Line Cook
Cooking is the entry-level job that I stayed at the longest. Which puts it at the top of the list for most bearable bouts of employment for the beginner.
How bearable the job will be rests largely on your personality.
Doesn't it always?
The higher paying starting positions will be found at upper class franchises like Longhorn and Outback Steakhouse. Inexperienced teenagers can generally land a job there starting in the prep area. Sometimes you may have to pull double duty as a dishwasher until you can prove your worth.
While you learn the ins and outs of slicing and spinning lettuce dry, you will protect yourself with three gloves. A latex glove for sanitation, a chain-mail gauntlet for protection, and another latex glove for the gauntlet's longevity. Slicing veggies in that get-up is like playing pick up sticks in boxing gloves. I may have once had a salad returned sporting a glove garnish. That may have set my advancement to fry cook back another day or two.
Franchises are systematic. If you can remember the exact order of instructions for every dish, you will be an asset to the operation. They will teach you to put a timer on every slice of meat that hits the grill, and dish out exact teaspoons of sauces and dressings per plate. If you've been lauded for your possession of book smarts, you will thrive in a setting like Longhorn. Likely, you'll love it.
Repetition never set with me for very long. Eventually, I would start to think of any way I could change something for the better. If I couldn't do that, I would settle for changing the way things were done just for the fun of it. Needless to say, my favorite places to work were not the franchises.
There's something different about being called a cook and a chef. People go to culinary schools for years to be crowned chef. But, take it from me, if you want to truly learn culinary magic, find a place that lets your creativity run rampant.
You want to be able to slice down the edge of your bare knuckles, and poke a rib eye with your finger to tell if it's done. Throw a dash of salt, use too much pepper, and have the choice of sauteing those veggies over steaming them in a microwave.
Every line-cook who comes through a decent family owned restaurant will teach you something new. Keep an open mind and stay far from the trap of becoming a know-it-all and you will learn more than you ever will in a chef school.
Personally, I found my love in Irish pubs. TJ Mulligans in Memphis, TN first showed me what it was to have freedom in the kitchen.
A three-hundred pound black man introduced me to sharpening my knife, and a fifty-year-old Muslim woman taught me the importance of preparing my cold and hot line early. I remember that James' voice was such a baritone that it demanded you watch his lips for certainty; he didn't like to repeat himself. Legend had it, he had once beat a man senseless after the new guy accidentally swept his feet with the broom. When he spoke, you listened. When you didn't understand what he'd said, you just did anything for him, that he may have desired, in the off-chance you'd guess correctly.
After a few months of working with him, I had become adept at keeping my station clean, and scrubbing the floors after a hard day's work. But, I still wanted to learn just how he kept his shoes so white during such a busy shift. Mine were usually so thick and heavy with grease I felt the mob was preparing to sink me in the Chicago river.
We called the broiler 'the salamander'. I can only guess it was named that because the food had to belly-in to fit inside. You can really finish up a bowl of broccoli or french onion soup with a nice char on the cheese. French breads, pizza subs, and cheesy bruschettas all go nice in the salamander. While they're browning, you'll be shaking fryer baskets full of french fries, potato skins, and chicken wings.
Sometimes, bouncing back and forth in the kitchen feels like a mad game of whack-a-mole, but when you sync with your co-workers under such pressure, it can be a beautiful thing.
I left Mulligan's a decent cook.
Before I would get my shot at a real bistro, I underwent two separate bouts of employment on the overnight shift at Waffle House. I would still work at Waffle House, had I not got terminated for writing a memoir during my employment there.
As the Waffle Burns, was a syrupy satire that was practically begging to be written. Since time immemorial the running joke was that anyone employed at Waffle House was just another actor in our own personal soap opera. As dramatic as it was, and as funny as the customer photo's are in the book, the experience of cooking at a Waffle House is what had me return for seconds.
You get to run the show at night. How fast and how perfect can you dish out each order? Waffles are cooking in the irons, bread is popping up from the toaster, eggs are frying in pans and in rings. Grits are getting dry and hashbrowns are too light on oil. Variables, tons of them. The whole while three waitresses are belting out, "Order over medium scattered, smothered, topped, and diced on two!"
What's not to love?
Mastering the flattop is akin to working at a Hibachi grill. You'll start spinning the spatulas and move on to flipping the knives (at your own peril). I could once perform a triple with a twist. Eventually, cheese steaks will soften and separate at your beck and call. Eggs will glide smoothly in their pans and you'll flip fluffy omelets twice in the air to every onlookers delight.
