A Fond Farewell OR The Night of Optical Gonorrhea
On the subject of culinary interns, the few that i have know couldn't hold down a station worth a shit. Most times an un-educated latino dishwasher can do a better job. They often have a "holier than thou" additude to them that assures thier utter failure as a cook and a human being. This however cannot be said about F.Scott's last intern, Grant.
Grant came green out of CIA and made his bones the week of his arrival. It's mothers day brunch... or was it easter brunch. I forget it's the one where all the yuppies come out in their sunday bests and torture us with their substitutions and special orders.
At any rate it's brunch and the Nashville elite are lined up out the door and around the corner ready to eat steak and eggs and drink mimosas.
During the four hours of balls to the walls service of slinging hash...i'm ashamed to say we were shoemakers that day. (We had no choice, but that's a story for another day.) Our FNG Grant held his station without getting in the weeds.
His performance under extreme duress earned him my respect and the respect of the rest of the kitchen. Except for some snaggled toothed bitch who will remain nameless and hopefully unemployed.
Sadly, all good things come to an end. Grant's time with us was up, but before he left we made sure show him a good time. To try and make good on all the towel snaps, monkey punches, dead legs and general verbal abuse he recieved. All of which is just the good natured fun you find in a kitchen riddled with testosterone.
I think the total damage to our wallets and livers was somewhere around $1400... that doesn't include all the free shots we got from Eric a.k.a. "Peanut" over at the Treehouse.
Grant spent his entire paycheck, for which i will never forgive him.
After bar hopping and haggling strippers for blowjobs. (don't worry, it was for Grant) We closed down the strip club and stumbled home at 6.
Three sheets to the wind and stumbling over bus stops we reminisced of times long passed dreams of the future.
I can't speak highly enough of Grant he's going to be a kick ass chef some day. Anyone in the industry would be wise to steal him while they can.
Cooks Rule!
heterosexually yours,
SDL
On the subject of culinary interns, the few that i have know couldn't hold down a station worth a shit. Most times an un-educated latino dishwasher can do a better job. They often have a "holier than thou" additude to them that assures thier utter failure as a cook and a human being. This however cannot be said about F.Scott's last intern, Grant.
Grant came green out of CIA and made his bones the week of his arrival. It's mothers day brunch... or was it easter brunch. I forget it's the one where all the yuppies come out in their sunday bests and torture us with their substitutions and special orders.
At any rate it's brunch and the Nashville elite are lined up out the door and around the corner ready to eat steak and eggs and drink mimosas.
During the four hours of balls to the walls service of slinging hash...i'm ashamed to say we were shoemakers that day. (We had no choice, but that's a story for another day.) Our FNG Grant held his station without getting in the weeds.
His performance under extreme duress earned him my respect and the respect of the rest of the kitchen. Except for some snaggled toothed bitch who will remain nameless and hopefully unemployed.
Sadly, all good things come to an end. Grant's time with us was up, but before he left we made sure show him a good time. To try and make good on all the towel snaps, monkey punches, dead legs and general verbal abuse he recieved. All of which is just the good natured fun you find in a kitchen riddled with testosterone.
I think the total damage to our wallets and livers was somewhere around $1400... that doesn't include all the free shots we got from Eric a.k.a. "Peanut" over at the Treehouse.
Grant spent his entire paycheck, for which i will never forgive him.
After bar hopping and haggling strippers for blowjobs. (don't worry, it was for Grant) We closed down the strip club and stumbled home at 6.
Three sheets to the wind and stumbling over bus stops we reminisced of times long passed dreams of the future.
I can't speak highly enough of Grant he's going to be a kick ass chef some day. Anyone in the industry would be wise to steal him while they can.
Cooks Rule!
heterosexually yours,
SDL