Routine

I'm not gonna lie. I'm kind of stumped. Kind of blocked. Intellectually constipated.

It's been two weeks since I've posted anything and all I have to show for it are 3 half-finished posts I find unsatisfactory. I'm not necessarily an anal-retentive perfectionist with my writing (though with some things I am, and these things include the cleanliness of my room and my stove burners). I think these are 3 potentially good topics to talk about. Sustainable seafood, my ascension in the ranks to chef de tournant, an analogy of music and cooking. But for some reason they are fleshed out poorly, and I think I have the banality of a post-college lifestyle to blame.

It is said that the human perception of time accelerates as you age. This is due to the fact that there are less major changes to your overall conception of a year, less changes to your daily routine. And routine is exactly what work is all about. Doing the same damn thing over and over again. What we doin'? Makin' money, what chu doin'? Makin' money.

But that's a part of current human society, it's unavoidable and not necessarily unwelcome (how many negatives?). Some people really like routine and enjoy having a stable rhythm dictate peace throughout their lives. Others prefer to throw off the saddle that a domestic lifestyle can bring, others constantly seek to break the reins. Now the last sentence aside I consider myself something in the middle. I don't enjoy a vagabond lifestyle without structure, but I am easily bored as well. I think this is why cooking is such a good fit for me. It is an intuitive balance between routine and growth that can keep my attention long enough to promote a good pace for improvement (does that sentence even make sense?).

Let me simplify. Cooking is actually completely about routine. Doing something so much, so often, so accurately that eventually after years, maybe a lifetime, you attain mastery. Excluding the rarest, most prodigious talents the human race has to offer, it takes decades to truly "master" something. So you would think the monotony of cutting mushrooms, of cleaning shrimp, of blanching tomatoes would be unable to entrance someone who gets distracted by the Victoria's Secret billboards downtown to the point he wanders 9 blocks off course. Not that that's ever happened. (I thought I was walking east, alright? Turns out it was south). Moving on...

But in fact all those rote mechanics, all that monotonous work actually intrigues me. A cook's life is all about speed. How fast can you learn, how fast can you cook, how fast can you achieve success before the lifestyle breaks you? So every time I clean a shrimp, every time I cut a mushroom I try to do it faster and better than the last time. The never ending quest for robotic perfection in the mechanics of cooking actually fuels me every day in the kitchen (we can't all be like you, Christopher Schro-bot).

But I am human. I am fallible. I am prone to break down upon my own ethos. There is such a thing as comfort and humans enjoy it above almost everything. And I fear I am reaching a comfortable point.

I am generally doing very well on pasta station. I haven't had a complaint about undercooked ravioli or underseasoned sauces for weeks. My chef has stopped making fun of me for being slow, and yelling at me to hurry up on Saturday night. I have earned a degree of respect on that station (saute, grill ... not so much, but that's another story). I work saute and grill once a week and am improving at a noticeable rate, but not an impressive rate. I feel I have gotten complacent and it is slowing down that constant alertness, that cutting edge focus that I was once used to harnessing. The routine of the daily working life is dragging me down despite the everyday challenges of the kitchen.

So that's where the other part of the equation comes in. As a cook you can focus on improvement everyday, use the everyday mechanics as a means of interest and personal betterment. It can keep your attention, fuel your drive. But eventually some people slow down, lose sight of the goal. I don't know what it is. An existential crisis? The natural complacency that confidence (and then overconfidence) can bring?

There are two rules of three I like to adhere life to. One by Malcolm Gladwell and one by Elvis Presley.

Malcolm Gladwell has a rule of three for job satisfaction. You need,

1) Autonomy - meaning you have some control over what you do, you are not a peon who is being slave-driven.

2) Complexity - something that doesn't numb your brain in to submission with it's monotony or simplicity

3) Connection Between Effort and Reward - seeing results from your hard work

Now working in a kitchen satisfies a lot of these criteria for me. Granted, I have close to zero autonomy right now because I am a minor peon in the Va Pensiero kitchen. Sometimes when I'm feeling rebellious I make chicken stock my way by starting with cold water, adding aromatics late in to the process and using a bouquet garni and making sure it never boils. Taste it, Chef. But eventually the goal is to ascend to the rank of sous chef somewhere, then maybe executive chef, until finally I am ready to own my own restaurant and call all the shots. To build an empire of my own is a foreseeable goal and any minor assertions of my independence can satisfy me until I can reach that point.

