LEO/LHB Industry Standard: In the weeds

[Robin Garr]

Industry Standard: In the weeds
Insider Info For Those Who Dine Out
With Columnist Marsha Lynch

A server glides through a packed dining room, projecting calm serenity and competence. She breezes through the door that separates the dining room from the “engine room.” As it swings shut behind her, she is delivered to the heat, clamor and chaos of the kitchen, and her smile drops away. She exclaims, to everyone and no one in particular, “Oh my god — I just got triple-sat! I’m in the weeds!”

She runs toward the beverage station to pull out a tray of iced teas and waters with lemon. She runs to the pass to beg the cooks for haste in preparing the appetizers she just entered into the computer. She pleads that someone — anyone at all! — visit the wine cellar for her to see if there’s still a bottle of that 2007 Pinot that Table 43 ordered eight minutes ago, and, “Bring it to me! I’ll double-tip you out!”

Tray of tea and water in hand, she pauses at the door and straps that smile back on, and then passes through the portal back into the public space, her serenity slightly askew. Snickers echo from all quarters of the kitchen. “Check out Weeds McGee, there. She’s losing it.”

“The Weeds” is a place no restaurant employee wants to be. Imagine yourself standing in an expanse of weeds. They’re already tall. They’re only going to get taller, fast. When you’re in the weeds, you’re so far behind you can’t even envision yourself catching up; you can’t see over the weeds. But speak it aloud and it can become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

For cooks, the weeds is a little different. Cooks don’t have to switch back and forth from public to private personae, but that can be as much of a curse as a blessing. When the ticket rail is full, and you don’t know what comes next, it can degenerate into a nightmare, and there is no opportunity to even feign serenity.

The Chef barks: “Hey, Sauté — I’m waiting for that *&%#! garnish for this steak that’s dying!” Sauté guy: “Thirty seconds, Chef, I swear on my sainted grandmother!” Chef: “What’s the problem, Sauté — you weeded out over there?” Sauté guy: “No, Chef! No weeds here!” Sometimes the last thing a line cook wants when he’s in the weeds is “help” from anyone. It might take more time to explain how badly behind you are than it would take to get it together yourself.

In “The Making of a Chef” (a book I’d strongly recommend to any foodie), author Michael Ruhlman describes how an instructor at the Culinary Institute of America explained to him the phenomenon of being so busy you’re frantic: “Cause when you’re in the weeds, this clutter starts to build up,” he said, gesturing to the messy, disorganized station of one cook, so buried that he wasn’t pausing to neaten his work area and get his mind in order. “And if they cut you open, that’s what your brain would look like.”

Yep. Full of weeds.

Marsha Lynch has worked at many Louisville independent restaurants including Limestone, Jack Fry’s, Jarfi’s, L&N Wine Bar and Bistro and Café Lou Lou. She is currently a teaching assistant at Sullivan University, her alma mater.

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i always enjoy reading your articles Marsha....nice visual.

Great article, Marsha.

I miss that weeded rush. No other work I have done has given me that kind of adrenaline high. Funny how I thought that I would miss that the least.

Man, I've been in the weeds so often sometimes I thought I'd never get out. And yet....there is this sort of thrill when you start to overtake the weeds and you see the light and the end of the tickets. And then, when you battle back and finish the service, it's like the most empowering thing ever. You totally handled that rush. On the flip side, there is nothing more terrifying than seeing those weeds marching your way and knowing there isn't much you can do to stave them off...

Great piece, Marsha!

i'm a server and BF is a bartender/server. we always say "embrace the weeds." there's nothing you can do but keep on truckin'. do one thing and then go on to the next. keep smiling and hope you haven't forgotten anything. sometimes, everything is under control, until one little thing to throws you straight into the weeds. the bar just poured the last of it's absolut and of course, your table needs a round of absolut martini's. bartender can't leave the bar, so you have to go and find a manager with a key to liquor storage, tell her the bar needs absolut to sell, hope she doesn't forget about it before she has time to go and get the bottle out and run it to the bar, and then wait for your drink because 6 other tickets came in while you were waiting for the vodka to come and now they are working on those drinks. all the while, the table is glaring at you from across the room wondering, "why is she just standing there at the bar like that? where's my martini?" your other tables need salads, refills, food boxed, checks presented, and dessert orders placed! agh, nightmare! why couldn't they have ordered grey goose?! sometimes the little devil that sits on my shoulder whispers to me, she says "tell them to just pour smirnoff and call it absolut..." but i don't. i wait for the absolut, and embrace the weeds.

thanks marsha, cool article.

Thanks everyone! I've been thinking about this a lot lately, because our skills classes all had to cook a three-course meal (one plate of each course) for their final. So many of them got so flustered, and I could look across the room and tell whose station was whose. The messy, cluttered ones matched the frantic cooks. I've always loved that quote from Ruhlman's book about your brain looking like your station.

In a restaurant situation, though, it takes a lot of fortitude to ignore the screams and pleas and demands and just take a minute and get yourself together - but it works!

Outstanding.

I never knew if being in the weeds meant I was slow, servers holding tickets, or someone just didn't like my station for the night. Then, I decided, every night consisted of these things and I should not stop to think about it or I'll far further back. If one truly knows what it's like to be in the weeds , there's an exhilaration and crazed looked in your eyes until the last plate is done. Then you'll have an almost Zen-like moment of clarity after your order goes out the door; before looking down to cry at the absolute mess you've made of your work station.

I was always amazed the same feeling occurs , not only in life , but in a 6 x 6 station.

Marsha, isn't this one of those, "I wish I had 10,000 words to write this" kind of stories? As always, it was fantastic, but I wish there was room for more. As I told you on Facebook, and specifically that VERY day that you posted something about this, I had a server nightmare just the night before. I have a weird work dream just about every night, but nothing like the server stuff. I have them often, and I'm sure I would some variation of it in any profession that lasted 10+ yrs, but man all mighty, being in the weeds is wild. People have to wonder, "why would a person with other choices choose this?" and my answer would always be, "because the checks are all settled by the end of the shift".

Love your vivid descriptions, feels like I'm there!

I always loved to respond when asked: "hey man... how you doing? you alright over there? you weeded?"

...with the response:
"No man. I'm in the f-ing jungle over here!"


Services where you're so buried in the weeds you can't see out; and you trudge on and overcome it... Well, those who've been there know how much better that post work cocktail/beer/wine is.
Or coming home and just falling into the couch for that matter.


Great read as usual Marsha.

Thanks, guys! The post-rush endorphin flood is definitely something I miss once in a while.

Jackie, you're right; I could have gone on and on. But that's what editors are for!

[Robin Garr]

Jackie, you're right; I could have gone on and on. But that's what editors are for!

You rang?