over the course of my restaurant career, i've had the curious experience, *some* might say privilege, of working for 3 chefs who have won the james beard award, and i'm currently working for another who is deservedly well on his way to earning that medal. having been drafted to work many special events, i've had episodic relations with at least 25 other winners. rareified air indeed, i suppose. the beard award is essentially considered the pulitzer for those in a toque--the american penultimate recognition of culinary achievement-- and it's always preceded and followed by countless other plaques and honors. make no mistake, these people all are incredibly talented.first let's frame this by understanding these people all were drawn to knives and stoves long before there was a tv food network. food wasn't trendy, nobody knew (or cared about) the name of the guy who cooked your steak, where the clams were dug, or what the cows ate. "american cuisine" had not yet been born. green bean casserole, anybody? men, and certainly pre-pubescent boys, didn't know a quenelle from a quiche. there was no *next big thing*, because there was no *big thing*, from which to start. arugula? HELLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOO!!
yet these guys (male pronouns now for simplicity's sake) somehow knew their calling while freakishly young. at tender ages they talked their ways into elite kitchens all over the world. is this where the break happened? like phenoms in any other arena, they sacrificed normal socialization for their passion. i've not met him, but somebody convince me tiger woods, who had golf clubs in his hands before kindergarten, is an engaging conversationalist?
i've worked with julia child, the most gentle of women, who would never call herself a chef. she brought french cuisine and technique to america, and many consider her the godmother of genuises like alice waters and lydia shire. well into her 80s she could tuck into a 12-course tasting menu with matching wines. i've witnessed other patrons in the room literally break into tears merely from being in her presence. that's how loved she was. i never once heard a harsh word from her lips. (no doubt they fell someplace; she didn't become the american ambassador of food by being a patsy. i guess she chose her moments judiciously.)
on the flip side, i was nearly brought to tears by a barrage of offensively filthy language from a beard winner. we did not carry the particular spirit he desired, and when i offered alternatives, he exploded. i was a "stupid girl" and a "philistine" and "this place (a 4-star joint owned and operated by another beard winner) is a toilet!!" he literally was spitting in my face. drew nierporent, beard winner and genius nyc restauranteur (and my hero that night), along with susan spicer, and one of the "two hot tamales" (blonde...) rescued me from that overstuffed gallic ogre.
grueling and peculiar hours, drinking, drugs and sycophants take their toll. a certain and bizarre amount of energy must be spent on self-promotion. by nature and necessity, they are driven focused perfectionists. were these people always warped weirdos? or did the business morph them somehow?
- no matter how many hours you work, they work harder and more.
- they have a huge issue with eye contact.
- they lack social skills. a few cocktails may warm them up, but only in a strange way. they still must remain the center of attention.
- they cannot offer affirmation because it somehow diminishes their due.
- they cannot give credit for ideas hatched or grafted from elsewhere--see above^^
- no matter what, they were doing "it" before anybody else.
- they are a better cook than anybody else. ever.
- when dining out, they usually eat for free, by virtue of their fame. they have no concerns about keeping the place open till well past closing, and often "forget" to tip the server.
- they think everybody except for themselves is an utter jackass.
- they cannot be told no. "that size plate does not exist in our line." "make it." it gets made with the sweat and tears of many japanese artisans. "forget it. i've changed ideas."
- they are convinced everyone who works for them is stealing them blind. even those they've paid for 20 years.
- they cannot say "goodnight, i'm going home," because somehow, if you "know" they've gone everything will immediately go to shit.
- they will erupt into volcanic fits of rage and never apologize. OR they will subject you to stony silence, and you have no idea why. but often are glad they can't be bothered with you.
- in their employ, you are now a personal minion. b.o.h, you may well be drafted to work a christening or wedding without extra compensation. f.o.h, you will stay, wait table, mix and serve drinks till they and their buddies all pass out. you might be sent to chinatown at 3:00 a.m. because the cleaning crew is in the kitchen. your owner will comp all those checks, and none of his friends will tip you either.
i love my business, and i'm good at it. i'm nice to my staff and i'm congenial to the guests. even the dumbasses. i learned long ago you catch more bees with honey.
i've met many people who are extraordinarily successful in lots of fields. pro athletes. musicians. actors. writers and artists. mayors, governors, senators. captains of industry. do they all behave like monsters when they're on the clock or did i long ago serendipitously find an outlet for my masochism?
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