SAD OYSTERS AND SAUCE VIERGE

Recollections, snippets of emails and diary notes from my time as a cook. Entirely fictitious, of course.


Bit of a tough week in the culinary world. Head Chef's been a mite scratchy and I copped a mid-service bollocking.

It was a 6 cover entrée order. The restaurant was heaving and the ticket rail looked like a string of Tibetan prayer flags on Buddha's birthday.

I plated the oysters and paté, put them on the pass and started building a 10-ingredient salad. The fish chef was firing squid for one of the other dishes so I knew I had under a minute to get the salad done or my arse would be in a sling.

Head Chef comes to the pass, eyes bulging, head veins throbbing, finger-stabbing:

Head Chef: "HAVE THESE OYSTERS BEEN BRINED!!!!"

Me (bewildered, preparing to take cover): "N-n-n-o-o-o Chef"

Head Chef: I'VE TOLD YOU BEFORE, OLD OYSTERS NEED TO BE BRINED!! FOR FUCK'S SAKE DO IT NOW!!!!

And he slams the plate of oysters down on my station.

A particularly bad piece of swearage springs to mind. The one I haven’t uttered since circling the Arc de Triomphe roundabout for the fifth time in a clapped out Combi looking for an exit, circa 1986.

So now I have to make a brine that “tastes like sea water” (what, like the Dead Sea? The Amazon Basin? Parnell Baths after a bus-load of pre-school pool-pissers?), dunk, drain and re-plate the oysters, finish the salad and get it all on the pass in 30 seconds. I probably did it in 45. Adrenalin Assistant, every chef's superhero.

The thing is, only ONCE previously he poked my oysters and said "These look a bit sad, dip them in brine, it helps plump them up and look fresher". Apparently that was an ongoing instruction to brine oysters if they're more than a day old. I didn't think my oysters looked sad. Well, not nearly as sad as me.

Not long before service, I discovered there was a new dish on the menu that I knew nothing about.

Head Chef: "Rog, your part of it is Sauce Vierge"

Sauce Vierge? Vierge? French? Green? No, that’s Verde, and Italian. Vierge. Verge? On the edge? No, wait, it’s French and means virgin. That's a huge help, given it's been an eon since I was (x)teen years old.

Me (plainly a culinary imbecile): "I'm sorry Chef, I don't know what that is".

Head Chef (through clenched teeth): "Tomatoes, ground coriander, lemon juice, EVO, chives, parsley, basil, seasoning. What the fuck do they teach you at chef school?”

And that's it. If I ask for more information I'll undoubtedly get sarcasm and eye rolling. I have no idea what it's supposed to look or taste like.

I scurry off to the walk-in to get the ingredients, and while I'm there have a sneaky Google (that's why chef trousers have pockets, to house internet devices) for Sauce Vierge. Heaps of basil. It should have a tang. Obviously coriander seeds need to be toasted before being ground. Tomatoes? Concasse I presume, but what size dice?

I throw something together and get the other chefs (not the Head Chef because he's doing the crossword) to taste it as well. I don't think they know how it should be either, but they're a year ahead of me and way more confident. More salt (as always). More lemon. Three times I ask them to taste it. They lose patience and finally say “whatever you think”.

I really don't understand, if it was MY restaurant, there’s no way I’d trust the palate of a rookie straight out of chef school. I'd give them a recipe and/or taste it myself, until I knew they’d nailed it. A commis, my senior, once told me not to put salt in the mayo. I was mortified to serve it. Later, when the Head Chef tried it, I benefited from a fiercely delivered lesson in seasoning.

These are examples of mid-service "training", conducted after you’ve cocked up, served in a patronising tone and drizzled with sarcasm, at best. Add a side of enraged bollocking and finish with a rubbish-binning or plate-smashing, at worst. But as chefs say (when re-attaching a fingertip/comparing burn blisters/midway through a 16 hour hungover shift), "take a tough pill". One thing's for sure, when you're taught something during service in a restaurant kitchen, you don't forget it.

A couple of hours later while I'm still battling a mountain of dessert orders and the other chefs are having a smoke/stock-taking/cleaning down:

Head Chef: "How many oysters have you got left?"

None. Ran out hours ago. Been serving bison snot and guinea pig placentas instead. Can’t you see how busy I am?

Me (clueless, somewhere between 4 and 6 dozen, should I hazard a guess?): "I don't know Chef".

Head Chef (spit forming): "DON'T YOU KNOW HOW MANY YOU STARTED WITH?"

No Chef. I generally just wing it with quantities and hope for the best, because I know you won't have an apoplectic conniption if I run out of anything mid service.

Me: "Yes Chef, 11 dozen".

Head Chef (sucking in air and addressing a 5 year old): "Well, Rog, how many did you USE then?"

The caramel sauce is boiling over. It’s so hot the ice cream balls are melting before I can get them to the pass. FOH has nicked my sorbet bowls for butter dishes. The freezer door is sticking and requires two arms and a leg to prise it open. And some moron (me) over-whipped the cream.

Me: "Sorry Chef, I didn't keep count".

See, normally I do a stocktake after service. You know, when the desserts are all away, the other chefs have gone home and I’m cleaning down, filling out the order sheet and writing a prep list for the next day. However, judging by the pursed lips and Homer Simpson eyeballs, plus the fact that I’m clearly an idiot for not memorising every order that came through my section, I figure I’d better halt dessert production and count the bloody oysters.

(Yes, if I'd been down to my last couple of dozen during service I'd have informed FOH so they'd ease up on trying to flog them off, but I know I've got plenty).

Three days later when the Head Chef is in a better frame of mind, I ask him to taste the Sauce Vierge I've made for that night's service. An extremely scary initiative, but I actually care about the restaurant’s reputation and what I’m sending out.

Head Chef: "More salt".

Other than that, it must be OK.

That's how to learn, right?