I meant to read "The Boy With the Thorn in His Side" next, but instead picked up a little piece of bestseller trashy fun called
Kitchen Confidential, by Anthony Bourdain. It's a hoot. Good stories, so full of gratingly macho self-importance and detail that they must be true. From my own experience in some kitchens (even just the view from the waiters' station) I can verify at least the possibility, if not the truth of some of this shit.
some gems:
from the chapter "The Happy Time"-
"We considered ourselves a tribe. As such, we had a number of unusual customs, rituals, and practices all our own. If you cut yourself in the...kitchen, tradition called for maximum spilage and dispersion of blood. One squeezed the wound till it ran freely, then hurled great gouts of red spray on the jackets and aprons of comrades. We loved blood in our kitchen. If you dinged yourself badly, it was no disgrace; we'd stencil a little cut-out shape of a chef's knife under your station to commemorate the event. After a while, you'd have a little row of these things, like a fighter pilot. The house cat - a mouse killer - got her own stencil (a tiny mouse shape) sprayed on the wall by her water bowl, signifying confirmed kills."
this was during a time when he and all his buddies were doing heroin, mushrooms, acid, etc., all day long.
from the "How to Cook Like the Pros" chapter-
"But... but Chef, you say...how do they make the food so tall? How can I make my breast of chicken and mashed potatoes tower like a fully engorged priapus over my awed and cowering guests? The answer is yet another low-tech item: the metal ring... Just pile it high, slip off the collar, stack your vegetable, deposit your chicken on top of that, and you're halfway to making that fuzzy little Emeril your bitch."
It goes on and on: stories about restaurant owners, crazy-ass people (like the broiler man who sewed up a bad knife cut on his hand with needle and thread-
right on the line), reuse of food, bread, etc. There are tips- don't order fish on Monday unless you know when the chef bought it, avoid brunch specials and Monday night specials (blech, if there's one thing I've never been able to enjoy since working them, it's brunch).
His obvious love of food and a well-run kitchen is what makes the book, for me, worth reading. Well, that and his bluntness and sense of humor.
When I was still in the restaurant biz, I practically dreamed of finding a restaurant owner who actually knew what the fuck s/he was doing; someone who was organized, knew food, and knew how to inspire the kind of loyalty and -goddamn I hate the phrase-
team work that's absolutely necessary to run a successful restaurant. The only ones I ever worked for were either certifiably insane, or incredibly stupid.
Here's an excerpt from the beginning of the book; his discovery that
Food is Good.
Here's an old
interview.
Here's a great review of
his newest book, which I now also want to read.
Wow. I was looking for some other reviews of Bourdain's book, and I stumbled on this weird-ass link, via this
page, which explains the history a little.
Restaurant Stress Dolls. holy shit.
"Alleviates Frustration With A Poke Of The Pin!"
