Pass in Time

Every night there is a scramble before dinner service begins and over the last month, my role at Chapter One has evolved into something of a “Chef de Loose Ends.”

“Katy, could you just finish these potatoes during the Pre-Theater service? Katy, do us a favor, just give these herbs a chop and bag up this lemon confit for the waterbath. Katy, if you’re bored, you could just halve these prawns and finish up the spring rolls….”

And up scrunches a ticket of last minute jobs that are regularly left hanging. On good nights I am thrilled to be of help, fulfilling little favors all throughout the evening. On my weary nights, I begin to imagine that the cooks might take for granted their safety net in the back room.

It is only now, in my last week at Chapter One, that I have systemized a “mis en place” and successful work order for the loose ends station. Last night, all before 7:30 PM, I managed to catch up each station chef – each of their “favors” waiting neatly on the prep shelves; portion out the various parts of tomorrow’s soup – leaving them in a tray marked “Vichyssoise for Paul” on the starter section of the cooler; and shell two bins of prawns – now vacuum packed and labeled in the freezer. I was triumphantly mopping up the back floor when Ross walked through to join the second round of dinner service. “Ahh Kate, what are we boys going to do when you leave? Put away that mop and come work the pass with me tonight.”

It is a growing phenomenon among high end restaurants to let diners in on the kitchen magic making possible their meal. Perhaps you’ve eaten somewhere recently, where great wide viewing windows were the only barrier between you and the chef. Perhaps it was a wall-less kitchen, cooks and chefs floating around a marble island of stove tops, sinks and grills. Perhaps you’ve even had a meal sitting in the kitchen at a designated Chef’s Table. Many of us have enjoyed a behind-the-scenes vantage point on restaurant cooking. There remains, however, an inner sanctum within the sacred space of the kitchen that is typically reserved for one individual. “The Pass” is the stage upon which all cooked elements of a dish come together on the plate. Here, the chef will make his final touches to each composition. Here, every dish will pass before his eyes before arriving at a diner’s table. If you love to cook and you love the artistry of composing a dish, then spending your evening in this sacred space is about as good as it gets.
Last night I was privileged to a vision of the position toward which so many of us cook. Together, Ross and I plated, sauced and eyeballed every last entrée. Our attention centered on each round white canvas before us, we casually chatted about the food we were plating … “pigeon wrapped in crisp puff pastry varnished with an amber finish of Madeira jus and surrounded by a dancing dice of sunny colors - organic swede, carrot and celeriac.” Spooning sauce over fillets of Haddock, Ross told me stories of artisan Irish cheeses and coastal fish smoke houses. We traded views on genetically modified seeds and the future of family farms. While sprinkled caper blossoms on a Monkfish plate, He generously vetted my vague hopes for the future. And at one point, after I had laid the last leafy section of baby gem lettuce over a lovely breast of duck, he lifted my handiwork across the marble counter and proclaimed “Now that is a beautiful dish.”

My heart soared through the final hours of dinner service and clean down. It had been a marathon day. But even after 16 hours of concentrated labor, my aching bones were convinced they could work this hard every day if each were sealed with the satisfaction of The Pass.