Notes From the Back of The House

in #nobidbot6 years ago (edited)

Things are Restless, I AM RESTLESS. FUCK, ITS HOT.
Beads of sweat dripping down the sides of my face. As I wipe, I rundown my list.

CHECK PREP; 20 watermelon slices, 20 avocado rings, sauces are full, fresh sliced fish, hotel full fresh greens, new sheet of panko, shit ton of fires, ketchup, fried shallots, clean board, sharp knives, peeler, awesome mise is all set.

Fuck do I have time to shove something down my throat?

I have to take a piss, can't do both or can I? No piss.

"Hey am going off the line" I shout to chaotic dance of the kitchen.

The pirate orchestra chants "FUCK ME, Danny!" "WHAT THE SHIT" "FUCK YOU" "IS YOUR MISE ALL SET?!?!"

Me: "GO SUCK A FUCK! oh shit, not you Chef... Hell mutha fuck yeah, my mise is all set!"

I power walk to the restroom and of course it's being fucking used. Just my luck.

I wait, 2...3...4.. seconds. I AM RESTLESS... God damn waiters... Useless sons of bitches, don't they ever got work to do... Who the fuck is in there? I don't have time for this shit... Fuck It! I will just have to sweat this shit out, GOD DAMN it's almost 6:00.

Time to pop popcorn.
Time to put my Game Face On.
Let's do this...


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“Assume the worst. About everybody. But don't let this poisoned outlook affect your job performance. Let it all roll off your back. Ignore it. Be amused by what you see and suspect. Just because someone you work with is a miserable, treacherous, self-serving, capricious and corrupt asshole shouldn't prevent you from enjoying their company, working with them or finding them entertaining.” -Anthony Bourdain


"What the fuck, that was fast!" I hear in the background.

"God Damn, someone was in there" I say as I check my station and grab the popcorn.

"Oh shit! I almost forgot, I need to go too. I tried but it was busy during Staff" Nate yells.

"I'm gonna have to forget too, fuck it" As I grab large pot.

I check and double check, as I move the large pot back and forth, making sure to get even heat and swirl around the popcorn, garlic oil can burn fast. I wonder what's the number of covers tonight? I look at the board 100. That ain't shit, maybe I can even sneak off and take that piss, no it's time to forget.

Maybe I should go by meat station, so I can sweat it out...


I AM RESTLESS, in a lot of ways I have always been restless. I was born 7 weeks early. I came out pre baked, then had to put me in the oven for a lil bit larger. I stood in the incubator for a minute. I was always sick, when I was young, always had a high tolerance for discomfort and pain. I remember when I was about 10 years old, and my sister was complaining about a headache. I remember thinking I don't remember anytime in my young life, where I wasn't in discomfort, when I wasn't sick, or having to recover from a surgery. I was a perfect 10 for 10, each year having at least one surgery. I didn't know anything different.

I was also allergic to dairy, my stomach wasn't fully developed. I couldn't break down the milk enzyme, so I had to learn to not let the outside world affect me. At every birthday party I ever when to, as all the excitement would rise and swirl around when the cake and ice cream was brought out, I was always on the fringe, never apart of the in. It was strange because everyone would say oh poor thing, is it hard not to be able eat cake and ice cream when everyone else is? I always thought to myself, how could I miss something I never had? Was I curious? Not anymore. It's not even a thought in my head, actually I had this strange sense of pride, because I was not like the others. I was the only one in the whole party, that wasn't eating cake and ice cream. I would sneak off and eat my bag of gummy bears, it was mines and no one else. I didn't need anyone else, or be like anyone else.

My love for chaos, pain, the weird and the dark side of human nature expands the levels of my comfort zone. I was made for this life of exile, for life in the back house. Most of us are already living near the fringes of acceptable conduct. So doing all the work, and get shitted on, is the least of our problems.


"FUCK, are we sure we have 100 covers today?" I say as I straighten things out on my station.

"Yup, thats what's on the board" Josh, my favorite of Sous tells me. Skills can be taught. But character you either have or you don't have. He talks the least shit and does the most. Not to mention he also a fucking badass. I seen him do my prep and fire off all his order during a friday rush, legit.

"Hey, am gonna prep for the weekend, yell at me if you need me" I tell Josh.

"Do what you got to do" He says, without looking up. Dancing around his station; slicing fish, cooking 3 sauces, 2 meats and boiling water for pasta.

I grab my knife bag, a clean board, and bowl full of granny smith apples. I set up a station in the back prep room, its a ghost town.

The prep cooks have gone home, and now am in my element, all alone.

Compressed apples for the new salad; Star Anise simple syrup, razor thin slice apple wedges, and double compressed bag of a single layer of the apple wedges.

Simple, Bomb, but knife work and packing of bags is time consuming.

I don't know what it is, I like being all alone, doing my own thing.

My minds starts to wander as my body goes in automatic mode. WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING? Fuck Chef is such an asshole, and I don't get paid shit. Should I stayed at doing security for commercials, naw fuck that, that shit was too boring. I WANT TO WRITE, its the only thing else that comes close to feeling whole. But that is the only thing I know, that is fucking worst then cooking. Its hard as fuck, zero pay and no one really gives a shit what you got to say anways. I wish I could do both I think. But most days cooking takes all of you, when it doesn't you go out and get shit faced.

I wonder if we're going out tonight, wait is it my fridays? I look at the schedule, nope I got one more day before my day off. Fuck, this whole month! I got scattered days off. I could use two days in a row off. One day is not enough, you get mush brain, fucking every day melts into the next day. I don't actually know the day of the week it is. But it's ok, I got a blunt in my knife bag.

That's when Dalton creeps into the prep room. What the fuck does he have a weed sense? His the only one in the kitchen thats a bigger stoner then me.

