Pleasant House

I’ll cut to the chase. I wasn’t asked back.

Well, not directly, anyway. As the chef darted out in a hurry, I was hunched over my toolkit in the corner, largely out of view. Part of me wanted to pop up and approach him, as he had done to me at the end of my previous two stages, to confirm that I would be returning the following week. But I hesitated.

This restaurant offered the potential for learning, and the validation of being asked back had been an ego boost during this fledgling stage of my career. I was gaining confidence with simple triumphs, like choosing the right container or completing a task quicker than expected.

Still, it just didn’t feel right.

The sous chef wanted to know if they’d see me again. “We could always find something for you to do,” he offered. “Just call us when you’re available.”

I thought about this for a minute. Truth was, it was time to move on, to keep pushing myself toward the ideal restaurant experience. More than a one-off stage, I’m looking for an environment where I will be challenged, engaged, and encouraged. Above all, I’m looking for a restaurant where the chef and I share the same food philosophy, and where camaraderie is pervasive. I could stay, I would learn, but it would be too convenient and safe.

I realize that turning down any opportunity, especially in such a competitive field, could be viewed as self-entitlement. I still have so much to learn; why should I expect to do more than make chocolate-chip cookies? (To be fair, I was also asked to make coconut cookies and madelines.) Why should I want to be asked to share my opinion, and why should the environment be anything other than a frenzied, stereotypical boys’ club? In my day-to-day job, I have been frustrated by coworkers with far less experience than me who have balked at doing less-glamorous tasks or getting their hands dirty. Why should I expect more?

tasty mistake

I have decided that there is a difference between self-entitlement and entitlement. With the former, someone feels she is owed something, often with very little effort required; the latter keeps the ego in check while searching for, and earning, every opportunity to be the best–and then achieving it.

I know where my heart is, and it’s emblazoned with a big, red “H”–for humble. My head is also in the right place. While I welcome every chance to do even the most basic task repeatedly until I master it, I also want, deserve, and expect to be challenged and to grow. While I likely will not be back to this specific restaurant, I can take pride in knowing that I could return, because I earned it, but that I instead choose to push myself to do more. I’m ready as ever to get my hands really dirty–and to have something to show for it.

06/13/09

With growing efficiency, I whipped through a series of recipes. I also did a variety of basic tasks, like rolling dough and filling tart shells, finding comfort in the repetition and a strange sense of inner competitiveness and pride in doing the next one better than the last. I really do love learning, and every movement is a new lesson. Now I need to be challenged and to feel the energy of a team.

Staff meal: On offer was a mysterious meat-filled ravioli, sans salad mix, the only evidence of which were a few stray leaves in the lettuces container; instead, I ate two plated desserts that the girls on the line deemed not-quite-perfect for customers. Lucky for me!

1. Let them eat (their own) cake.

No matter how elaborate or delicious your creations may be, some people will still want to bring lame cakes to your restaurant for their birthday. Stop trying to understand them; they don’t understand you.

2. Know your second move…

Before you finish the first. You won’t find yourself running for cover after the ball has already dropped.

3. It’s the simple pleasures.

No matter how many exotic ingredients you use or how inventive your staff may be, you will inevitably turn more heads in the kitchen when you make chocolate-chip cookies.