Part 103 That's Entertainment

Choccy chip cookies, knife skills and posh people

Did you know, if you put a Like at the end of this, tomorrow morning, you’ll find a Cadbury’s Flake under your pillow.

Hello to you and welcome back.

Right, if your memory is half decent, you’ll remember that we took on a young lady called Emma, and we were going to train her up to become a chef. Emma had no experience of working in a kitchen, but she liked cooking at home.

And of course, there’s no difference between cooking at home or in a commercial kitchen is there.

Emma was in her mid twenties and originally from the Manchester area, or somewhere like that. Emma was small, not like thirty centimetres small, but smaller than myself, Ben and Jane. Probably around the same size as Tina Terminator.

However, even though Emma was small, you definitely knew that she was there. I mean, she wasn’t actually loud, she just talked a lot, but in an excited tone, like, her mind seemed to be bouncing around. She could be talking about some choccy chip cookies she’d baked at home and then suddenly she’d remember that she’d made a hot chocolate to go with them and she would become even more excited about this than the cookies.

If you think we deserve a coffee for writing this, that’s the button.

It sounds a bit annoying, but it was actually, a little infectious. Although it did cause Ben to glaze over, like he’d been hypnotised.

“Ben Ben, your hairs on fire.”

“Errr, yea yea, cool.”

Fortunately, Ben only had another week left with us, he was just staying to help out, while Emma picked up speed.

And there was something else, Emma was posh. Not like Royal Family posh, but she spoke correctly and didn’t have an accent.

Actually, most of the team were posh, even as far back as the York days, posh people worked with us.

Their Mams had never been cleaners, shop workers or Tupperware sellers. Their Dads had never used a spanner at work, wore a boiler suit or changed a car wheel. Some of them had even been to private schools.

So as far as Donna and I were concerned, that meant they were posh.

A random pic of an average pizza.

Keep your hair on, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with posh people, we just weren’t used to working with so many of them. Well, they worked for us, that was even more weird.

However, when I mentioned to Emma that she was posh, she strongly denied it. And to prove it, she told me a very sad story.

Apparently, many many years ago, when her parents were struggling with finances, for a period of time, her mother had to write a shopping list for the supermarket run, just in case she was tempted to over spend.

Take a minute to wipe your tears dear reader.

Emma learned quickly, and she was incredibly eager, she asked questions constantly.

“Guys, why do you check the food delivery on the morning?”

“Well, to make sure it’s right, sometimes they don’t send stuff and we end up running short. And the buggers still charge us.”

“Oh right, why don’t they get the order correct though?”

It was a very good question, “Dunno really Emma, they just don’t.”

Skater Jane had the answer, “Cos they’re bastards.”

“Guys, why do you have two lifts?”

“They’re called dumb waiters Emma, one is for plated food, the other is for dirty crockery and cutlery coming back to the kitchen.”

“Oh wow, that’s like, so cool.”

In fact, I had forgotten how much civilians didn’t know about the general workings of a kitchen. Usually we employed people with some experience, or they’d been to college, so they knew how to dance around a kitchen.

“Emma, say ‘backs’ when you’re carrying trays and pans and walking behind us.”

“OK, but why?”

“So we know that you’re there, otherwise one of us could turn around and crash into you.”

“Ah, cool.”

“Emma, wash a knife when you’ve used it, don’t leave it in the sink with a load of pots.”

“OK, but why?”

“Because someone could reach into the sink, not see it, then grab the blade. Imagine that Emma, poor Ben could end up with three less fingers, and it would be your fault.”

“Ah, I see, that makes sense. Sorry about the fingers Ben.”

Emma was also quite funny. She could be quite entertaining.

“Emma, put some wet blue roll under your chopping board like Jane.”

“Yea OK, but why?”

Jane demonstrated, “So it doesn’t slip around mate, look,” and Jane gave her chopping board a shuffle.

“Ah yea I see. Oh my god, this is so cool, I’m learning loads.”

And on it went.

Isn’t that a nice place to have a refreshing drink?

“Look Emma, let me show you how to chop properly. The tip of the knife doesn’t leave the board, and the cut comes in a rocking motion. It’ll feel odd at first but you’ll pick it up. And it makes you look like a real chef as well.”

“Yes I see.”

“Close the fridge door Emma, you’re letting the cold out.”

“Turn the tap off Emma, you’re running the hot water.”

“Turn that gas down Emma, your sauces is boiling it’s arse off.”

“Shut the oven door properly Emma, the temperature will drop.”

“Move that pan Emma, the handle will get too hot to hold.”

And within the first couple of hours, Emma did what all new recruits do, she cut her finger with a knife.

“Oh my god, oh my god, I’m bleeding, look guys, I’m bleeding.”

Ben looked, “Errr, yea, yea, clean your area and sanitise, yea.”

Emma grabbed a handful of blue roll, wrapped it around her finger, and stood and looked at the three of us, “Why does nobody care?”

Skater Jane turned to her, “Mate, it’s just a nick, you’ll have many more by the end of the week. Don’t worry about it.”

I took Emma to the first aid box and gave her a plaster, “Stop whining, clean it in the hand sink and put this plaster on.”

