Ms. Glaze's Pommes d'Amour

All Burnt Out! (Help me plan Family Meal)

I have no idea how I'm going to work tomorrow. No idea. I burned myself so badly on Friday night that I just don't think my foot will rebound in time.

My foot! Can you believe it?

I slipped on the rubber matting while shifting my weight to dump a large pot of boiling salted water down the drain and instead dumped it right down my ankle and into my cooking clog.

Immediately I rolled up my pant leg to get the hot cloth off my skin. But my sock and shoe were the last to come off trapping the heat in for longer.

Wincing, I tried to continue with my mise en place but the burning sensation wouldn't subside. I stuck my foot in an ice bath and still the burning continued. I smeared burn gel all over it but no relief. The burn burned for five hours after the accident.

Five hours!

Fifteen minutes after icing and gelling, inch-high blisters started bubbling up over the top of my foot and the skin around my ankle began peeling off.

Time to go to the hospital. So much for working a double shift. And what a terrible way to end a difficult day.

This week has been hard and I'm not sure why. I love my new station and I have a firm grasp on all the mise en place. I absolutely adore working with the morning staff, many who have been at the restaurant for over fifteen years and understand/embody the concept of mentoring.

And I especially love cooking Family Meal. It's the highlight of my day and I've been enjoying the complimentary response from the staff. And I would LOVE some new creative ideas that are tasty, feed over 35 people, and can be made in an hour and a half.

I make a lot of fish stews (cioppino and thai curry are big hits right now) with the extra scraps from our fish butcher. Most of the fish is white and includes: black bass, striped bass, halibut, cod, monk fish, and skate.

Unfortunately the scraps are all different sizes and normally not big enough to serve as whole fillets so some sort of stew or all-covering sauce works best.

I once made fish tacos with black beans, rice, salsa fresca, and gaucamole. That meal disappeared fast.

Got any ideas? Recipes? For mixed fish scraps?!?!?!

My pantry at work always includes:
1. Canned tomatoes, tomato paste
2. Coconut milk
3. Onions: red, yellow, green onions, garlic
4. Potatoes: russet, yukon gold
5. Rice: japanese, basmati, uncle Ben's
6. Black beans dried, chinese black beans
7. Israeli couscous
8. Pasta: rigatoni, spaghetti, penne
9.Vegetables: green beans, zucchini, eggplant, tomatoes, bok choy, carrots, celery, cauliflower, etc
10. Herbs: cilantro, parsley, thyme, rosemary, kaffir lime leaves, lemon grass, chives, bay leaves, mint, basil, thai basil
11. Mushrooms: chinese dried mushrooms, button mushrooms, wild mushrooms
12. Chicken stock
13. Sauces: sirracha, soya sauce, thai red curry paste, harissa paste
14. Nuts: almonds, walnuts, pine nuts, pecans
15. Dried fruits: cherries, figs, apricots

Help a burnt out cook and send your recipes to msglaze@gmail.com or write them below. International recipes welcome – especially the spicy ones!

You Can't Go Anywhere WIthout Salt

It's a mad dash to Penn Station to catch the Long Island Rail to some place promising sun and sand called: Montauk. Which, as I was explained to in careful detail while making Hotel reservations, is not 'The Hamptons'. And not to be confused with 'The Hamptons'.

In the underground maze of Penn Station I find the ticket machine, grab my roundtrip stub, and check the board for departure time. Just as I find my destination glittering in orange lights, the gate number flickers on next to it and hundreds of beach ready New Yorkers dying to get out of the city, surge like a swarm of bees attempting to squeeze all at once down a narrow hallway to the train platform.

Everyone is frantic to find a seat. Parents are getting separated from children, husbands from wives, sororities from fraternities. It's a cluster fuck.

I race to the last car and happily find a seat empty in a four seater – two seats facing two seats. I sit across from a nice looking girl and we are both thankful that no one yet has tried to claim the vacant seats next to us. I take the isle seat and put my two carry on bags next to me to claim the window space.

It's the first weekend I've had off in months. And I really want to relax.

I begin to close my eyes, thinking about this long week and pondering new ideas for family meal at the restaurant I cook at, when four absolutely stunning, skimpily clad, young, and totally annoying models squeeze in next to me and across the way.

I don't mind moving my stuff and scooching over to the window seat. I'm transferring trains anyway in 15 minutes. But God, their conversation is so petty, that I almost wish I had just opted to stand.

"So this guy was trying to get my number in the train station the other day, and he takes out his Blackberry and it falls onto the tracks, and he jumps down to get it and there's a train coming. He leaps back up. But oh my God, he could have been killed. Just for my phone number, ya know? He's so stupid."

"So are you gonna see him?"

"Uh, no."

"So what did you bring in that big bag?"

"Um, I have a fold up beach chair, towel, change of clothes for tonight, margarita mix..."

