We Were Pirates

I'd love to tell you a story of when I first became a chef. Debate it all you want, the truth is 'when it happens to you you will know it, and then you can call yourself such.' I had left a job, working tourist-trade and making exceptional money because I had felt the need to get to my roots, to get to the source of why I had chosen to cook/serve food and beverage- my whole life.

I was accepted as a cook at an Irish Pub. One that had the reputation of serving it as close as you could get to the real thing. The pay- abyssmal, the benefits- lacking, the reputation- nominal. Yet, it did cover my expenses (at the time,) it did offer all the Beamish I could drink and it was featured on Food Network (after I got hired on!) Oh! And did I mention that it was located within walking distance of a college? For a young man, co-ed's do play a role in our employment decisions, sorry to dissapoint...

This job was tough. I would walk the three blocks home each night with my clothes literally stuck to me from the accumilation of oil, sweat and vapor. The kitchen was not air-conditioned, in Florida. We did numbers so insane that to ask 'how many covers tonight' became moot and almost the idoidic question.

The chef, a CIA guy who had learned to adjust his learning to fit the environment, was a fierce one. We did some amazing things with Sysco premade items! Sounds crazy, but it is so true. I still long for those bangers and mash- both premade. It takes quite the skill, I promise!

He was a fiery one... you knew he loved you for your efforts coming in that day 3 hours early, but still he wouldn't hesitate to lay your feet across the coals for under-seasoning the shepherd's pie base... I think this was kept us all coming back- the fact that the man cared.

The crew? We Were Pirates. Every single one of us had a story, drank like fish and happily engaged in whatever substance abuse came our way. If there wasn't a skull-and -crossbone on someone's t-shirt when you walked into the kitchen, then someone died. Punk Rock blared out of this kitchen, nightly and proudly and our front line behaved more like mosh-pit than synphony orchestra- that's for sure.

Our regulars reveled in this and always included us in thier daily libating. I still remember my favorite fellas- Pakistinians (who owned the liquor store up the street) would feel amissed if I didn't sit down with them, enjoy a game of chess and smoke a shir bidi. At those kind of moments, awash in the dead sun of Florida, one feels somehow ALIVE- somehow, trancendant to thier current state of social caste.

The fraternity of this place was so strong, we would all assemble on Monday nights, staff, guest and whoever else 'with the grapes,' to play our weekly round of poker. Someone always lost thier paycheck, yet they would always be supported throught the next week by the others (most of the time, chef!) This was familly, this was a ship..

Truth be told, I do think...

We Were Pirates

Awesome reading....thanks..

Good story Stephen!!! I especially liked the "you just know" aspect of being a chef. I found out when I was 14. I'm turning 49 in August. A little oriental restaurant in hikes point (across the street from krogers on breckinridge) by the name of Hennie Woo's. Anybody remember that place??? It was on my paper route and I would see the chef out back smoking every day and one day he says "hey boy, you come wash dishes for me after your paper route" OK after about 2 weeks he says "You smart boy, I teach you how to cook". We were cooking in these "huge" old-school woks and the fire, (huh, huh fire is cool) and action was enthralling. Thats when I became a chef. I still abide by one simple lesson he taught me, He says "the food it come in the back door, it got to go out the front door". How true. You gotta love what you do!!! Peace, Tim

Great post Stephen! My parents had restaurants from the 1950s-1960s. I worked (mostly as a bartender) all through much of the 70s. I've never seen any other industry that's as family-ish as the restaurant industry. Every other work environment I've been in is much more detached and impersonal.

Im bumping this to the top...

I truly feel as if these two posts, especially when read together, represent my best work as a writer. Ya know, it's tough to step outside of yourself and read your own stuff objectively, but I swear I teared up at a couple different times proofing this!

Bump! This is the last,sorry!

Boy, I'd really like to see these two threads travel down the queue together- as they were meant to be read. I know it's a weird request, but please don't respond (it sends the thread to the top and screws up the intended flow!)

Now I have to respond to this one too because I didn't read your last post before responding to the other one.

Should keep them in order.

Thanks again!!

Good read Stephen.

We need to get together soon.

nice work