"All things in moderation, including moderation."
notes:

  • there was talk this week of mongoose on all fours, wearing a leash and collar, being held by ponder.  
  • no, there was no writing in blood on my mirror.  but thank you for your concern.
  • oh snap.
  • who knew that pork bones are so hard to come by?
  • congratulations to Ryan Farr and Cessaly on the birth of their new baby boy!
  • im down for composting, but this little green bin the city gave me just isn't cutting it


quotes and conversations.


I'm pouring molasses into a pot.
Me:  Black tar heroin...
Goose:  I smoke that stuff in rehab one time.
Me:  Goose, rehab isn't for smoking black tar heroin!  It's for picking up on vulnerable women!

"Abuelita.  I like Grandmas."
-Camaal

Corey:  Hey dude, if I were single would you bone down with me?
Me:  No.  (long pause)  If I were single would you bone down with me?
Corey:  Hell yeah dude.
Me:  I thought so.  Sorry about that.

Me:  What color is that guys fixie?
Dega:  He doesn't ride a fixie.  Didn't you see how fat he is?

Goose:  Who got the plastic wrap?
Merrell:  Yo mama.
Goose:  My mama didn't use plastic wrap.  That's how I came to be.

"I not that beautiful, I not that handsome.  But I am fucking chingon."
-Camaal.

"I guess for some people it would feel good to hold someone's cock, but for me it would be really, really strange."
-Mongoose.





from top:  soba, moleskins, farms up/hoes down?, figs and walnuts, snails in the spinach, they match, pappardelle, vongole, jellyfish, sloppy joe on bread, ramen stock, family meal showdown, ramen, noodles, a clean kitchen

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Perfect?

Question of the week: Is there such a thing as a "perfect" dish? Have you eaten one? Have you cooked one? What was it?
libertyhuangIcon_lock@linecook My Uncle Jerry's braised pork belly is my fav dish ever.
Gingerthegirl@linecook I could wax all poetic on a lot of dishes I've had, but I what know is this: the hungrier I am, the more "perfect" a dish tastes.
shepdave@linecook no such thing as a "perfect" dish. 4 me every dish is an evolution 2wards the best possible dish. that said:sushi@tsukiji =perfect
JessPav@linecook There's no such thing as a perfect dish. Just like there's no such thing as a perfect poem. It can always be improved on.
RFaucette@linecook yes I think you can make a "perfect" dish. It may only be perfect to you though. I don't think it can be perfect for everyone.
rupski23@linecook I think perfect meals can be acheived more often than we think. Often, it's a question of being perfect for that moment
sfmongoose@linecook yaaaaa........... my calamari dishes hahaha
Pav1ov@linecook I got brain lock thinking of an answer! Ass kickin question. Simply put, the answers are all no. But it's something we are all ...hollowspring@linecook The best is wild strawberries just picked from the plant.
MatthewSievert@linecook I feel good when I execute good food for others. Obtaining perfection or eating perfection can be a curse and a goal.
CNrecords@linecook the perfect dish after surfing is either; a) smoked fish sandwich w/ tomato and cold drink or b) burger and a cold drink.
HeatherHAL@linecook I think perfection lies in the simple things, like a roasted chicken. I'm getting there!
dianasaurusrex@linecook I think a great BLT w/avocado can be the perfect food. I had a sous vide lobster once @ The French Laundry that was perfection!
tablehopper perfect dishes: the watermelon pickle/pork belly number at fatty crab, and the cha ca la vong version at betelnut haunts me.

I've only experienced it a handful of times in my life--about the same amount of times that i've been in love, gotten into fistfights, or felt rock bottom misery. The times when it's shown itself were quiet, almost terrifying. In the heat of service, going a million miles an hour, you stand up from being crouched over your plating. Looking down, you're not sure whats going on right away. You turn the plate to the right, then to the left. Then it dawns on you: the plating composition is perfect. Every element is resting perfectly. This becomes your model for the rest of the night. At the end of service you cook the dish for yourself, and call over all of the other cooks. There are mutters of "fuckin nice plates dude" and "you frills motherfucker, look at this thing." As you all dig in, everyone goes silent. Your grill guy breaks the silence.
"That's a bad ass dish. Everything works. It's just...."
"Perfect."
It's the kind of dish that you never get bored of cooking, or eating. After a few weeks of running it, you decide to take it off the menu--if only to give your guests something else...and then they start demanding that you bring it back. In an attempt to re-capture the magic of that plate, you push and stress and obsess. Mostly all you end up creating are poor amalgams of the original...until, if you're lucky (or insanely talented) you find your way back to something truly beautiful.