"You brought margarita mix? But you didn't bring tequilla?"

"We talked about this remember? It's just one less thing we have to buy. Okay, I also have handsanitizer and salt and..."

"You carry salt in your purse?"

"Yeah, you can't go anywhere without salt."

"Who carries salt in their purse?"

"I do."

I kept waiting for her to add that the salt was intended for the margaritas. But no. She just carries salt around in her purse. Had she not been born into a ridiculously perfect body that under no conditions could/should sustain kitchen brutality, she might have become a chef.

No doubt about it, salt can make or break a meal. And cooks that don't like salt are eyed with disdain, awe, and curiosity in the kitchen. While most home cooks season food with a two finger pinch of salt, we kitchen cooks opt for the three finger pinch. Sometimes the four finger grab. And as I've come to realize, New Yorkers like salt waaaaay more than San Franciscans or even Parisians for that matter.

The conductor announces that Jamaica station is next and I squeeze my way in between a plethora of long legs and edge my way down the packed isle of beach goers to the train door.

Thankfully only half the people on my train are transferring stations and the other half (models included) are headed to Long Island beach, wherever that is.

I find a new seat next to a nice man who is glued to his i-phone. Which is fine because I'm glued to my computer trying to remember the exact verbiage of the models only seconds before. He's talking to a friend and giving out restaurant suggestions in Pennsylvania. Again the salt issue comes up:

"Yeah, this restaurant's great but it's B.Y.O.B and the food is well seasoned so you gotta B.Y.O.B. if ya know whud I mean?"

And I'm thinking: did he really say "well seasoned"? Wow, everyone's a salt fanatic here.

I have to laugh at myself because the very first family meal I made for the staff lunch was a nice spicy fish stew with beautiful steaming white basmati rice. The expensive kind that cooks up fluffy and is snow white in color with long elegant grains.

But I didn't season the water, because I personally like my rice plain. Especially if I'm going to spoon something that's already salty over it.

I don't think I'll be making that mistake again. The Caribbean fish stew was good. It was teaming with carrots and potatoes and spices, but one of the Latino janitors came up to me and said:

"The stew was good. But not the rice. What do you think we are? Chinese? You need to put salt."

I could have killed him on the spot. It's not easy to set up my station which includes an insane amount of garnishes and sauces and cook family meal for the entire body of servers, cooks, and janitorial staff. In fact it's a race to the finish line everyday.

I told him:

"You know where the salt is, why don't you use it next time? I don't know how you have the time to criticize my food. The rest of us don't even have time to swallow."

However, the next day I made pasta with a nice slowly cooked marinara sauce and he came up to me and said:

"The sauce? You made the sauce?"

"Yes, I made the sauce."

"Very good. Very, very good. Lots of flavor. Tomatoes were fresh? How did you do it? Pasta was good too, you salted the water."

"Yes, just for you."

"Pasta sauce very, very good."

I decided to let him live another week after his compliments. And I might add that the janitorial staff have become the most vocal critics of my staff meals. And although most of the time I can't understand a word they say, they always come up to me in person and tell me when they like the food. Which honestly, drives me to do something even better the next day.

I've also begun to notice that they walk by my station as family meal draws near to see what I'm concocting.

My French girlfriend Camille (who I cook with) also speaks Spanish and often after staff lunch she will come up and say, "They like it. That's what they're saying. Your food is good. They are talking about the flavor. And they like the rice too. You make good rice."

So let it be known that salt can not only enhance your margarita on the beach and encourage you to drink more beer with friends at diner, it can also make a staff of hungry food critics happy. And more importantly, make an exhausting job one worth having.

End of One Line: Hot Appetizers

The executive chef pulls me into his office Friday before dinner service, tells me to get comfortable, and asks me to take off my hat.

I'm sitting there staring at him wondering if I'm going to get fired. My mind starts playing back the week trying to recall any unforgivable errors.

I take my hat off and rest it on his desk.

Normally, when pulled into his office I sit in a chair and he sits on his desk towering and totally intimidating the living daylights out of me. He's a big guy with football shoulders and sharp blue eyes that can change instantly from humor to hostility.

But this time he takes the only other chair in the office and we sit eye to eye.

Yikes, I'm really in trouble this time.

The office is incased in glass within the kitchen, so all other employees can see what's going on even if they can't hear what's going on. I'm quite aware that my body language is communicating what my colleagues can't hear.

So we're sitting eye to eye – merde – this is it and I don't even know what I did. Could it be that I told a cavalier employee to clean his station the other night with words perhaps stronger than recommended in the employee handbook? Did a customer find a crab shell in the new panacotta dish and choke? Am I too slow, too silly, too, too, too....?

"How do you think you're doing right now? Would you say that you have been successful here?"

"Yes chef, I think I really understand the cuisine on a deeper level and my skills have improved greatly. I'm more focused and I enjoy being here everyday – even though every day isn't easy..."

