In the Weeds

In the kitchen, we have a phrase that's used to describe someone who is overwhelmed with orders and can't keep up:  "In the weeds."

Let me tell you something... I just emerged from the weeds and it's NOT fun.

At the restaurant, I alternate between prep and the pantry station, which is in charge of preparing all salads, desserts, cheese & charcuterie platters, cold appetizers (raw bar, shrimp cocktail, etc.), and deep-fried items.  In my opinion, it's a lot of responsibility crammed into one tiny corner of the kitchen.  On the weekends there are usually three people manning this station.  On Sunday nights, it's just me and Daisy, a small Hispanic woman who speaks very little English and has been there since the restaurant opened two years ago (in many ways, my crutch).

Well last night as I'm strolling into work, I'm hit with this joyful news from the head chef: "Daisy isn't here tonight.  You're working pantry on your own."  (Oh so that's what she must have been trying to communicate to me the day before).

Uhhh... my incredulous look says it all.  To which the chef responds, "Don't worry I'll be on the line right next to you... so I can be the first to laugh at you when you screw up!"  So encouraging, that one.

In a panic, I do all I can to prepare in the hour and a half before we open.  I stock up on everything... from the 6 different salad greens, the 8 different kinds of ice cream, the 5 types of oysters, etc. And then I over-stock.  And knowing what a klutz I turn into when I'm frazzled, I stick a few bandaids in my pocket just in case.

Not ten minutes into my shift, I'm pulling a sizzle platter out of the oven and I manage to burn myself.  Blisters form immediately on the tips of my right index finger and thumb.  Great... kind of was relying on those fingers to get me through the night.  But I don't have time to grab a bandaid or soak it in water because orders are already trickling in.  For the next ten minutes or so, every item I grab, from the plates to the deep fryer basket to the refrigerator door handle, sends a small ripple of pain through my right hand but I have no choice but to charge onward.

I continue at a steady pace for the first hour but I'm worried because I'm already scrambling a bit and dinner rush hasn't even begun yet.

And then it hits... starting with an order of 12 oysters.  Bear in mind that my average shucking rate is still only about 30 seconds per oyster (pathetic, I know).  So by the time it's plated (6 or 7 minutes later) complete with the accompanying sauces and lemon wedges, orders have already started to accumulate.

I start with the dishes that require the longest lead-time, like the buttermilk fried chicken.  Then I move onto the salads.  As I'm scrambling to cut an avocado (which has to be cut to order), I slice into my index finger on my left hand.  Kind of needed that finger, too.  Meanwhile the printer is still screeching away with orders.  There are at least 3 orders of chocolate creme brûlée, 6 different salads, 2 orders of tuna tartare, more fried chicken, and a cheese and charcuterie plate on the board.  Not to mention I have 4 burgers waiting for fries, an order of onion rings and potato wedges (which are both breaded to order), and an oyster po' boy to fry.

And for several seconds, all I can do is stare at my bleeding finger.

Eventually I sprint to the sink, clean and bandage it as best I can.  In the time it takes to accomplish this, another oyster order and a cheese order roll in.

It gets to the point where the chef has to step in to help shuck the oysters.  And we even hand some to the dishwashers.  The food runners start forming a line in front of my station, wondering why the food is taking so long.  All the chef has to say is "Monica is in the weeds" and they get it.  But they're also very anxious so they stand there and stare me down until I hand them their plates.

For the most part, I keep up with this pace all night.  I hate it because I feel like the aesthetics are suffering.  Salads don't quite dance as prettily on the plate.  Scoops of ice cream sit like lumps on top of haphazardly scattered cookie crumbs.  And sauces slosh chaotically around the plate.

And then there's the mess.  Clutter piles up at my station.  Things begin to spill.  At one point I drip chimichurri on a bread pudding dessert plate and am forced to redo it.  My jacket (which is really just a glorified apron anyway) is splattered with melted chocolate, creamsicle ice cream, sherry vinaigrette, red beets, and grease.   Somewhere along the way, the chef comes by and picks up a knife off the floor.  "Oh, how'd that get there?" is my meek response.

I'm so thankful when it starts winding down.  The BEST feeling in the world is ripping a big stack of tickets off the board.  Of course cleanup takes longer than usual but I'm just thankful to finally be able to work at my own pace.

When I finally get home, it's after 11PM.  I throw my jacket in a tub and douse it with Biz to soak overnight.  Then I take a quick shower and whip up a nutritious meal of eggs and a much needed glass of wine.  I call Patrick who is awake in Moscow with jet lag.  And then it's off to bed as I am scheduled for 9AM the next day.

oo,

Kimchi Chronicles

Don't you love it when two things that you love join forces to make one super good thing?

Like peanut butter M&M's.  Or reclining sofas.  Or "Brew-n-views."  Or *insert example that does not make me come off as super lazy here*...

Last month I was meandering around the aisles during one of my random H-Mart trips when I spotted a banner promoting this:

Evidently two of my favorites, Korean food and television, have fused together in a new PBS produced show "Kimchi Chronicles."

The show is hosted by Jean-Georges Vongerichten (a three-star Michelin rated French chef), his wife Marja Vongerichten, Hugh Jackman, and Heather Graham.

I already pre-ordered a DVD copy.

It's inspiring to see others excited about Korean food, which is still somewhat of an uncharted cuisine to most Americans, including myself.  Though I was born in South Korea, I grew up in the Midwest, and not surprisingly, I didn't know what kimchi was until high school, and even then I never tasted it until college.  