It's something that ive wondered about for a while. How does one attain perfection? For the longest time I was convinced that I wanted a 4 star restaurant. A place to make an attempt at being perfect every night. But lately i've felt like perfection has more to do with the people cooking and eating, and less to do with the people talking about it. Cant perfection be found in a taco, or a bowl of pasta? Isn't a fresh sand dab, or a warm pizza fresh out of the oven perfect in its own right? Have you had Tom McNaughton's cappelletti with crescenza, corn, and truffles? It's perfect. Have you had Daniel Patterson's "Earth and Sea" dish? Perfect. Have you had Oysters and Pearls at Luandry? Yes...its perfect. Shit, even Ryan Farr's zilladog flirts with perfection. Im inclined to think that perfection has less to do with composure and ingredient, and more to do with focus, commitment, and love.

Ruhlman wrote extensively about perfection in The Soul of a Chef. There's that quote from Thomas Keller about attaining it...how when you reach it, it becomes something else. Most chefs will tell you that it doesn't exist. Im inclined to disagree. You see, what really matters is that a dish is perfect to you. Even if you're the salad guy at The Olive Garden. If you can find beauty...harmony...and peace on the plate, then what others say doesnt mean shit. For years ive told my cooks that I didnt care if they were perfect--I only wanted them to try to be perfect. Now I can see just how much I meant that. At the end of the day, what's really important in your kitchen? Are you cooking for critics? Are you worried about yelpers? Or are you doing it from within? Are you doing it out of love? Are you doing it because you cant see doing anything else?


notes:
  • buzz aldrin and buzz lightyear. not the same.
  • maritess loves it when I wear v-neck t-shirts
  • broccoli di cicco and a soft boiled egg = the perfect mid shift snack
  • go buy the morning benders ep. right now.
  • podcasts are back next week!
  • only eating vegetables for dinner doesn't seem so crazy anymore
  • i get the feeling im going to have a lot of news for you guys in the following months
  • more thunder and lightning please. just not striking nick and janessa's house.
  • the twitter bbq was great...met new folks, saw old friends, drank a wide variety of booze, and passed around an enormous bottle of sparkling wine. thanks to everyone that came out--it was a fun day. Again next year? Re-caps are here (boobs4food) and here (lickmyspoon)

quotes and conversations.

"You wanna see my bare minimum? I'll show you my sugar lumps too."
-Corey. Wants to share.

Dega: New rule. If you call me Dega, you have to say "Degaba."
Me: Why, do you have swampy pants?
(that's a star wars jokes for the uninitiated)

Me: Did you know that if you plant a lobster in the ground you can grow lobster mushrooms?
Eddie: That's gross.
Merrell: That's not true. Is it?

"You should be pounding Gatorade right now. Or something."
-Dega.

"Coyotes saved his life."
-Camaal. Has a hilarious story about Gerardo being raised by coyotes.

Me: Gerardo, come massage Ponder's ass.
Gerardo: Deep tissue?

Me: How about a nice garden salad, or some whole grains?
Corey: I had a green salad for dinner last night. (pause) I lied. I had pizza and melted brie on crostini.

Me: Dega, I see you returned to the look.
Dega: What? What did you say?
Me: I said you're a stupid hipster and I hate your guts.
Dega: I hate you even more!

"Hey dude. I pooped on my pen."
-Corey. He really did poop on his pen.

Me: We should grate it on a sharkskin.
Al: I have one of those at home. I have a whole shark!

"If you wear an Ed Hardy shirt, that's a deal breaker."
-Mongoose. And he's right.




from top: figs, roasting, apples, fruit, snoopy, oakland, 4505 dogs, stay up late, dega, eddie, serg, kate, luis, anne, matt, ryan, joey, brandon, corey, the scene, cupcakes, porchetta, lengua, @coreynead

Monday, August 31, 2009

New York

I'm standing outside of a bar on my last night in New York, smoking a cigarette, while Ginger sways from the effects of many shots of rye and beers. It's hot as hell, even at 3am. Manhattan is quiet. Behind all of screech of sparking subway tracks underfoot, and the honks of a thousand cabs, it's peaceful. We talk, and reminisce. I feel like i'm home.

My week leading up to the trip to New York was an amazing one. I gathered all of the places here in San Francisco that I hadn't had the time to see, and built an itinerary. There were trips to Kitchenette, Muir Woods, MOMA to see Avedon, Il Cane Rosso, Thursday Farmers Market, Rickhouse, Coffee Bar, Foreign Cinema for brunch, Yerba Buena Gardens with my nephews, and Heaven's Dog. Ginger was out for her brothers wedding (which was fun and beautiful) and in a way we shared a dual vacation. If I had only had that one week to relax, it would've been enough...but New York was looming on the horizon. And in a way it was making me nervous as hell.

Flying into New York on a red-eye, I couldn't sleep at all. I typed this out on my phone:
Strange melancholy feeling going to ny. Mostly broke. It's been 6 years. We have a nice plane, and a trendy hotel to stay in. San Francisco is rooted deeply in me, and that's hard to let go of.
We're on a redeye. I can't sleep.
Usually on a trip like this I feel like I have a lot of thinking to do, and this trip is no exception.
Starting yesterday I had that restless out of the kitchen feeling that I get. Imagine anxiety coupled with deep paranoia and guilt. It's fucked and it sounds psychotic. Maybe it is. I should feel lucky. There are friends to see. I've been given countless lists of places to go to from people I like and respect.
Over drinks today a friend tried to talk me into finally going it on my own. I have a family to think about, and that's making me sway both ways. I need to take the next step... I also need security and job stability, which I have at Nopa.
Being here makes me feel older, but still somehow connected back to my youth. I've been here so many times.