I'm babbling a mile a minute wishing something profound to come out of mouth, instead feeling like every sentence is canned and falling to the floor like bricks dropped from the top of the Empire State building.

"Yes, I would agree with you. You've done very well at veg station, your raviolis and your lobster plates were good at rav station, you know all the positions in garde manger inside and out, you've done fish pass and canape station well. I'd say you have been successful too."

Wait whaaaaaaat?

In the ten months I've worked at this restaurant, this is the first time I've ever heard a serious compliment from the executive chef. Understand that in a 3-Michelin star restaurant 'good' is never 'good enough'.

"I'd like to start you on Morning Hot Apps this Monday."

"Great Chef!"

Most cooks dread this position. It's a lot of work and a lot of responsibility. The position is titled 'Morning Hot Apps' (appetizers) because the cook comes in at the wee hours of the morning to prep mise en place for the day and night, cook family lunch for 50 people, and run the line during service for the veg station and garde manger.

Lunch service is fast and furious often serving one hundred clients in less than 3 hours.

"You know this station is a lot of responsibility. You must show up whether you are sick, injured, or otherwise."

"Yes, Chef, I know."

"However, I do not want you to get stuck at this station. I think you have more value in the evening during the longer service, but you will learn a lot about being a chef from this position and I know that is important to you. This position is no joke, huh?"

"Yes, Chef."

He calls in the executive sous Chef and asks him to join our conversation about the Morning Hot Apps position.

The French executive sous chef in his thick accent sums it up:

"Amy, eets a laaaht ov wurk, hein? Eets naught uhn easee stahsion, tu sais?"

"Oui chef, je sais."

The Executive Chef excuses me from his office to go begin setting up the line and I'm positively glowing. I'm so happy I could burst. And although the compliments could have done that alone and the responsibility is over the top exciting and challenging, I'm also just flat out ready to have a normal life even if it is only for 6 weeks. I haven't seen the sun in God only knows how long.

The shift ends at 4 P.M in the afternoon and includes two days off in a row: Saturday and Sunday. My body could use a good a rest and my social life could use some improvement.

I joke with the executive chef as I'm wiping down the stainless steel on the line:

"Wow, now I'm going to be able to work out in the evening, maybe go on a date, write my blog..."

"Don't get too used it, huh? It's only for 6 weeks and it is hard work, and I want to see you on the entree line after that. This is your life Amy. Everything you want is here."

He smirks viciously and I laugh at the hard truth we all have committed our lives to.

"Really? I didn't know that husbands, babies, and toned abs came from here chef?"

He rolls his eyes, annoyed (or amused?) by my somewhat wry sense of humor.

I continue my scrubbing, and suddenly my heart skips a beat as I realize what I have to prove at this station. The reality settles and I start thinking about family meal and all the dishes we pick-up on the Hot Apps station. It is no joke.

I grab my little black moleskine note pad and start diagramming the 8 dishes that come off the station and all the garnishes and sauces that are included on each:

My jaw drops. I know how to pick- up all the dishes during service, but I've never prepped them before.

BACALAO (salted cod):
1. Salt cod with smoked salt over night. Grill. Flake
2. Sprinkle with brunoised chives and red onion, olive oil, sherry viniagre
3. Make arugula purée
4. Make lemon confit purée
5. Garnish with brunoised tomato confit, preserved lemon chiffonade, parsley, and almonds
6. Make garlic chips (slice garlic on mandoline very thin,blanch garlic slivers, gently fry in oil)
7. Make garlic oil

But really, I'm ready and excited for this position.

The dishes are beautiful and I've never had the opportunity to work with octopus from beginning to end, or make bacalao (salted cod), or prepare scallops that are so alive they are still quivering when sliced. And the sauces and garnishes are worldly drawing upon flavors from Japan, Spain, India, and France.

Now family meal is another kettle of fish.

You are up for scrutiny not only from all the chefs but all your colleagues as well. I enjoyed cooking family meal for the staff at Guy Savoy twice a day and I somehow managed to squeeze in all my mise en place and endure cooking through lunch and dinner service so I'm pretty sure I can manage it.

Although I doubt I'll be cooking veal liver, lamb's brains, tongue, or tripe for my friends here. Which is a big sigh of relief. There's only so much offal an American girl can stomach.

And even though I haven't posted a recipe on this blog for months (because I simply have no time to cook at home) I do enjoy coming up with my own dishes and using the creative side of my brain that often is on silent mode at work.

If my family meal really sucks, maybe I'll surprise everyone and just order pizza. I hear you can get anything delivered in NYC. Ha!

So all in all, I'm looking forward and cooking forward to the next 6 weeks of Morning Hot Apps. Wish me luck! And feel free to email any fabulous pasta and fish stew dishes that serve masses of people!