Aaaand complexity. Seeing as how much of a novice I can be at cooking, complexity and being challenged daily are not an issue. Before I said I was getting comfortable, not that it was becoming easy. I work a Friday night well because I'm on my toes every second until we get the "all in" call to denote we are done. Everyday is an exercise in efficiency. There's no such thing as too much free time. It's the way I imagine a runner would feel as they shave seconds off their mile time from week to week. Everyday just before employee meal if I can take the time to have coffee and a cigarette, then I have succeeded in managing my time well. But sometimes, and often times, I will have a very quick coffee and a cigarette and FREAK THE FUCK OUT that I'm going to run short of something during service. You learn and get better, or at least you hope, every day.

The connection between effort and results is an easy thing for cooks to see. Well, kind of. But it is what drew me to the profession in the first place. Every plate you put out can be perfect, but only the best can produce that every time on command. Sometimes I know things aren't right. The plate is dirty, the ravioli might only be 98% cooked, there's a slightly overcooked edge on the salmon. You have 15 other orders to take care of, you regret it inwardly, but alas mistakes happen and you can't fix them then and there. But there is such a thing as "the zone" for cooks. Some nights, and thankfully they are becoming more frequent, every plate I put out looks good, some look perfect. I know the seasoning is on point, the balance between sharp parmigiano-reggiano and luscious emulsified butter is perfect, the plate is clean, the pasta is a beautiful mountain of silken starchiness sitting reflected in a sheen of reduced chicken stock (What up, similes). When you prepare every component to a dish, when that took you hours of work and focus, and when you're crushed in the middle of an 8:00 dinner rush and you put out a perfect plate of onion pasta? THAT'S a fucking sense of accomplishment. Nothing gets me more jacked up when I put up a hot plate in the window that I know someone is really going to enjoy, and then I get to working on the next thing to make it that much better. Well almost nothing...

Again there is a foreseeable goal in the future. Cooks never get to see when guests are really enjoying something. Generally they only see when they hate something. A plate gets sent back, your whole dish gets shoveled in the garbage, a bloody piece of meat is staring you in the face because it's way undercooked, your chef is yelling at you to fix it, you dumbass. But as a chef, a restaurateur you get to go out there and talk to people, see the smiles on their faces, the pure enjoyment they are having from food your staff is putting out. That is something to definitely look forward to. That is a dream worth having for me.

So there is job satisfaction to be had, so why all the existential crises?

Maybe it has to do with Elvis' rule of three, which is far more simple and something that really boils life down to its basics. What do you need in this life?

"I believe the key to happiness is: someone to love, something to do, and something to look forward to."

Maybe I've lost sight of that as spring shines on Chicago, and I'm stuck in a kitchen. Maybe I'm starting to realize that I've barely begun to sacrifice for my career, and the biggest sacrifices are yet to come. Maybe I'm scared that I don't have what it takes.

Greatness is a matter of ambition. I think personal ability makes it easier, sets you apart for a little while, but in the end what separates the cream from the milk is the passion, the desire. Journalism, business, science, whatever the hell you want to do in life, but especially cooking. Everybody can cook, it's not like there's some kid out there who is the next Lebron James of the kitchen. Everybody can understand the tenets of food and the intricacies of the restaurant biz. It's all about how bad you want it. It's inspiring because that means there is no ceiling except the one you build for yourself.

But many do indeed build a ceiling for themselves. This is not an easy lifestyle. Maybe you can find a balance, but many sacrifice friends, families, relationships along the way, and at some point they say "Stop, I can't sacrifice anymore." They accept and are hopefully content with what peak they could reach, and then they try to work it out from there.

I've never been an exceptionally hard working person and I admit that to my chagrin. I have underachieved all throughout life and I blame it in retrospect on having not found my true calling in life. I never was going to be a 9-5 person I tell myself, I never was actually going to be a cellist even if I could have, I tell myself. I've concluded that it's possible this is a positive quality I have, a stubbornness to do nothing but what is right for me, and a passion ignited when set to the right flame. But is that really so? Sure, I go to work everyday, I enjoy it, but something about this routine bothers me. Bothers me to the point that I've actually written a Jiwon-esque emo-rant about it in public (Sorry buddy, you know it's true).

So maybe it's time for a change. I love Va Pensiero, I've come to love the cooks, the chef, the staff, the opportunities it is giving me. But maybe what I really need is an injection of something new, something substantial to give me back the edge, give me another glimpse of the dream.

Maybe it's time to end this scatterbrained post, because I feel a lot better. Maybe it's time to put up or shut up. Anyway, my time at Va Pensiero is limited. My unofficial contract is nearing it's end. I should enjoy it while it lasts because another unknown reality looms on the horizon.

Someone to love ... hmmmm. Something to do .... okay. Something to look forward to ... let's go.

EP6