Hearts

Shortbread hearts with chocolate glaze


President's Day weekend, usually one of the slowest times at the restaurant, turned out to be one of the busiest weekends we've had in a long time. The reason, of course, is that it coincided with Valentine's Day.

When I left the restaurant kitchen earlier this evening, things were starting to heat up. Dozens of ticket orders lined up to be filled. Voices were starting to go up. Dirty dishes were piling up in the dish room. The lead cook was already screaming for clean saute pans. Servers and bussers were hustling to and fro.

As I passed through the kitchen door to the dining room, I noticed one of my favorite servers carrying the dessert tray to a table. The lights were dimmed. There was soft music in the background. Couples conversed in low voices. Nobody could hear the noises nor feel the chaos permeating throughout the kitchen, which was how it was supposed to be.

Unless you work in a restaurant, it's difficult to fully appreciate the turmoil that comes with cooking for 500 people in the course of 6 hours. I don't know too many cooks who don't look forward to the clamor and commotion. A decade ago, when I was a line cook, it was almost like a drug. My energy level would hit the ceiling and at the end of the night, I was exhausted beyond comprehension yet I felt alive and satisfied.

Being a baker, I usually don't take part in all the chaos. I leave work as it starts. But then I start work early in the morning, even before the cleaning crew comes, so I just surmise how the rest of the night fared by the ravages my coworkers left behind.