Fifteen Minutes Till
Between answering phone calls Marlisa is trying to fix her skirt. She
has only stopped dieting a week ago. Sitting down on the barstool behind the raised desk,
her hips were mightier than the skirts closing-device.
FIFTEEN MINUTES
(behind the scenes of a first class restaurant)
It is five-forty-five. All stations are ready for
business. The door shall be opened at six. Just another regular weekend night. In the
kitchen the Chef de cuisine glances at the sauces and it is the Hollandaise(1) which catches his eyes. Here at the Old Coast House we use
Sauce Hollandaise by itself and as a base for two other sauces, the Choron(2) and the Béarnaise(3). The chef
empties the stainless steel insert with the curled Hollandaise into the floor drain, the
one with the grease trap. He pours a bucket of hot water after it and tells Allen, the
saucier responsible for the Hollandaise and all other sauces, to hurry up and whip another
batch together.
A tired looking waiter hangs out next to the
prominently displayed eighty-six-board. This large, green old fashioned chalkboard is used
to communicate no longer available menu items. The yawning waiter studies the word
bouillabaisse before taking a piece of chalk. He uses the white chalk to edit some of the
dark spots on his shirt's cuffs. It works. Some of the worst stains are being hidden
beneath chalk marks. He doesn't care that the white chalk creates a sharp contrast on the
once white, now yellow-gray material. This shirt untouched by bleach and soap for a number
of workdays, looks in dire need of TLC much like the body it covers.
Distinct sounds can be heard. Cling, clang, glass is
tumbling. Ping, bong, bam, glasses falling, and a crash, bang announces the finale of
expensive glassware. The noises origin is the lower main dining
room. Distinct sounds of Austrian crystal falling, breaking, bursting into countless
pieces get the manager's attention. Today, like always he blames his shortage of hair
growth on the job's stress, as he runs his hand over his head where framed by a small
border of thinning hair a high gloss polished plateau reflects the light. Still searching
for hair where there is none he heads into the direction of the accidental glass
fragmentation.
The kitchen's air is filled with layers of delicate
fragrances. Essences from garlic to vinegar hang out near the cold kitchen side. Marsala
wine and mint linger above the sauce-section of the hot line. A whiff of fresh baked bread
rises from the ovens. Over there in the fish section the fish-cook opens a can of
scallops, their fishy smell makes many noses itch.
Past the kitchen next is the employee change area. Here
is a line of employees, waiting to use the bathroom. The cocktail waitress has locked
herself inside. She has love problems. Desensitized to her coworkers' needs she does her
crying behind the locked door. Her timing is bad. Somebody calls the bartender who
persuades his cocktail waitress by giving her two choices: "Tina come out and go to
work or come out and go home." He tries a second time, less gentle, "Tina!
Either way! Get your little buns out here right now!"
She needs the job more than anything. Tina gets of
the pity pot apologizing. Her eyes are red. She is blowing her nose. The cocktail waitress
has everybody's sympathy. "How did she get hooked up with this guy, who is married
and has a handful of girlfriends on the side, in the first place?" Somebody asks.
Nobody answers.
In the front of the house, at the lectern style
antique stand-up desk near the carved entrance door, the hostess is making last minute
changes in the reservation book. The phone does not stop ringing. Marlisa, the hostess, is
taking reservations and erases cancellations. She staples new information onto two of the
waiters' function sheets. These are changes the captains and waiters have to be aware off.
She waves and smiles at the manager as he rushes by on one of his duty calls. Absentminded
he acknowledges her, nodding his head. Between answering phone calls Marlisa is trying to
fix her skirt. She has only stopped dieting a week ago. Sitting down on the barstool
behind the raised desk, her hips were mightier than the skirts closing-device. On the
phone she is polite and friendly. Off the phone Marlisa is cursing the now open partly
ripped stuck zipper. She is cussing at whoever made the same and his mother and finally
the inventor of the impractical, unpredictable, unreliable, un-good, undone, uncooperative
double row of dark plastic teeth. After one more attempt, half unzipped, she gets mad. She
grabs the stapler, and with a click-clack, click-clack she fixes her problem. The phone is
ringing and ringing. Marlisa picks up the phone and with a "This is Marlisa! Sorry to
keep you waiting. How can I help you?" she gets back to her job's routine.
Back in the kitchen, the saucier is whipping the egg
yolk into the warm clarified butter, at a steady pace, not too fast and not too slow.
Allen makes the hollandaise in a stainless steel insert sitting in another larger insert
with hot water. The water bath in the double-boiler provides just the right temperature
needed. Too much heat and the egg will curl. Too little temperature and the butter will
harden. Allan finishes his task. Sweat pearls drop of his face onto his white cook's
jacket. He carries the ready hollandaise over to its spot in the bainmarie(4). The chef announces "One minute to six o'clock ladies and
gentlemen, on your stations."
In the dinning room the grouchy manager urges a
sweating waiter "Hurry up!" It is the one who frantically finishing vacuuming
the floor, attempts to find all the tiny fragments of two dozen shattered crystal glasses.
Done, the waiter drags the vacuum cleaner to the housekeeping closet. The manager's
thumbs-up-signal tells Marlisa that it is time to unlock the front door. This night's fine
dining experience may start now.
The players of the dinner act are ready to enter the
stage. There is no sign of hectic, there is no running, no shouting out front where the
guests are. Such is in stark contrast to the organized chaos, cooks racing against the
clock and yelling to communicate in the-back-of-the-house.
1. Sauce Hollandaise, 1 cup of water with a pinch of salt and pepper
reduced by two-thirds. As it cools off, at just above room-temperature add five raw egg
yolks. Beat the same over very gentle heat. As the yolks thicken, little by little and
beating all the time add 500g of lukewarm melted butter.
(The water can be replaced with half water and half vinegar).
2. Sauce Choron is a Sauce Béarnaise with concentrated tomato puree
added.
3. Sauce Béarnaise is a Hollandaise with chopped tarragon and
chervil added.
4. Bain-marie, steam table
Oshi
Buri
01/03/09
