Megan Kathleen

I have a plan! We must infiltrate Ruby Tuesday(the worst servers anywhere in my exp), Red Lobster, Applebees, Friday's & Friendly. All servers pass through these places at one time or another. Get these places to straighten up and the world will follow. ← How 'bout it! I like a good covert-op. (Full disclosure: I, too, worked at Friday's for three weeks several years ago. "Sometimes you have to experience the really bad in order to avoid it" comes to mind.) So many restaurants, such bad service. Eat more, settle for less. Was service better when the tipping norm was fifteen percent? Maybe it provided an incentive to do a better job. Seems a lot of servers think at least 18% is coming their way because these days folks feel guilty stiffing even a bad server. All the manuals, training classes, uniforms, server reviews and tests in the world can't seem to give people pride in their jobs. One would think the microgreens would be micro-greener in local and/or independently-owned restaurants- sometimes it truly is, and one can feel it in the room- but all too often there's abject slacking and/or a "Forget you, because you don't know nothin'" vibe going on. Or the flipside: "How dare you, you snob/pretentious jerk! Making me work. The nerve!" It's well-documented; this thread is a great collection of evidence. The revolution will be served sans 'tude and fakery, at the chef's preferred temperature!

All of the above are worthy comments, and the incidents that prompt them happen with alarming frequency. Given the state of service, it's a wonder people go out to eat at all. At risk of sounding fuddy-duddy, my favorite manifestation of the absence of professionalism that I see to be the root of the behaviors described in this thread: -An unkempt, obviously hung-over server. One of the fun things about working in the front of the house is letting one's hair down post-shift, cutting up with one's buddies after work. There can be a lot of steam that needs to be blown off after an intense night of service. That's great, and I don't want to discourage camaraderie. I like to drink, too. All I ask when I come in as a guest (or a coworker!) is not to know about it. The "chef's liver" principle: don't suck anything down that you're not prepared to suck up tomorrow. Amateurs. Coming in looking like crap at 3:30pm is lame, as is being cranky-BS during the night's service. It all has an obvious negative effect on tipping; it can readily compromise the reputation of the kitchen and more. Central question: Why should one tip you if you're going to go piss it away at the local and throw it in my face with your irritability and erratic, undependable service the next day? I know it's hip to have a bedhead or something, but please, please at least rinse off between the bar and work. And get a coffee and a Gatorade. Smoke a cigarette and think about getting your groove back. It's just drinking. You'll be fine. (End diatribe.) The thing about complaining about service is that it begets more things to complain about in service. After a while, it starts to look like a Sisyphean task to do a half-decent job and not piss anyone off. Many people work harder than this in the business, and it's pitiful that they're set back by this self-indulgent prima-donna nonsense. It may not be the insidious norm quite yet, but I feel that a little bit sure is going a long way. I sure can complain about it, but really I wish I knew how to reverse the trend.

The business- it's full of folks who take a broad, interdisciplinary view of things, who have a lot of natural curiosity and ambition, and who come from wildly diverse backgrounds. Maybe it's because they're definitely not in it for the money or the gold-plated health plan! All I can say is it's a happy home for me- abundant intellectual stimulation, exposure to interesting people who often have wonderful, colorful stories to tell, honesty to the point of bluntness, good humor and camaraderie, all of that. Though I'm a big ol' egghead, I don't have the proper temperament for making a success of myself on the academic scene. I found that out the hard way, and it was as close as I've yet come to "selling out." When you're in class and thinking about how excited you are about going to the restaurant at 3:30, what the specials are going to be, you start to wonder what you're paying $900 a credit hour for. I try to avoid measuring my own intelligence, let alone that of others, as a rule, but if it must be done, perhaps a better criterion than what-all the academic paper trail says is whether I can look myself in the eye and say I am proud for devoting my life and my love to the thing that really moves me. Over the years, I've come to thinking that the only objectively dumb people in the business are the ones who waste their time therein, who don't pay attention or take direction, who don't try to learn something (about themselves, about others, about the world) while they're there. These are the ones who have a tendency to embarrass themselves and who often grow bitter and angry. They might just be better off "selling out." What Bourdain says about the kitchen being the last meritocracy stands to reason.

Isa Chandra Moskowitz has a great (and convincing, and totally simple) tempeh bacon recipe in her recent Vegan With A Vengeance cookbook. I'm pretty sure she has a web presence as well, though I'm not sure where. If you're interested, I'll look up the recipe at home and post it tomorrow.

There's an extra featuring this on the Spanglish DVD, to boot.

As a professional server, I say if you can't do it slow, you shouldn't try to do it fast. A positive externality of a slow night in a restaurant is more time to devote to sidework, sure, but the guest comes first and there is no room for conflict of interest there. Though it can be awkward when there are more staff than guests in a dining room, it's our job to make everyone feel comfortable and welcome at all times. (The old saw about anticipation comes to mind. Why "guess" when to visit a table?) There's a lot of gray area between standing/leaning around, polishing listlessly, staring off into space for want of Something To Do and being so far into the weeds that you can either go out there and try some triage or hide in the waitstation and cry. I say why not explore that? Slow nights are a good time to learn how to access the chill vibe that will keep you sane during the busy nights. The protracted decline of service saddens me.

