Jacques P

[michael-in-phoenix]

"I began my formal culinary apprenticeship in 1949 at age 13 in the kitchens of the Grand Hotel de l’Europe, in my hometown of Bourg-en-Bresse, near Lyon.

As was traditional in France at the time, my apprenticeship lasted three years, the first of which I was not even allowed to approach the stove. My earliest duties included cleaning the floors, the walls, the refrigerator, and getting wood or coal for the stove. Keeping that stove super hot as the orders came in was the most important duty of the apprentice.

Mismanagement would cause mayhem in the kitchen and dining room. After I’d been there awhile, I was assigned a number of small chores, among them chopping parsley, cutting up vegetables, trimming meat, plucking and eviscerating poultry, and gutting and scaling fish.

Being allowed to cook at the stove, finally, was such a big deal that it was almost like a graduation.

We worked seven days a week, with a few days off at the end of each month, and received no pay.

Basically, apprentices back then had to steal the craft. Chefs did not explain anything; we watched and we imitated. We didn’t question the chef’s orders, but just did what we were told. -JP"

 

[wigs]

Sounds about right. The real kitchens are tough, thankless, soul-breaking places at times. I

discovered that fact while working as a waitress part-time from the ages of 19-26 (through college and beyond while teaching my first 4 years of high school). There was more than enough pressure for me on THIS side of the warming shelf, thank you very much!

The Chef at The Peach Tree Restaurant (was located in northern Indiana, but closed down some years ago) was from Boston--he was a short little Italian guy who could yell and swear and bang his huge knife on those stainless steel counter tops at top decibel level. You never stood around idle when Chef was on the premises. You could not walk from the dining room into the kitchen without carrying something that needed to go back into the kitchen--dirty dishes usually. Lots & lots of rules, but boy, did I ever make the tip money! In 1969 my hourly wage was $1.40 an hour, but it was the norm to rake in $120.00 or more in cash tips on a Saturday. I loved that waitressing job!

I distinctly remember when the Chef decided it was time for me to learn to carry trays "up" instead of two-handed out in front of me. He started me off practicing in the kitchen with bricks from the steam table on a tray so if I dropped anything, there was no china or glassware broken. Subsequent step came when I was told I could carry trays of dirty dishes into the kitchen from the dining room. FINALLY, I graduated to carrying orders for my customers from the kitchen to the dining room tray jacks in the "up" position! Next commenced his "classes" instructing me how to carry 5 dinner plates at one time (4 in my left hand & at least 1 in my right--eventually I mastered 4 in the left & 2 in the right all at once while walking from tray jack to table. YES!). Chef John DiPiro had the best heart & soul of anyone I've ever known, but he would put forth a hard crusty exterior in order to get people to MOVE and do their jobs.

Nope, no way did I ever want to be a line cook or work on the other side of that warming shelf!

 

[michael-in-phoenix]

Wow. What an experience! Something one would never forget, I'm sure.

 

[lisainla]

I love this story, Wigs. I thought of you as I carried two plates in each hand out for dinner

tonight - there is no way I could do more than two at a time in each!