The confidence you'll build under the big yellow sign is unmatched. Then again, when everyone's half-drunk and exhausted, everything you cook will be a five-star meal.
If you ever decide to depart from the warm comfort of Waffle House drama (many find homes there and move onto management) you will be forever on the lookout to replicate that homely atmosphere in the workforce.
Get as lucky as I did, and you might find a family owned bistro that doubles as an Irish pub.
On your journey to lead cook, you're existence will likely reciprocate itself by most of your paycheck going right back to the bar you work for. But, while you wait out three changes in management, and hope to one day be promoted from the back of the house to a bartending position, you'll start feeling like a real chef. Your daily specials will begin appearing on the bistro's roadside sign. Chicken Marsala, Jay's World Famous Arabata, Lobster A'la King, you name it they love it.
As you get better, your clothes will stay cleaner, and yes, your sneakers will eventually stay white. You'll think of James.
Likely you'll run kegs as a bar back, and take up washing your own dishes in an attempt to break the myth that back of the house employees can never cross over.
Customers, waitresses, and managers will frequent your window with special requests right before closing, and you will feel honored knowing that your meal made them smile. Plus, the complimentary drinks associated with such acts of valor are a plus. Something about people loving the food you cook makes a man feel good.
When customers breach the door right before closing, it can be irritating. The grill will be bricked, the fryer oil filtered. The open flame barbecue will have been scraped and fired, but you'll still be expected to deliver your most quality dish. It is your quality after all. With time you will find tricks to keep your surfaces clean. A little aluminum foil on the flattop, fingertips and patience with the cold line as you select the garnishes, and a little extra shaking of fried foods before the drop will make all the difference.
Serve it with pride.
Now, turn all of the dials to off, cut the gas to the grills, and take a final look down the line before switching off the light. The silver appliances sparkle, the cutting boards cast a pale glow, and the red tile floor is so clean you could eat off it.
You've made it.
Cooking was one of the most rewarding and memorable jobs I worked as a young man. I made lots of friends and lots of mistakes. I also made lots of money. If I could do it all over again, the only thing I would change is how much of it I saved.
-Jay M Horne
Jay Horne is an author and publisher out of Bradenton, Florida who has shared a genuine interest in philosophy and writing since early childhood. He is a husband and father of four. Jay enjoys writing fiction, humor, horror, and teen & young adult.
View all of his professional and philosophical works of literature on his Amazon author page where you will find blogs, videos, and free excerpts:
Jay M Horne
While you learn the ins and outs of slicing and spinning lettuce dry, you will protect yourself with three gloves. A latex glove for sanitation, a chain-mail gauntlet for protection, and another latex glove for the gauntlet's longevity. Slicing veggies in that get-up is like playing pick up sticks in boxing gloves. I may have once had a salad returned sporting a glove garnish. That may have set my advancement to fry cook back another day or two.
Franchises are systematic. If you can remember the exact order of instructions for every dish, you will be an asset to the operation. They will teach you to put a timer on every slice of meat that hits the grill, and dish out exact teaspoons of sauces and dressings per plate. If you've been lauded for your possession of book smarts, you will thrive in a setting like Longhorn. Likely, you'll love it.
Repetition never set with me for very long. Eventually, I would start to think of any way I could change something for the better. If I couldn't do that, I would settle for changing the way things were done just for the fun of it. Needless to say, my favorite places to work were not the franchises.
There's something different about being called a cook and a chef. People go to culinary schools for years to be crowned chef. But, take it from me, if you want to truly learn culinary magic, find a place that lets your creativity run rampant.
You want to be able to slice down the edge of your bare knuckles, and poke a rib eye with your finger to tell if it's done. Throw a dash of salt, use too much pepper, and have the choice of sauteing those veggies over steaming them in a microwave.
Every line-cook who comes through a decent family owned restaurant will teach you something new. Keep an open mind and stay far from the trap of becoming a know-it-all and you will learn more than you ever will in a chef school.
Sometimes,
bouncing back and forth in the kitchen feels like a mad game of
whack-a-mole, but when you sync with your co-workers under such
pressure, it can be a beautiful thing.
Personally, I found my love in Irish pubs. TJ Mulligans in Memphis, TN first showed me what it was to have freedom in the kitchen.
A three-hundred pound black man introduced me to sharpening my knife, and a fifty-year-old Muslim woman taught me the importance of preparing my cold and hot line early. I remember that James' voice was such a baritone that it demanded you watch his lips for certainty; he didn't like to repeat himself. Legend had it, he had once beat a man senseless after the new guy accidentally swept his feet with the broom. When he spoke, you listened. When you didn't understand what he'd said, you just did anything for him, that he may have desired, in the off-chance you'd guess correctly.