What's up with those fresh chickens from Meadow Run? I got one last week to give to Leslie, my office mate. It had a Meadow Run label on it, though as I said in an earlier post, there was an accompanying explanation that I unfortunately zoned out on due to insufficient caffeination. Their frozen ones have never disappointed me- yes, shilling for Philip is one of my favorite pastimes- in fact, it's some of the best chicken I've ever had. Moreover, I trust my buddy to cook a chicken properly, and she said the fresh one came out dry and flavorless. Though it goes to good places, of course, I'm not trying to spend $11 to $13 on one just to find out for myself. Interesting question about it maybe being a bad spring for chickens somehow. I'm trying to do a little research into that from work, here. Agreed that the baby arugula (It's from Farmdale Organics, right?) is awesome. I threw that in a tofu scramble with some mushrooms from Iovine's the other day. I so miss Oley Valley when they're gone. Is anyone else into the Overbrook Herb Farms salad mix? It's not always around, but it's just so good to me. Dry and spicy and pretty and delicious.

Among other explanations, 86 = eight feet out and six feet under. (The coffee isn't working yet.)

Henry and I saw it yesterday afternoon. I absolutely loved it. The kitchen was so beautiful I started to cry. Sure, the rats in the kitchen required suspending disbelief, but the setting felt to me like having a dream about a perfect restaurant. Everything, from the bread to the tickets on the board, the walk-in, the way the cooks moved in the kitchen, making the soup (I was bummed that Remy didn't make a bouquet garni), to the little bridge Remy had so he could see into the dining room from in the end. So sweet. I had such high expectations- "For once, I am the target demographic!"- going in that I couldn't rule out the possibility of leaving royally disappointed! Au contraire. Glad I was in a good enough mood that the mean critic's change of heart didn't seem cloying. And that's about the worst thing I can say about it. The family story was well-handled, what with the "choosing between two halves of myself" idea; I'm sure I'm not the only one who can relate to that. Being a total geek, I found myself picking out ideas that I felt came straight from Keller's cookbooks as well as references to great chefs of the past (Fernand Point, et al.). Did anyone else catch all of that? (We, too, stayed until the very end to check out the names and the locations that were in the credits.) I may be overreaching here, but I can't help but wonder if Linguini's being red-haired and lanky with freckles was mere coincidence, or meant to bring Grant Achatz to mind.

Oh, come on! I endeavor to dine at Pif for my birthday this coming month. Henry and I are just two among what I'm sure are many secret admirers, having walked by and looked at the menu (and in the window!) so many times- it's a post-Plaza Garibaldi ritual at this point- and we've been waiting for the right special occasion to go! I'm so inspired by what they do there. What a rad little restaurant. Say it ain't so!

I so love frozen grapes. Mmmmmmm. Ever tried sugary iced tea (from the powdered mix, preferably Our Own, Tetley or 4C brands) in place of milk in cereal? I did this a lot when I was a young one. As far as the odd thing I do with my food: I switch hands. With the silverware. I don't know why I do this. I don't remember ever NOT doing it, and I don't have a readily accessible memory of the first time I tried it, either. To some who have grown close enough to me to feel comfortable pointing it out, it's "the weirdest thing!" I'll have my fork in my left, knife in my right, then I'll switch and eat the other way for a little while, then switch back. It's involuntary at this point. Each effort I make to override/unlearn this deep-seated habit, I abandon straightaway. The only plausible explanation, to me, is that it's a vestige from my childhood as a picky eater. An adaptive behavior that made me LOOK like I'm eating. And now I can't stop it. (At least I've learned to love food.)

Brushed with pesto and grilled in the husk (silk removed first, of course), then in Simon's "matrix" method.

I just started Lessons in Service from Charlie Trotter, by Edmund Lawler (Ten Speed Press, 2001). Too early in to say too much, but so far, so good. Ruhlman's "Chef" series is great. Each of those books made unique and important impressions on me. His "Wooden Boats" is likewise good creative non-fiction; a little heavy on the jargon, but maybe I think that because I'm more comfortable with the food world than I am with that of shipbuilding! I recently reread The Perfectionist: Life and Death in Haute Cuisine by Rudolph Chelminski. When it came out (Gotham, 2005), I read it in less than two days. Bernard Loiseau's is a sad but somehow understandable story. It gave me a whole new perspective on the business and the demands it makes of the people who live it.