It all sounds so over-dramatic, and maybe it was. But stepping off that plane into the 100% humidity, all I could think about was how tight money was, and what a strange and pivotal point in my life I was coming up on. I wasn't even sure that I would be able to enjoy myself. I felt thin from too little sleep and the bright morning sun. For those first few hours in New York, it didn't really feel like vacation.

Our hotel did well to lessen the weight of my stress though. We got hooked up with a nice room in the brand new Standard Hotel, courtesy of Matt Wang. (thanks Matt!) After some rest we met up with Ginger, ate lunch at Barbuto, and walked the highline. Ginger showed us around, and that night we ate at Freemans's, where her boyfriend is the chef. Decompression complete, begin vacation.

In the following days we made our ways to Porchetta, Abraco, Third Rail, Momofuku Ssam, Ippudo, 5 Points, and Pastis, with a lot of pizza and drinks in between. I ran into SF transplant Nate Appleman, and the sous from Perbacco...further proving that the world is very, very small. Running around town felt easy...city blocks became familiar...and the ease of being able to call Ginger and meet up was...amazing. On our last night, romping around the lower east side, I could feel New York getting its claws into me. Or maybe it was just the booze.

Being is New York has always felt good to me. It doesn't scare me, or intimidate me. If anything that town leaves me feeling energetic--like im stuck in a pack of people running at full speed. Keep up or get trampled and left behind. Being out on the street can feels like being in the kitchen. It's beautiful. Despite a nagging feeling the first day that I was "cheating" on San Francisco, I came to appreciate New York for what it is. And through that, I started to miss SF. Waking up on our last day, with a hangover that made me want to drown myself in the fountain at Washington Square Park, I said a quiet goodbye to the city. This was the note I typed on the way home.

We're flying back, and last night was so excessive that I spent all day paying for it. The hot new York sun beat on me all day. I tried to drink coffee and ended up puking in a bar instead.
Ginger sent me a text last night that said her knowing that I wouldn't be in ny when she got back was heart wrenching. I knew exactly what she meant.
There are opportunities in ny. The city is amazing, and I love it deeply. I almost forgot what it was like to live in sf for a week. It would be a place to make a mark. A place to take the next step. It would also mean transplanting my wife to one of the most unforgiving places on earth. It would mean leaving behind friends and family. I just don't know if I can be that selfish.


notes:

  • this saturday is our barbeque in golden gate park. pot luck style, super casual...email us for details. Tweetyparkparty@gmail.com
  • I dunno, I like the SF heat.
  • I've said it before, but lets go again: Flour & Water = one of the best restaurants in SF
  • Ingrid's trip to SF
  • That well done burger? Yeah, it's not gonna be done right away.
  • That was a long blogging break. Time to get back on track.

quotes and conversations.

Rachel: Please wear pants.
Corey: If I ever have a restaurant, it's going to be jacket and tie required. Pants optional.

"Did I ever tell you about my cellmate? He had marbles in his dick."
-Mongoose.

"Did she really say i'm a bad twitterrer?"
-Corey. A bad twitterrer.

"You were in my dream last night, trying to keep me from hooking up with skanky tortas."
-Ponder.

Camaal: Hey rosita. Una joto pan para pollo.
Mongoose: (Blank stare)
Me: A hotel pan. Not a joto pan.
Camaal: I cannot speaking well.

Me: Maritess, you ok?
Maritess: Yeah.
Me: You want Ponder to take off his shirt?
Maritess: Not yet.
Camaal: Woooooowwwww.
Paulie: Ponder's doing a second show?

"Khaki pants are for young guys that think they're gang members."
-Mongoose.

Me, to Camaal: He's a magician, just like you.
Camaal: (Laughs)
Ponder: He'll pull your dick out of your pants.

Me: Name a country that starts with the letter D.
Mongoose: Delaware!
Me: Delaware is a state.
Mongoose: Ooooohhhhh.

Camaal: I needing little yems.
Mongoose: (Blank stare)
Me: Little gems.
Mongoose: I thought he said lil' jimmy's...like he needed a finger condom.

Me: What's a fortnight?
Corey: I dunno. Four or five nights? The night before? A month and a half?
Amy: I like fart night better.

Me: Gerardo, what are you like when you're drunk?
Gerardo: What do I like?
Me: No, what are you like.
Gerardo: Oh! Totally different questions!




from top: ponder and corey, brunch, cooking with joey, kitchenette, ponder and speez, rickhouse, produce, steak, andrew and katies wedding, flying, dont look down, a toilet, ginger and preston, gibraltar, ramen, sky, manhattan, pat, the view