I feel like I walked into a postcard. I woke up this morning slightly grumpy… new station (Saucier) and new time (8 AM with the expectation for a 7:45 arrival). I started the station last night, but I’ll get to that in a bit. But this morning…I kept hitting my buddy Snooze till 7:30 then officially flopped the blanket off and grudgingly walked out with my uniform still blinking obnoxiously to wake myself up. But this didn’t last for long, because I looked up and squealed, yes, squealed. Everyone: there is snow on the Alps. For the last few days there has been a fog covering my normally green view, but this morning that fog opened up and the tops of the mountains were brilliantly white. I stopped me in my tracks and immediately started a smile for my day.
It’s a bit like babies… if they weren’t so darn cute, nobody would put up with their sound or smell effects… Here, If the Alps weren’t so gorgeous I don’t think anyone would put up with the cold. I forgot about my numbing hands or the biting cold on my ears and cheeks. I didn’t even mind walking into work at 7:45 to find out I don’t start the new time till Saturday. I turned around, changed into warmer wear and enjoyed a cup of coffee and of course some rye bread. Today I added few slices of headcheese… not like the flavorless junk of back home… no this was savory, meaty and refreshingly gelatinous…. For those of you reading and making faces… don’t. You can’t until you have tried this glorious combination of flavor and texture. I ate quickly and set out for a walk. I’ve been walk deprived because of all the recent rain, and though the sky was grey and considering another display of gloom I went out anyway.
I was like one of those weird people stopping every few steps to take picture. I don’t even know why I bother taking so many since none of them can show what it really looks like here. I wish I had my dad’s camera… that thing would be able to do more justice than my Target special. But I tried and I will attempt to be better at posting pictures too. The woods were darker today but the spots that allowed for the view… I am truly in awe of this place. So wish I could better describe it. But even more: I so wish you could all see it. I almost want to just set up a lawn chair one day (of course covering in fur, next to a portable heater, and a container of snack worthyness) and sit in a field for a day just to watch the changes.
But onto yesterday. I have been moved to Saucier. The station for meat, fish and sauces: the station I have been terrified to move to. I’m not really a big sauce person. Garlic olive oil / tomato sauce / lemon juice…. Then there is the meat. Meat cutting class has been my only College class resulting in a C. I don’t understand meat. I feel bad for meat when it is given to me, especially fish. The creature gave its life to be hack to unrecognizable bits by yours truly… It never ends well. The cold and bloody meat numbs my hands to the point that I always struggle to grip my knife properly. The mass of tissue is a puzzle I can never seem to unwrap. There are few things as impressive as a butcher. I always stare in amazement when a mass of meat is quickly broken down into what we see at Publix. I am far, far, far, far! from knowing how to do this… And now I am going to be given pieces of meat and a knife and I am terrified of ruining such kitchen value.
My first job at the station was to take one cut of meat and cut steaks for staff meal. The chef sliced here and there trimmed this and that and in a minute was done and left me to finish the other 5. I pulled the meat from its packaging flipped it over and back turning it 360 degrees hoping to find some magical follow-the-dot pattern.. Nada. Tried one spot. Nope. Another… Definitely not. The chef came by, “ Oh, gulash” ( Beef stew). He showed me again. I tried the next one… I eventually got the job done… Not the right way, but in the end there was a pile of steak like pieces. Rough start. Next job: make steak sauce for lunch. My reaction, “Sauce… Now I make sauce? If it all sucks… If nobody likes today’s dinner: It’s all me.” Yay.. loving this pressure, especially since I don’t do sauce on steak. Horseradish and Dijon on a good rare steak makes me happy. Anything else, in my opinion, is unnecessary and covers all flavor of the meat. I felt stupid and clueless where to begin. What does A1 taste like again? Been a while since I had that… I was given a base jus.. wine okay… Mmm. Roasted garlic. Sure. I went downstairs and grabbed two heads. Chef looked at me and reminded me of the servers: they don’t want garlic breathe).Grrrreat. In the end it was Jus, cream, pepper, a touch of the roasted garlic, and some extra beefy bullion liquid. Eh… Not the greatest of starts. I already missed Entremetier.
I was relieved during service that Maya and I were to run the middle course station on our own. No help, just us, and finally a clear and well understood combination of great communication and production structure. Things are so much easier when you can understand the people you work with. Tickets kept coming and we kept sending plated out. Lovely :) But I must say that I have never fully understood the strong dislike between back and front of the house till last night. As soon as the ticket reached us, the waitress/ waiter stood staring as if wondering why the plate wasn’t done already. Maya and I worked as quickly as possible on a station that allowed a max of 8 plates at a time. They stared and tapped their feet and acted as if we were killing them slowly. One especially… oh I mentally shoved my cup of dill garnish down his throat. We were plating a ticket calling for 2 plates. I don’t know the servers name but the ticket was for a male and I assumed it was for him. We finished and place the plates in front as he angrily started saying 3 in German… We didn’t have the ticket so he rolled his eyes, “arg’d” and went over to the chef to protest. Meanwhile one of the dishwashers tried to take our cart of plates away. He doesn’t speak German and I tried to explain that that cart was full of the hot plates and we needed it. In the 30 seconds of my attempted explanation the obnoxious waiter grew so impatient as to start hitting the table and saying the German” 3, 3, 3!). Oh…. Oh… Oh…. God had to do something to keep me calm at that moment, for my wrath…. Oh… Oh…Ohhh…. I was pissed. We got the ticket, I grabbed 3 plates, and Maya and I got the job done… I gave him the three crappiest pieces of fish, the plate was garnish and given to the jerk with a, “Enjoy.” I’m sure he felt my stare as he quietly murmured an English, “Thank you,” and walked away.
There were a few more plates but Maya and I began to clean. I was still a bit fumey but calmed myself with some good scrubbing. One gentleman (I think he is in charge of the front of house crew???) walked up to us and told us, “Good job ladies.” That felt good and I was officially calm again…. But a few minutes later I saw the same gentleman in the office with the chef… Oh.. What if the jerk waiter had complained… maybe… maybe we didn’t do such a good job after all? I felt sick and scrubbed even more. The station was almost done and I walked a pan to the dishwasher, noticing Maya in the office with Chef… ugh!!!! Oh no…. We were in trouble… Chef waved at me to come in. My stomach hit the floor and I officially wanted my mommy. “Maya, Rebekah… You did good job today. Very good job.” I officially wanted to hug chef. Another chef gave us a similar compliment and that night I left with a beer in one hand, ice cream in the other, and my head held high.
My laundry should be ready. No fights with the machine today … then, “hi ho, hi ho..” off to more work I go.
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