I was very nicely fired by a 5-star restaurant [View all]

[GreatGazoo]

Was looking for a second job this summer and kept seeing a listing for a high end restaurant that was paying $24-$28/hr but they were looking for fulltime. I looked up their website -- stunning facility -- 160 acre organic orchard and vineyard, view of the mountains. All built from scratch. No expense spared.

I sent my resume and noted that I was looking for part time work such as Line Cook (a 5 hour shift), or Prep Cook. An Interview, a second interview then a shift as prep cook. Finally got a look at their menu (they were not open when I was hired so no menu on the website). Squash blossoms and cavatelli, scallops, bavette steak, duck breast. Simple enough but then there were all the sides and sauces. Caramelized fennel, leek soubise, carrot top chimichurri, three different aolis, house made focaccio, on and on.

The goal of the business had expanded in the years before they opened. It was going to be a tasting room then the goal was 5-star restaurant but they never expanded the kitchen size. They couldn't. It is a windowless room hidden in the center of the building. One long counter and 2 station hot line. I clock in. We are not allowed to speak to each other (!) It is full on brigade style -- you answer when spoken to but "no chatter". Ugh. There are 6 of us in a space designed for 2 or 3. "Behind" "behind" "sharp behind" "hot behind" constantly.

They give me easy stuff -- scrubbing organic carrots but you can't run the water because they are "on a well". It's like a camping trip. Scrub hundreds of carrots with a scratch pad in a hotel pan. All the top retained then cut to different sizes for roast carrots versus crudite. The tops go to chimichurri. All the other waste goes to compost except the stuff that goes into subise or stocks.

Then I stem kale. Three different types of organic kale, crates full. I make the chimichurri. Roast the carrots. Mince herbs. No one talks. After 7 hours I'm done. The Exec and Head chefs are doing 12-hours shifts so 7 hours is part time.

Back the next day. Peeling boiled local free range organic eggs from chickens fed a special diet. I ask the Exec to show me her technique. She seems concerned. "Have you never peeled an egg before !?" I have but not for a $50 crudite. I want to make sure each one is perfect; no divots. I don't want to screw up even one egg because the worst thing you can do is destroy product. If you screw up product and we are too close to service then there is no time to get more. Better to go a bit slow. Exec chef shows me her way -- roll the egg with light pressure to crack the shell. Open the top end, where the air spot is, peel under water. She stares at me while I do it. The tricky part is cracking the shell all over without creating any splits in the white of the egg.

More stuff then they give me shallots to brunoise. I cut the root off thinking I am going to peel that tough outer layer first then mince the whole thing willy nilly. NO! Did you just cut the root off?? Do you not know how to brunoise a shallot!! Head chef does one. Cuts it in half length wise. Lays it flat side down under his hand. Head down even with the board because you can't see the little thing with his hand on top of it. Horizontal cuts 2mm apart. Then laterals. His giant fingers somehow nimble enough to move at 2mm intervals across the tiny allium. You cut all of them like that before you make the final crosswise cuts. Keeps the board tidy.

My turn. "You're going to cut yourself!" Says the Exec, violating the "no hypnotism rule". My technique is not perfect but I am not going to cut myself, even with people bumping me to get to the walk in. The grand opening is in 2 hours. A summer thunderstorm blows in and rages. Rainwater pours into the dining room through the chimney of the middle fireplace. More comes under the French doors to patio. Towels. FOH scrambles. They feed us family anyway. They have to.

"Doors in 15" "Yes chef" The first paying customers arrive and are seated. All eyes on the ticket printer. This is it. Years of anticipation. $15 million spent. The sound of tiny pins tattooing an order onto curly white paper begins. Head chef reads the ticket -- is it the subice? the aiolis?

"Chicken fingers and foccacio" for a 4-year old. No adult food on the ticket.

The last line cook arrives and they need space. I clock out and am never scheduled to work again.

The adventure continues.