And when Emma saw that the plaster was blue, she forgot about her massacred hand, “Oh my god, you have coloured plasters. That’s so cool.”

“Well it’s not cool really Emma, all kitchen plasters are blue.”

“Oh wow, why?”

“It’s so we can see them in food. Listen yea, if your plaster drops off, it could be anywhere, we would have to throw away everything that you had made. But because there’s no blue food, we can find the plaster easily. Do you get what I mean? If it fell into a pan of custard, we could easily spot it. Then we would only need to throw the custard away. And, when you’re wearing a blue plaster, and you’re on the Tube, other chefs will know that you’re a chef as well.”

Emma liked this bit.

“Oh my god, that’s so cool.”

“You’ll learn all this on your food hygiene course anyway.”

“There’s so much to take in, I don’t know how you guys do it.”

“Right, stick a vinyl glove on so you can still work, you’re not getting off that easy.”

We deliberately gave Emma a wide range of tasks, she needed as much practice as possible.

She made toasted pine nut purée, coconut soup, pineapple chutney and wasabi cream. She softened Somerset butter and folded in the sea salt crystals. She toasted seeds for a starter and pickled some spring onions. And using glucose she made savoury barley and rye crisp breads.

But, and this is the important part, she was learning to feel the kitchen, to become part of the mechanism.

“Here Emma, let me show you something. See these spring onions, and the pickle that they’re going into, it’s just a recipe.”

Emma wondered where this was going, “Er yes, I know.”

“But that’s not important, people think recipes are important, but anyone can follow these. Working in the kitchen is about more than that.”

“I don’t understand, surely I need to know how to make all of the elements of every dish?”

“Well you do, but we could grab anyone from the street, stand them in the corner and give them a recipe and some ingredients. They could just prepare dish after dish all day. In fact, a lot of kitchens do just that. But watch.”

I turned to the stove and beckoned her to join me. I took over a few of Ben’s and Jane’s pans.

“Look, this coffee is for a gel, it has to come to a simmer before the agar can be added, but simmer it for too long and some will evaporate, then the amounts will be off.”

“Oh yes, I didn’t think about that.”

“But listen.” I turned to Jane, who had her back to the stove because she was working on the bench, “Jane, how long before your coffee reaches a simmer?”

“About another thirty seconds and it’ll be there mate.”

Emma looked back at the pan of coffee, “She’s right, it’s about to simmer. How does she know?”

“I’ll tell you in a minute. Jane, it’s all yours.”

Jane spun around and, and with a whisk and agar at the ready, she added it to the pan.

“Now watch, Ben is making a baked blue cheese thing for the toasty starter, I had nothing to do wth making it, but I already know that it’s not far off done.”

I opened the oven and gave the tray a wobble, “Another three minutes Ben?”

“Errr, yea yea, there or four, yea.”

Emma was confused, “But how do you all know? Ben didn’t even look at that tray when you asked him.”

“This is the point I’m making Emma. Chefs don’t just prepare and cook food, like I said, we can employ anyone to stand and follow recipes. It’s about knowing what’s happening around you all the time, even if you’re having a conversation about Adele or Lady Gaga. You need to know what’s happening in three different pans at at the same time, and wether your brine is cool enough without looking. Focusing on one dish, boxing it off, then starting another, that’s for robots.”

“But how? That sounds impossible.”

“Jane, tell her.”

“Look mate, you just learn. Even if you’re chatting shit about something yea, always have your mind on what you’re doing. Even as I’m telling you this, I know that my shallots behind me need looking at, I can hear them in the pan, they’ve stopped spitting, the liquid has burned off.”

Emma looked as if someone had just opened a door and shown her Narnia.

“Oh my god, this is amazing. I want to be able to do all of this.”

“Don’t worry, you will. But look, as an example, when you were folding the salt into that butter, you need to have pictures in your mind of everything else. Ben told you that your pine nuts were golden and ready, but you need to be thinking about them instead of him.”

“Yes he did, thanks Ben.”

“Listen to the noises on the stove behind you, learn to distinguish which are your pans. If you have something in the oven, say beetroot, be aware of the smell. When it first goes in you smell nothing, then as it heats and the aromas develop, monitor them, let the aromas be a reminder that the beetroot is still there.”

“This is amazing, I didn’t think of any of this, I was just thinking about following recipes.”

“Most people think like that. Quick, listen to the ice cream machine, it’s labouring, that means that the mix is freezing and thickening, so it’s about ready. That’ll be the coconut sorbet. Ya see, that machine is four metres away, but I know what it’s doing. ”

By the end of the week, Emma was getting it. She was juggling tasks and bouncing between the different zones, flipping a frying pan, down to the oven to check a soufflé and around to the freezer to turn out the marmalade parfait. She was starting to do the kitchen dance.

And Friday was Ben’s last day. We were sad to see Ben go, he’d been with us since we opened the London restaurant, but everyone moves on some day.

We never saw Ben after that day, not sure why. We were still struggling financially, we were still sending out cheques and hoping that companies didn’t cash them for a few days, and we were still working form 9am until midnight. So keeping contact with people was down to number 427 on the list.

Restaurant life!

Anyway, catch us next week and we’ll tell you more things.

Thanks for reading, Andrew and Donna.