6 Things I've Learned as a Line Cook

& Happy Mother's Day to all those who mother!

Hello and happy Mother’s Day! I heard the author Ocean Vuong say something somewhere (descriptive, I know) about how you can be mothered by many people throughout your life. I’m lucky enough to have a biological mother with whom I have a close relationship, but I’ve also been mothered by so many people over the course of my 23 years. Today is for all of them! I’m off to work soon, but for now I’m in bed, under the covers, savoring my last moments of dormancy. Today, I’m sharing 6 observations I’ve made since beginning my life as a line cook—just a handful of the learnings I’ll carry with me when I move on from this job. Some are big, some small, some related to cooking, some to human-ing. I hope you’ll take something away from this post, but if not, it was still a helpful practice for me.

{Mama and me}

---

{Line cook uniform, Sharpie stain and coffee and all}

There is a difference between being a cook and being a chef.

Here is what I believe to be true about the difference between chefs and cooks: chefs are relentless in their perfectionism when it comes to the culinary. They could be on the sixtieth hour of their week, mere minutes before closing and—still—if somebody orders the olive oil cake and the whipped cream has fallen the slightest bit, they will find the strength to re-whip it, all for one perfect cannelle of cream on one perfect slice of cake. Cooks (I am a cook, to be clear) are looser and messier; we care about the food but not to the point of it surpassing our other basic needs. I’m a person who loves to cook and eat and cares a lot about a lot of things, but I wouldn’t call myself a chef, and perhaps never will. At the end of the night, when my bed is calling my name, not much can get in my way. If the whipped cream has fallen and there’s an olive oil cake on the ticket and nobody is watching, I’d like to believe that I’d grab a whisk and get to work, but I’m not sure that I would. A chef or chef-to-be wouldn’t think twice.

Taste the water!

You probably know to salt your water when boiling vegetables or making pasta or something like that, but do you taste your salted water? Try a spoonful, and keep salting until it tastes good, like a broth you could enjoy on its own. Tasty water makes tasty food.

Sometimes what you don’t want to do is what you need to do.

In order to have a successful service as a line cook, your station needs to be fully set up and stocked with everything you need by the time guests arrive. Making that happen isn’t always pretty. On a busy day, you might be running downstairs 5 minutes before service to get extra little gems and lemons and tasting spoons when you really want to be at your station, wrapping your head around what you’re about to do. But the chaos is worth it, because you’re helping your future self. Hear me out: it’s like therapy! Throughout college I would trek to Midtown East every week during rush hour for an hour-long therapy session. Getting there and back was a nightmare. I’d be crammed in a sweaty subway car, eyes red and puffy on the way home. But it was worth it, because I was helping my future self. I know, I know, depression and lettuce are not the same thing. And yet!! Sometimes it’s not about following your bliss, but doing the thing that your future self will thank you for.

Befriend your fatigue.

Stressing about not getting enough sleep will only cause you to get less sleep. When you are on what feels like your millionth hour of work and you’re counting the hours you’ll be able to sleep (read: not enough), quit it! Drink a glass of water. Realize that you’re doing something hard and congratulate yourself. Be gentle gentle gentle. Take a hot shower when you get home to help yourself drift off.

Listen to Samin.

Cooking is not rocket science! Good food is a result of the balance between salt, fat, and acid, as well as the manipulation of heat. Samin Nosrat’s book is a great resource for understanding this concept, and once you get it, you’ll be able to taste your food for what it is and adjust it accordingly—a pinch of salt here, a squeeze of lemon there, a drizzle of olive oil on almost everything.

A great kitchen team has a collective palate.

My chef at Hart’s insists on everyone tasting everyone’s food and offering constructive criticism, and that includes me, the baby line cook with no prior restaurant experience. By doing so, we are developing what she calls a collective palate, or a shared sense of what is delicious and what makes us want to keep eating. There is, for example, a toasted hazelnut condiment we add to salads sometimes. I shan’t tell you exactly what’s in it, but one ingredient is Saba, a luxurious vinegar made from the must of grapes. It’s sweet and rich and tastes like heaven with the roasty toasty hazelnuts. Together, we season the saba hazelnuts, tasting and tasting and tasting, until we, as a kitchen team, have fallen in love with them. You want to reach the point where words are no longer necessary, when you dance a little upon tasting your food. A great restaurant has a menu that reflects the kitchen’s collective palate.

I want to write more, but I have to leave in half an hour and haven’t had a single cup of coffee yet!!

Until next week,

Phoebe