The most I've ever spent was $140 (all-inclusive, with a goodly tip for a consummate professional) at Bouchon in Las Vegas when I was there visiting at my family's timeshare. Pernod, two glasses of wine, water, salmon rillettes, trout with green beans and almonds, creme brulee, a little tray of subtle, tasty mignardises from the kitchen (very kind of them), coffee, and phenomenal service from Michael. What a treat for a West Philly waitress! I ate there by myself, since my mom, dad, brother and sister unanimously refused to join me. They thought I'd back down if I had to go alone. They did not know the extent of my Keller worship, and now they do. They were generous in hearing me go on and on about it when we regrouped. (They had eaten at the Nascar Cafe.) I brought my notebook, of course. I wrote about everything! I was so blissed-out in my little corner, watching all the people having such a great time, making drawings of dishes as they came out, impressed at how the room could be so mesmerizingly alive and the staff so laid-back yet professional. I aspire to such excellence for a living, but not until I went out to eat for what was My First Real Fancy Meal did I realize how much the hard work that goes into crafting a chill vibe can show! It made me feel awesome. I didn't want to leave! Someday, I want to go to the French Laundry, too, among so many others. Until then, I'll keep living in my cookbooks and daydreaming. Keep the stories coming!

Bob, as a retired vegan, I can tell you my former issues about pork (and goat, for the record) consumption had more to do with health and economics than religious concerns! Good news is: the net result of all the years I spent orienting my food philosophy around abstinence is creativity and a sense of adventure in the kitchen! And that is a fantastic picture of Sam. He's such an inspiration! Going out to eat sounds good, Katie! Now that I'm on desk duty at (full disclosure!) Audrey Claire and Twenty Manning after years on the floor (and a tenure in the kitchen) at the former, I've got most evenings free. I'm still psyched about routinely eating my own cooking again, but I can certainly make time for grubbing with my fellow enthusiasts. MarketStEl, PREACH IT! We should all be so positive. Thank you. My Saturday market itinerary (following Clark Park) is Livengood's and Nanee's Kitchen, without scowling or tears. I get around on an econo gray roadbike with a touring setup. Hot peppers on the grips! See you there! True story about the aforementioned fresh chickens at the Farmstand. I bought one this morning. They come from the venerable Philip Landis of Meadow Run Farm, who also has lamb organs available in what look like individual serving bags! Lace 'em with lardons, mix 'em up with lentils... a little bit of OK Lee's superior frisee... yum yum! Emily said something about Eberly being in the mix when it comes to getting fresh chickens from small producers like Philip to us local consumers; I was too spaced-out from lack of coffee (not local) to really be paying attention, unfortunately. I'll have to ask her again. Another Farmstand favorite of mine is the tofu from Fresh Tofu, Inc. in Allentown. I find it to be superior in quality and pedigree to pretty much anything else on the market. It's soy the way it should be. They've got some that expires today, and another shipment in. Grab some!

Thanks, Andrew! It's good to be here. As far as being made of pure evil, that may well be a prerequisite for success (or at least long-term survival) in the restaurant business. The secret, to me, is not to let civilians in on my dark identity! Among other things, pure evil means I'm not at all sorry for the meat of the cloven hoof I consume so regularly and with such gusto. Pow! The snapper I mentioned was neither alive nor cooked. He brought the meat to me, already broken down for my enjoyment. I've got pretty good knife skills, but I'm not sure I'm ready to take on something that prehistoric-looking. I ended up turning it into an old Pennsylvania recipe for a rustic, yummy soup with potatoes and the like. I am so sorry I missed the live one at the market. That must have been out of control! Sam is so cool. I made paw paw pudding for my friends. It ruled. Though I lost some material to them, my dogs liked chewing the many, many pits clean.

Well, this seems as good as any as a forum for my inaugural eGullet post! It's about time my serial lurking came to an end. I'd like to say hello to everyone and let you all know how rad I think eGullet is. What a treasure- a community of positive, enthusiastic, down-to-earth folks who love everything to do with the world of food. Why, oh why, have I been so shy? I, too, love the Market. (And cherries.) Over the years, I, too, have found John Yi to be the most consistently reliable fishmonger in the RTM; though their prices tend to be higher than others, I've never been dissatisfied with anything they've sold me. Sensory overload aside, what I love most about the Market is how much of a real cool club it is. Working in the restaurant business predisposes me to seeking out relationships with the people I buy my food from, and I find the climate in the Market to be so friendly and convivial. I've learned at least as much about myself as a food lover in the world from being there as I have from my professional experience. (Of course, I have those days when I'm not exactly wandering aimlessly, and I'm thinking, "I wish these people would stop blocking the box with their cheesesteaks and jumbo Cokes and just get out of my way so I can get my slab bacon and quail eggs and frisee and.. and.. and.. and..." How do you all cope with that? I apologize if this has been addressed previously.) The whole Livengood operation is amazing. I once got a whole big stalk of Brussels sprouts from them once that had lost a few to cattle. Teeth marks and everything! I biked home with it sticking out of my bag. Livengood friend and neighbor Sam Consylman (some may have seen the story about him in the Inquirer) brought me some snapping turtle to eat as well as a whole lot of paw paws, following one discussion we'd had about acquainting oneself with wild, indigenous foods. My kind of people! And please keep the cherries discussion going, everybody, as I might just have to torment my boyfriend by turning on the oven tonight. (The soup is a potential compromise, of course. Thanks!)