It’s All in the Prep

If you’ve ever wondered what it would be like to be a restaurant chef (and who hasn’t?) I can almost guarantee that there are innumerable differences between a commercial kitchen and one you’d find at home that would forever keep you from trying your hand at commercial cooking,

Besides the obvious—the commercial kitchen a glistening array of stainless steel; the home kitchen filled with warm-colored wood cabinets—the restaurant kitchen also has with it a staff of talented performers whose off-line behavior can reach beyond the pale. The small restaurant cannot afford regular drug testing, thereby offering a safe haven for those whose indulgences might not be tolerated by a chain or industrialized food operations found at hospitals, schools and prisons.

I had several employees over the years who were ex-cons. As far as I knew, none of them were violent offenders, although one was a sex offender I fired when one of my kitchen rats was being harassed by him. And only one claimed to have been a prison cook, let alone having learned to cook during his time in stir.

If I had ever needed a reason to not serve time, this guy was it.

Taking a late-afternoon break, I instructed Mr. Convict to create a marinara sauce in my absence. I handed him the detailed recipe, which involved a significant amount of peeling and dicing of carrots, onions and celery to create what is known as sofrito in Italian cuisine. (The French equivalent is mirepoix.) It was a step-by-step process that articulated how I wanted my sauces done.

I returned to the kitchen from my break and was somewhat shocked to find whole carrots, celery stalks and un-cut onions floating around in a stock pot full of tomatoes. A sprig of basil floated lazily in the too-thin sauce. When questioned, he told me that everything would be pureed (it wouldn’t be) so peeling and dicing was a waste of time.

Mr. Convict stewed over the ideas I presented to him that indicated how I was the boss and he wasn’t. He walked out the kitchen door an hour or so later.

There are, I suppose, countless ways to waste time in a kitchen. For the independent restaurant whose focus is more on the food than it is on the spreadsheets, there’s less time to waste. Traditionally short-handed, my restaurant had to be a model of efficiency. Occasionally, like when I had a full complement of line cook, salad and pizza cook, and dishwasher, we approached being that model. More often, we’d be one, sometimes two stations short.

As in most endeavors, careful preparation is key to success. The home cook doesn’t have to prep beyond a single recipe that will be served in a single course. At even as small a restaurant as mine (30 seats) one had to be ready to fill the house once, maybe twice on a weekend evening. And of course we’d have no idea what any of our guests might want to eat. Their choices were multiple: six-to-eight salads and appetizers, eight-to-twelve pastas, half-a-dozen entrees and at least four dessert options. There was also pizza.

I’m sure some math whiz could tell me the possible combinations of menu items we offered. I just knew how to manage my inventories and how much of what I needed each day to be ready for service. Admittedly, a lot of it was instinctive.

My day began before seven every morning. We baked all of our own breads and within minutes after my arrival to the kitchen, the air smelled of yeast and flour. To the accompaniment of NPR news, I would begin prepping the sofrito that would become the flavor base of almost everything I made. It was a methodical process that I truly enjoyed.

One day, a sales rep and a manufacturer’s rep paid me an early morning visit. I was dicing onions from a box full of fresh produce that had been delivered that morning. The twosome, representing the largest food service company in the states, came in and one tossed a plastic bag full of diced onions on top of my cutting board. My onions scattered, while his remained safe inside the bag.

That kind of behavior does not sit well with me, and I told him so in a loud voice with at least one obscenity.

His product was pre-cut sofrito—each of the three ingredients in 10-pound bags. Each bag had a shelf life of 21 days.

My arguments against purchasing such products began with my liking to purchase whole product I could smell and squeeze and ended with wondering how this product was treated to attain that quite remarkable shelf life. I knew that those vegetables—peeled and chopped—would become iffy in just two or three days.

Also, I really like prepping sofrito. There’s something satisfying in the physical activity, and I enjoy the smell of the onions.

I wondered aloud what I would do with my time if not doing the basic work of a chef.

“Sit back, sleep in, relax,” the rep said, obviously missing my point.

What a waste of time.

Photo illustration by Courtney A. Liska

Marinara Sauce

Nothing is more comforting than a bowl of al dente pasta with a clean and simple marinara sauce. It’s long been a staple in my house as well as my restaurant. Buon appetito!

Extra virgin olive oil
1 large onion, diced
3 stalks celery, diced
2 small carrots, diced
Salt & pepper
6 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 cup red wine
2 Tbs. dried oregano
2 large bunches fresh basil, chopped
2, 28-oz. cans crushed tomatoes
2, 28-oz. cans diced tomatoes
3-4 dried bay leaves

Heat the oil in a large sauce pan and sauté the onion for 5-6 minutes; add celery and carrots and cook for 2-3 minutes more. Season with salt and pepper. Add garlic & sauté one minute. Add wine and oregano. Mix with tomatoes, basil and bay leaves. Simmer uncovered for at least 45 minutes.