"Wad up D?!" I say, as I nod up to greet him.

"Dan the mutha fucking Man" he says with a smirk ,"It's fucking slow as fuck, I wanted to see what your up too" he looks at me place the wedges carefully in my bags, and picks up a wedge and eats it "Not bad".

"Yeah it's for the Josh's New Salad, it's actually pretty fuckin good. When I get an order I'll make sure there is extra"

"Fuck, how fast you go thru this bullshit?"

"At least 7 bags a night"

"and you got to make sure its lined up perfect in the bags?" Leans over to check my work.

"Yeah or it doesn't compress right"

"Fuck that shit" he says with sound of the trickster "Sucks to be you, but I can't wait until services is over. I just picked up some fire"

"I got a blunt waiting in my bag, but fuck last night, that shit got me so fucking tired. I was all sleepy in the morning. Had to pound two red bulls just to feel normal and ready for today"

"HAHAHA, yea that shit make you sleepy, I got a different strain this time. Am actually pretty stone right now"

"Sweet"

"Actually let me see the vacuum seal" he pushes me out of the way, bringing out weed from his pocket, "I want to see if we can seal weed with this thing"

"I don't know man, I think it will just smash the herb"

"Not if I do it manually and stop it at the right time" He says with seriousness of my philosophy professor in college.

We both mess with some bag to make the small enough for the sack of weed. He beats me to the punch. Has a bag small enough to give it a try.

"What if Chef comes in right now?" I tell him with a grin.

"Fuck Chef! He knows I smoke. What is he gonna do, send me home? He needs me more, than I need to be here. Actually it would be nice if he did send me home. I only had one day off a week for more then a month now" He says with a melon collie only a overworked line cook can.

"FUCK, yea last month I did that, and now I got scattered 2 days, its sucks" I say with my shared infinite sadness.

"YEAH! and he fucks with our hours, like last week I didn't get all my over time"

"WHAT THE FUCK, I didn't notice that" I shake my head with a deep sorrow.

"Ok I think this is gonna work" it kind of works, "Fuck it... it's to much work. Well at least I know now"

Josh walks into the back "D, 2 fish and one squid", he looks around and picks up the bag of weed "it actually worked?" He laughs "Always wonder that".

"Yeah but it was a pain in the ass" I say. "Closing tonight?"

"Naw, Thank God" Josh says as D races to the line.

"Fuck yeah, you can smoke with us!" I say with honest excitement.

"Hell yeah, fuck it soon as service is over, roll up a joint. So I can break down stone!"

"No problem, ahead of you. I got that shit rolled and ready to go"

"Fucking Dan, always prepared" he shakes his head "that a boy"

"You know it Chef, always all prepared up" I gin "hey no orders for me?"

"There are a couple, but Kenny has it. Actually I want to see if he can handle the station" He tells me with a tone of concern.

"Yeah he should be able to." I answer with a tone of reflection "I mean he knows all the salads and everything is all prepped out. He should be all good. It's just he gets all nerves when things get busy."

"Well that fucker has to learn sooner or later. If he wants to get hired"

"Fuck it's been sometimes now. Fucking Chef should. It's been about a month" I say with shared feeling of being down and out in the trenches.

"I know! I keep on hyping him up. But Chef keeps saying he needs to see him handle the station" Josh says with empathy.

"Ok then I'll make sure he does all the salads"

"Ok am gonna get back out there, but see if anyone one else needs some prep.."

"Yes Chef" he looks back and has a smirk..


I AM RESTLESS, now all I can think about is breaking down and smoking the blunt. I can't wait to hear some of Josh's stories. He worked at a lot of good kitchens, his really fucking good, and he doesn't act like an asshole. Rare breed for the back of the house.

My Mind drifts off again. WHAT HAVE I BECOME. What am I doing with my life, is this what am suppose to being doing? I like it, but do I love it? I like the people, but I hate Chef/Owner, his literally the worst human being I have ever met. And that's saying a lot I come a long line of assholes on my Mom's side of the family. Dope fiends, criminals, psychopaths and professional liars.

I born and raised in LA, all day every day. LA is no joke, its a fuckin beast. Its a tale of 10 different cities. I grow up on the eastside, where the lights of hollywood don't shine. The clean street of the westside are nowhere to be see, and the hills of the north might as well be worlds away.

Since am quiet, when I first find myself in a new kitchen, mainly because I am focus and want to learn. It's funny how people project whatever their own bias is on to me. Oh Daniel his so nice, Oh Daniel is dumb, Oh Daniel is fucking so chill, Oh Daniel is to straight and narrow. I always get this, 'you smoke?' What the fuck you don't even know. Let me tell you, at my age 27, and you find yourself in the back of the house. You have NOT taking the path most traveled. The back of the house is a band of misfits, last ditch effort to not be a bum, the fucking down and out, people who can't fit into the typical 9 to 5. I got stories of love, pain, suffering, beauty, horror, that at times is too much, of misfortune, and wonder of the mysteries of eternal, infinite visions on the edge of abyss.


I stop typing. Maybe it's times I take a break from drinking and passing out, because I still got to make it thru the day tomorrow. And I can't spend a whole night writing out my life... naw fuck it I got a blunt and cold beer waiting for me... where did I leave off...

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“I'm not going anywhere. I hope. It's been an adventure. We took some casualties over the years. Things got broken. Things got lost. But I wouldn't have missed it for the world.” -Anthony Bourdain


Also please see: The Weight We Carry

There is a recent and important portion of my life that can be told in relation to Anthony Bourdain. Just about 7 years ago I decided to become a cook. A couple of years before that, a girl that I was dating got me hip to No Reservations. I usually hate "reality tv" shows but it was her and I respected her taste. And of course I fucking loved it!

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