I had my third and fourth trails this week.

I was put on the line for the duck confit risotto and the duck breast. Not since middle school had I felt frustrated with my height and frame. I can’t see into the salamander, I can’t reach the cling film without help, my wrists can’t handle the weight of tossing the larger pans full of food, and the cutting board is at an awkward height for me to get a good, consistent angle with my knife without tiring my hand out. I know it’s something I have to work around. I know there are lots of cooks with my build or even smaller and even cooks with more serious disadvantages then just being short and slight. I just hope it doesn’t take too long for me to adjust.

I was using the salamander oven last night. I was scared as shit the day before, watching the chefs stick their hands a centimeter away from a blue flame without being phased. The dishwashing staff is nicer to me and fucking with me less (i.e. pretending not to know any English). But I started to feel that I was becoming annoying because I ask so many questions: What’s that used for? Where do you buy it? How long does it last? Do you prep it everyday? Should I start the sauce now? How do I know when the meat’s done? Do you save this? Where should I put this? Does this look okay?

I think the hardest part for me right now is timing. Say an order comes in for a trout and a duck entree. The duck takes twenty minutes to cook and the trout takes about five or ten minutes. So I have to put the duck on when the ticket firsts comes in, but the trout doesn’t have to go until the entree is fired by the server (this means the server says the table is done with appetizers and to start cooking their entrees). The problem is slow eaters. My duck can be resting for too long and get cold because a table is too busy flapping their gums or making the eff eye at each other. Then I have to correctly time having the sides and the sauce ready, the plate warmed, the duck sliced and everything plated along with whoever is doing the trout so they can both go out at the same time.

I effed up one sauce for the duck and it just so happened it was the last of the sauce in my mise-en-place. I also was ocacasionally having problems getting the risotto to the right consistency (making it creamy without cheese, not overcooking it and not making it soupy). But I think overall I did well for only my fourth time in a professional kitchen. I’m communicating better: Since the kitchen is so small, you have to yell out prepositions so all of the staff knows if you are in their blind spots. Behind. Under. Over. I need to slow down, though. I think I’m overly concerned with getting shit out then with having it perfect. I think it’s the hustle and bustle of the kitchen and the fact that I don’t get to see most of the customers: So I’m producing, but forgetting that someone out there is actually looking forward to eating what I prepare. I sometimes forget to taste my dishes before plating - and that’s the best part of cooking.

I really like the vibe at the restaurant. I don’t have to use formal terms like addressing the chefs as “Chef”. Not only do they not mind, but they welcome my sass mouth. For part of the amuse-bouche you get a little potato croquette, but we call them “balls” in the kitchen. I was waiting so hard to be comfortable enough to bust out a testes joke - though, I’m certain they have already went through all the jokes, many times over, long before I came onto the scene. They don’t yell at me, but I keep expecting Gordon Ramsay to pop out and scream in my ear, “What the bloody hell do you think your fecking doing, sweethaaart?!” For example, I put too much inital stock in the pan for multipe orders of risotto and one of the chef’s just said, “Oh, well. Live and learn.”

My friend Steph says the mark of a good restaurant is how well they do their chicken dish. Well, this restaurant doesn’t have a chicken dish. But I think they are quality because they make everything there: The goat cheese ravioli, foie gras pate and all the desserts, including the ice creams and sorbets (the desserts are especially rare for a restaurant to make on premises - even though a lot of places will lie and tell the customers that they make them). They also don’t use packaged goods. Have you ever been outside the back of a restaurant and seen all the cans and boxes of pre-made spaghetti sauce and canned mushrooms? Yuck. (Okay, this might have sounded like I stalk restaurants, but I occasionally go behind them to fish for usable, empty cardboard boxes. And for future reference, liquor stores are a jackpot for them.)

My legs hurt a lot. Standing for eleven hours without a break (unless you count going to the bathroom) in a hot-as-balls kitchen is not physically pleasant. Especially for someone like me who was spending most of my days on my ass in front of the computer. Despite the sore limbs, I’m learning so much (like that hashish will turn your teeth black) and having a bit of fun. I also get a beer at the end of my shift.

Oh, and by the way, their duck dish is probably the best fowl you will ever have in your life (aside from foie gras). I highly suggest splurging and ordering the duck breast ($27) and the beets with goat cheese ravioli ($12) to start - you won’t regret it.

TTYL!