After living in Korea for a year, I am now a convert.  The dishes are always vibrant and colorful, while the flavors tend to be bold and at times unapologetically spicy.  And more often than not they are extremely healthy.

*Sidenote:  In one of my first classes teaching in Korea I asked my students if they liked chocolate cake and, to my surprise, nobody raised their hand.  Then I asked if anyone liked "dubu," the Korean word for tofu, and every hand shot up.  Talk about culture shock...

One of the best parts about Korean food is the extremity when it comes to temperature.  Soups and stews are served piping hot and kept bubbling inside electric or clay pots throughout the duration of the meal.  Marinated pieces of meat are plucked straight from the sizzling grill to your mouth.  Chilled dishes like naeng myun ("cold noodles") are served inside an icy, vinegary broth filled with shaved ice.

 Koreans tend to use ingredients with prominent (yet surprisingly familiar) flavors like chile peppers, vinegars, garlic, soy sauce, and sesame oil.  And no respectable Korean meal is complete without kimchi - crisp, briny pickled vegetables with a hint of spiciness.

For those sensitive to spicy food, Korean food may at first be an acquired taste.  And for anyone like me who hails from the land-locked plains of the Midwest, the miscellany of seafood can take some getting used to.  Especially when it's served still wiggling around on the plate.

My first experience eating Korean food was Freshman year of college.  I was on a field trip in Chicago with the Korean Student Association, which I had joined in an attempt to broaden my cultural horizons.  At the start of the day, we stopped at a Korean restaurant for lunch.  Bibimbap was the most innocent-sounding dish on the menu - beef with mixed vegetables - so I ordered it expecting something like Chinese stir fry with some broccoli, carrots, maybe some snow peas.  What I received instead was something that looked more like this:

I ate a few bites out of politeness for my classmates, then, like a child, swished it around in the bowl to make it look like I had eaten more and promptly claimed I was full.  When we reached our next destination (the mall), Mikala and I ducked into the convenience store, bought a sandwich and shared it in a corner hoping no one would see us.  I laugh at this scenario because I love bibimbap now and am mystified at the thought of preferring a convenience store sandwich over it.  But the fact is, it's our instinct to cling to the familiar, even if it comes in the form of processed meat wedged between two slices of stale bread.

Eventually I came to my senses and these days I can only lament at the shortage of Korean food around me.

But now I'll have the Kimchi Chronicles.  And Maangchi.  I totally want to make her kimchi pancakes:



Also, if you feel so inclined, you can watch a few clips of the Kimchi Chronicles here.  Or check it out on PBS.  Or just go eat some Korean BBQ.  Win, win, win.

oo,

The Joys of Godparenthood

This past Labor Day weekend was a particularly special one for Patrick and me as we crossed the threshold into godparenthood.

Our beautiful 2 month old niece, Claire, was baptized in Kansas City and we had the honor of becoming her godparents.

Here's Patrick bonding with Claire the day before the ceremony...

Quite the natural.

The ceremony itself was lovely with an abundance of family members in attendance.  Impressively enough, Claire slept angelically throughout the entire thing, even after they poured holy water over her head...

Patrick and I got to light the baptismal candle and make the sign of the cross over Claire's forehead...

And here we are after the baptism with her parents, Adam and Susan, and the priest, Father Scott...

So aside from just sounding cool, what does being a godparent entail?

Traditionally the responsibility of a godparent involves helping to oversee and ensure the religious and spiritual development of the child (or individual) being baptized.  This role was of particular relevance back in the day when Catholics were under intense persecution by the Roman Empire (being stoned to death and whatnot) and thus new converts required someone to vouch for their religious sincerity and to support them as they grew into their new faith.

These days, however, the concept of a godparent is more of a role model who takes a special interest in the child's life.  You know, like the fairy godmother in Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and the lesser known The Blue Bird (note to self: must get myself a wand.)

Or apparently like Lady Gaga who is the godmother of (Sir) Elton John's son Zachary.  Hmm...

oo,

Chicken For Breakfast

The other day while checking up on important things going on in the world wide web, I noticed that "Chick-fil-a" was trending on Yahoo!

Curious, I did a quick search to see why.  Turns out they're offering FREE BREAKFAST all week.  The only catch is that you have to make a reservation in advance.  

Easy enough.  A quick stop here and I found that there were still some reservations left at the nearest location. Since I don't work on Thursdays, I reserved a time between 9:30-10:30AM.  And though I realize it's a little strange to be making reservations to eat fast food, who can complain when it's free?  

You have to choose your item in advance (among 8 or so options), so after careful contemplation I chose the spicy chicken biscuit:

And even though it wasn't free, I also got their hash browns and fruit cup just to balance it out.  I enjoy their fruit cup because it's not just limited to cantaloupe or apple slices like most places tend to offer.

So... chicken for breakfast?  Sure, why not?  

I've always found the concept of "breakfast foods" to be rather arbitrary anyway.  My theory is if you can eat glazed donuts or a huge stack of pancakes and call it breakfast, then what's stopping you from eating something like pizza, spaghetti, or fried chicken before 11am? 

What's interesting is how widely breakfast foods vary from culture to culture.   A traditional Korean breakfast, for example, consists of rice, soup, and of course kimchi.  Other countries may wake up to such items as fish, curry, tamales, beans, sardines, black pudding (aka blood sausage)... even stews made of goat, tripe, or lamb's brain.

Much more interesting than your average bowl of Wheaties, eh?

oo,