Almost Famous by Jason King

A cook thrives under pressure. The kitchen is fast and hectic. Seconds are minutes, minutes are hours, and so on. A cook must thrive in these conditions, better yet, yearn for it. If they don't, they won't last long.

Most people assume if you work in a kitchen, you are a great and creative cook. Though some good cooks are, all good cooks are masters of chaos. A great grill cook can temp a steak with his eyes. Know it's ready because the timer in his head told him so.

I've known line cooks that can put out 150 dishes in a night. Each one exactly as the chef imagined, when he put it on the menu. That same cook, if left with eggs, heavy cream, sugar, and instructions to make a classic dish, may disappoint. Scrambled eggs topped with whipped cream, rather than creme brûlée could be the result.

A busy kitchen line is more a choreographed dance. Behind you. Oven door. Hot coming down. Sharp knife. Like a square dance call, every cook instinctively reacts. Every odd or seemingly insignificant object is right where that cook wants it.

A cook has a folded linen next to his sauté station for a reason. It takes the excess drip off his spinach before plating. Move that linen any where but there, you fuck up the dance.

Out of these disastrous dance halls come the stars. Most celebrity chefs, were at one time badass cooks. They were creative, dedicated, fast, with an insatiable passion for food. Now, they have millions of dollars, and a line of cookware available at Target stores.

At 24 years old, I wanted it all. I could cook, well. My dance moves were strong. I was a future celebrity chef... In my head.

I arrived at work one afternoon. My chef pulled me in the office to show me a special from an incredible restaurant in California. I was given instruction to recreate this before service. I was on this assignment like no other before.

I was able do put my line setup duties on the shoulder of another cook, while I rounded up the ingredients. I would not just recreate, I would create a dish that restaurant wished they had made. This was the kind of chance a young ambitious cook dreams of. After chef sees what I have created, my own line of potato peelers will be available at Target soon.

Two hours later, I presented my dish. Chef turned the small radio on the line to sports talk radio, and took my dish out toward the lobby. The station's show, it turned out, was being aired in the lobby of our hotel.

Chef tells me to listen. The show's host presents my dish to the star forward of our NBA team.
"One of the chefs prepared this for you..."

He takes a bite. "Hmm, that's pretty good." This NBA player sounded about as excited as if he'd just found a dollar. Chef looks at me as if I was the recipient of some great present. "That's it?!" I ask.

I worked two hours, to hear some guy act like he just took a bite out of a decent burger. Does he know who I might be one day?

In case you hadn't noticed, my peelers aren't on store shelves yet. Maybe the lackluster reaction to that dish is why. Though likely not.

I hold no resentment to my lack of fame. It was an honor just to get so close to almost famous.