After a few months of working with him, I had become adept at keeping my station clean, and scrubbing the floors after a hard day's work. But, I still wanted to learn just how he kept his shoes so white during such a busy shift. Mine were usually so thick and heavy with grease I felt the mob was preparing to sink me in the Chicago river.
We called the broiler 'the salamander'. I can only guess it was named that because the food had to belly-in to fit inside. You can really finish up a bowl of broccoli or french onion soup with a nice char on the cheese. French breads, pizza subs, and cheesy bruschettas all go nice in the salamander. While they're browning, you'll be shaking fryer baskets full of french fries, potato skins, and chicken wings.
Sometimes, bouncing back and forth in the kitchen feels like a mad game of whack-a-mole, but when you sync with your co-workers under such pressure, it can be a beautiful thing.
I left Mulligan's a decent cook.
Before I would get my shot at a real bistro, I underwent two separate bouts of employment on the overnight shift at Waffle House. I would still work at Waffle House, had I not got terminated for writing a memoir during my employment there.
As the Waffle Burns, was a syrupy satire that was practically begging to be written. Since time immemorial the running joke was that anyone employed at Waffle House was just another actor in our own personal soap opera. As dramatic as it was, and as funny as the customer photo's are in the book, the experience of cooking at a Waffle House is what had me return for seconds.
You get to run the show at night. How fast and how perfect can you dish out each order? Waffles are cooking in the irons, bread is popping up from the toaster, eggs are frying in pans and in rings. Grits are getting dry and hashbrowns are too light on oil. Variables, tons of them. The whole while three waitresses are belting out, "Order over medium scattered, smothered, topped, and diced on two!"What's not to love?
Mastering the flattop is akin to working at a Hibachi grill. You'll start spinning the spatulas and move on to flipping the knives (at your own peril). I could once perform a triple with a twist. Eventually, cheese steaks will soften and separate at your beck and call. Eggs will glide smoothly in their pans and you'll flip fluffy omelets twice in the air to every onlookers delight.
The confidence you'll build under the big yellow sign is unmatched. Then again, when everyone's half-drunk and exhausted, everything you cook will be a five-star meal.
If you ever decide to depart from the warm comfort of Waffle House drama (many find homes there and move onto management) you will be forever on the lookout to replicate that homely atmosphere in the workforce.
Get as lucky as I did, and you might find a family owned bistro that doubles as an Irish pub.
On your journey to lead cook, you're existence will likely reciprocate itself by most of your paycheck going right back to the bar you work for. But, while you wait out three changes in management, and hope to one day be promoted from the back of the house to a bartending position, you'll start feeling like a real chef. Your daily specials will begin appearing on the bistro's roadside sign. Chicken Marsala, Jay's World Famous Arabata, Lobster A'la King, you name it they love it.
As you get better, your clothes will stay cleaner, and yes, your sneakers will eventually stay white. You'll think of James.
Likely you'll run kegs as a bar back, and take up washing your own dishes in an attempt to break the myth that back of the house employees can never cross over.
Customers, waitresses, and managers will frequent your window with special requests right before closing, and you will feel honored knowing that your meal made them smile. Plus, the complimentary drinks associated with such acts of valor are a plus. Something about people loving the food you cook makes a man feel good.
When customers breach the door right before closing, it can be irritating. The grill will be bricked, the fryer oil filtered. The open flame barbecue will have been scraped and fired, but you'll still be expected to deliver your most quality dish. It is your quality after all. With time you will find tricks to keep your surfaces clean. A little aluminum foil on the flattop, fingertips and patience with the cold line as you select the garnishes, and a little extra shaking of fried foods before the drop will make all the difference.
Serve it with pride.
Now, turn all of the dials to off, cut the gas to the grills, and take a final look down the line before switching off the light. The silver appliances sparkle, the cutting boards cast a pale glow, and the red tile floor is so clean you could eat off it.
You've made it.
Cooking was one of the most rewarding and memorable jobs I worked as a young man. I made lots of friends and lots of mistakes. I also made lots of money. If I could do it all over again, the only thing I would change is how much of it I saved.
-Jay M Horne
Jay Horne is an author and publisher out of Bradenton, Florida who has shared a genuine interest in philosophy and writing since early childhood. He is a husband and father of four. Jay enjoys writing fiction, humor, horror, and teen & young adult.
View all of his professional and philosophical works of literature on his Amazon author page where you will find blogs, videos, and free excerpts:
Jay M Horne
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