Well haul me over a barrel and call me aunt Sue’s leftovers; I’m tired.
Turns out my roommate’s cat is either in heat or swallowed a jagged metal disc that tore through her intestinal tracts last night. I’m going to work in one hour and if there were any gods out there they would nuke the site from orbit (only way to be safe). It’s not that I hate the job or the place at all, but rather that I am unfond of it and many of the things that occur there. After a lengthy time of working there I finally developed some sort of report with my coworkers; I still waver between disgust and respect for the chef and sous chefs due in large part to the what they’ve recently said to me at that time. Either I am impressed at their ideas and thought behind a dish or I am enraged by their blatant misunderstanding of basic culinary principles or the product they put out.
Brown must be the chef’s favorite color.
Half the damn plate presentations have such a strong brown-heavy earth tone to them all that if placed in the hands of a soldier in desert fatigues they would blend away. Just like magic. A piped out half-moon of whipped potatoes, beige, a trio of asparagus that, while vibrant and green, are destine to be unseen, a duo of carrots that follow the fate of the previously mentioned spears, with a dollop of either “seasonal” (see also: whatever we have extra of.) vegetable medley or “cream leeks” (a rather tasty dish of sweated leeks doused with heavy cream; this has the marvelous effect of washing out those would be beautiful greens.), and a way too thick, way too rich, way too heavy all-purpose sauce (often a “bps”, or black peppercorn sauce, or some other rich meaty sauce often times mismatching the plated protein.)
Which brings me to the protein; roasted loin sliced and draped over everything else completely obfuscating the would be vibrance to leave a drab brown. However this is only banquets and such as banquets are it is to be somewhat expected. Look either at a VIP banquet or onto the a la carte line to see nicer ingredients but with that same lovely shade of brown that the chef adores. Replace those whipped potatoes for perhaps a ferro “risotto” (more about this abomination of linguistic integrity in another post) some sauteed “wild” mushrooms and such. Covered with whatever protein best fits the beige bill.
When I was your age…
My first major of study in college (wether or not people who know me know this) was art. From K through my freshmen year of community college (Oh yea I went through that role for a long time) I took (at least) one (if not as many as I could) art classes. When I felt that my I couldn’t hone my skills any further (see also: I suck at drawing) I moved on to something else (see also: Childhood ADD has leveled up into Adult ADD) and a while later found my life in food and beverage. However, the art in me still remains but (and I say this with the most reservation because it sounds horribly cliche) the canvas has only changed. (sigh)
Eat with your eyes not with your hands!
Plating presentation is more complex than people will give credit to. You have to present all of the components clearly while keeping the plate interesting. It has to be logical, you’re customers (or dinner guests) should never have to wonder how they are supposed to eat it. It should just work. Above all it should look good; it should appeal to the eye. Pop out at you and make you desire it on looks alone.
Conversely: today (this post has spanned from writing it at 6am when I woke up until midnight just before I goto bed) I saw a terrine Sous Chef Alex plated up as one of the most beautiful things (although still a back breaking boot busting brown) I’ve seen in this kitchen. In my best descriptive narrative (in attempts to rival Tolkien) I tell you of this rectangular white ceramic plate inlaid with a smooth finish plank of wood. Upon this blank rest a elongated hourglass-stream of lentils and herbs bordered with stripes of crème fraîche and placed dead center a terrine of head cheese made from berkshire pig. It was beautiful (if not a little drab in color) and tasted of a wonderment and rich creaminess one doesn’t expect out of the ears, jowls, and snout of a pig.
I know that someday…
I’m not good with endings so this might end up being a running theme. I keep writing until I get tired (see also: drink too much) and goto bed. I cut out without much closure (here I hoped I gave both positive and negative light to the plating done at work) and hope to leave you wanting more instead of wanting to never read this again.
This quote seems to fit rather well (what with being in Seattle and all)
“Into each life some rain must fall, some days must be dark and dreary.”
Thank you Mr. Longfellow.
Less than 2 months left till I got home to New York.
-Christopher
