Oh How the Tables Have Turned

It has been less than one week since my last shift at Cafe Confidential and I eagerly await orientation at my new job in the coming days. As I sit on the plane flying away from the corn and soy bean fields for the concrete jungle of my adopted NYC, I'm forced to recon with the fact that I don't do well when unemployed. Over the last three days, today in particular, I have become one of those borderline rude customers that drew my ire, but for different reasons. Honest person that I am, this entry will serve myself up as the annoying customer.

My problem began two days ago during a celebratory dinner at Bacaro in Champaign, IL, easily the finest restaurant in town, no doubt a result of the NYC influences of its executive chef/owner. The meal was superb, exactly what a restaurant experience should be. The bartender, who briefly worked with with my best friend at another restaurant in town, started us off with glasses of Prosecco followed by one each of the two drink specials. Neither disappointed. Next, we were treated to complimentary amuse bouche, a savory smoked shrimp with orange and fennel before our appetizers and entrees arrived. We shared a slice of pumpkin cake for dessert complemented by a fine glass of Riesling. I was in culinary heaven, made that much better by the personal connection my friend shared with the bartender and server and I with another server and the executive sous chef who prepared our meals. I felt connected to the restaurant.

Sounds like a good thing, right? Wrong. The next day, I encountered two customer service professionals before going for dinner at the award-winning BBQ restaurant, Black Dog where, as I discovered, I knew two of the cooks and one server. With each customer service pro and then the Black Dog bartender and host, I found myself obnoxiously trying to help them manage their stations more efficiently, on the one hand, and making demands based on expectations for speed and multitasking held for myself, that were unreasonable for people accustomed to working at a slower pace. I could clearly recognize the bartender's contempt for me and could hardly blame her. Although I will maintain that it is not unreasonable for a person to take two separate drink orders at once.

Today, I reached my low point boarding the plane to Atlanta. Already frustrated by the deliberate (read: ungodly slow) pace of the passenger ahead of me, I interrupted him to request that he reverse the direction of his duffel bag, even as he was reaching to place it in the overhead compartment. Yes, I could already recognize that his duffel placement would be inefficient and decrease the available space for my bag and simply could not suffer the inconvenience of moving it myself. Needless to say, the passenger in 18A is not my biggest fan. Nor is the flight attendant that expressed frustration when I tried to assist his colleague in delivering a beverage to the person sitting next to me. No, I don't know her. But the young woman ordered a drink and shouldn't be expected to wait that long.

My lesson? First of all, sometimes I need to chill out and remember that I am in no way perfect. Second, I can recommit to the notion that line cooks and servers have a special kind of genius for organizing tasks and working efficiently. After three years as a cook, I am not at genius level yet. But I will always do my best to show appreciation to the people that prepare and deliver my food at a restaurant. There is such amazing mental agility to go with physical prowess and culinary knowledge. I am proud to be among them.

She Just Might 'Liquor

Who says you need to work with customers to get a daily dose of buffalo-chicken moments? This ex-cafe line cook hit the road today, leaving my beloved NYC on a jet plane only I know when I'm getting back again. Returning to my most recent roots where my cooking career began, I took a mid-morning flight to Champaign, IL. No, that's not a misspelling... trust me, there's little bubbly about this corn and soybean town. I had some good times in Champaign where I spent four years working on my PhD in Communications, one and a half of those years working on full-time in the evenings as a grill and fryer station cook at a local tapas restaurant. I also met my best friend - a brilliant professor/grad student who happens to have an accomplished resume as a server in NYC - thus my reason for returning.

But I digress. I arrived at LaGuardia in the morning on an empty stomach and made it through security by 10AM, where I found myself in line at a breakfast/lunch cafe and bar feeling overwhelming sympathy for the line attendant. There were three customers ahead in line: two high school or college aged kids (their maturity level gave me no indication either way) and a woman I'm guessing in her late 60s with comically red hair. The kiddies engaged in a spirited commentary bemoaning the cost of the $3.00 hot dog, laughing about the possibility of eating lunch food for breakfast (ever nurse a hangover, kiddies?). No real buffalo-chicken moment here... just a couple people that have probably never worked a day in their life complaining about food cost in A) New York City and B) an airport. I'm sorry, but are they new?

Red hair, on the other hand, is a different story. Actually, more of a muffled conversation. Truthfully, I couldn't hear much of what she had to say. But I caught every eye roll, forced smile, groan and response from the line cook. The exchange went something like this:

Lady in Red (Hair): Garbled sounds resembling any adult voice in the Peanuts cartoons.

Line Cook: The bar is separate ma'am. And it doesn't open until 11:00 AM.

Lady in Red (Hair): More garbled sounds, leaning closer to the line cook in a desperate attempt to emphasize her point.

Line Cook: I understand that ma'am. But I'm sorry, I can't open the bar early. The bar opens at 11 AM.

Lady in Red (Hair): Dejected look, pays for her food, turns toward the bar and then returns to the line cook, speaking in Peanuts voice again.

Line Cook: No, ma'am. The bar never opens before 11 AM.


Points for effort, I suppose. But here's a word to the wise. Asking the same question over and over will not inspire a new answer. It might, however, get you a phone number and address for a local AA meeting.

I'm Back

Hello dear readers! Did you miss me?

I know, probably not. But let this begin my second attempt to share the trials and tribulations of the line cook. But first, an explanation for my absence.

In spite of my best efforts at creating an entertaining, but professional, record of my bizarre and frustrating experiences at Cafe Confidential, this blog rubbed the wrong way a few important members of the parent company. Whoops. In an attempt to diffuse conflict, Buffalo-Chicken-Moments took a short vacation. Their concerns are legitimate - could a blog that serves up many of its customers be bad for business? Perhaps although I thought not likely. Still, I respect their concerns.

So, what's changed to make me bring the blog back? Big news for this lowly line cook - I'm moving on up to a new opportunity with an amazing culinary staff. A very exciting opportunity to say the least, one that will not involve any customer interaction. After finishing my final two weeks, I am gainfully unemployed until I begin my new venture next week.

So what does this mean for Buffalo-Chicken-Moments? For now, not much. I have plenty of stories that have yet to be told and I will happily share them two or three times per week until they run out. After that, I may explore a change in direction to focus more on food and nutrition while offering up classic buffalo-chicken-moments that I might observe during my own dining experiences. It remains to be seen.

But know this, dear readers. I've missed you and I'm happy to be back. Check back soon for new entries.

On Hold

Dear Readers,

For reasons that will become clear at a later date, this blog is going into the proofer for awhile. I'll be back.

Go Giants

Dear Readers,

I've done my best to write only about food in this young blog - that certainly is my commitment. But, as a native Californian who grew up a Giants fan, attending hundreds of games in Candlestick Park and AT&T Park before and even after I began my travels, I need to give a shout out to my favorite sports team. The San Francisco Giants have won the World Series, 4 games to 1 over the Texas Rangers.

Kitchens are often a rag-tag collection of characters. So was this team. To Giants fans all over the world, join me in celebrating misfits gone right!

Back to food tomorrow, I promise.

*** On second though... I want to add one more thing. I watched the final four innings from the bar next door to my apartment in the Bronx. Do not be mistaken, this is Yankee country. But the bartender turned the volume on the TV for the last inning and didn't charge me for my beer. I walked out with congratulations from the waitstaff and bartender. I believe that this is unique to food service. They are special people. So for everyone at Jake's Steakhouse, thanks for sharing this special moment with me.