Foie Gras and Fat Arses

Regardless of what position one may hold in the restaurant – be it a restaurant manager, waitress or kitchen ward – people tend to abuse the kitchen as if it were their own or a 24-hour free supermarket. The food is just there and the little bastards take it! It happens throughout the ranks and more than half the time the missing food is unaccounted for. The wastage book records should be double what it is.

The history of foie gras begins in ancient Egypt. Goose fat was used for medicinal purposes and geese were raised for sacrificial offerings, as well as food for both the rich and poor. The centre of the goose trade was in Chenosboscia at the edge of the Upper Nile marshes whose name is believed to mean “place where geese are fattened”. Egyptian historical records depict the earliest practice of force-feeding. (Ginor, 1999)

In one day, I have seen the general manager come in with his line caught snapper for one of the apprentices to gut and de-bone, the function manager taking home a kilo of self-raising flour, the kitchen ward making himself a prawn pizza with the works and the barman drinking on the job. Even the head chef himself takes home dinner for himself and his girlfriend every night. I am told this happens everywhere and is taken into account in the food costs that are consequently passed on to the sucker restaurant patron. I have three words for these situations – security cameras everywhere! However, this may further increase the restaurant’s running costs, I suppose.

Under the Roman Empire, foie gras emerged for the first time as a delicacy in its own right. Rome’s conquest of formerly Greek domains (Turkey, Syria and Egypt) during 186 B.C. marks the beginning of a new chapter in Roman culinary habits. The army returning from Asia brought foreign luxury to Rome. It became a lengthy and costly business to prepare a meal. Cooks, who used to be regarded as slaves, began to demand high wages. That which had been toil became art. (Ginor, 1999)

The food costs gets worse when you have fat chefs in the kitchen. Unless they have a hormonal/ metabolic problem, a fat chef is a clear indication that he is literally eating you out of your profits. Before I start hearing the sirens of the Fat Brigade With Sensitive Feelings, consider this: you work in the kitchen for 12-14 hours only to stop for 2 hours to rest and have your one staff meal of the day. There is no such thing as sitting on the job like a clerk in the office and you should be really working your butt off. When working, you should just be grazing – to taste the food that you cook, not eat mouthfuls of it. So if you are working hard and tasting minimally during service, how the hell do you still put on weight?

In throwing a banquet, a Roman host’s first objective was to display his infinite largesse. However, the waste of food and money became so extreme that Augustus Caesar feared its effect on the Roman economy and instituted sumptuary laws demanding imperial agents be present at every feast to curb flagrant excess. (Ginor, 1999)

So equipped with this information, I myself am less inclined to eat out on my own. I know for the price I pay, 30% goes to the cost of the actual food plus the cost of lining someone else’s stomach. Another 30% goes to the wages of staff which also pays for a few of them to sit on their derrières, 30% for the other costs such as the ambience (including the cost of stolen cutlery and broken plates) and 10% goes to the poor owner in terms of profit. I still go out occasionally on my days off and with friends to restaurants that are truly worth the money. But when I am at home and have that half-arsed feeling that I am too tired to cook, I will still take half an hour to whip something up. Those who eat out on a daily basis for sustenance should think about this for a minute. Eating out every day is a waste of money and it feels satisfying cooking your own meal – at least you know it was your own grubby hands handling your food and not someone else’s.

Why do birds suddenly appear, every time I park here?

Is cheffing a career calling? If it is, money is obviously not the main objective because you get paid chump change. My boss receives the same sum that I used to earn for an entry-level corporate position sans the other perks. You do it because you love it and it really isn’t a job, but a lifestyle. And you really live for those occassions when a grateful patron actually makes the effort to visit you in front of the pass and personally thank you for the food. It’s just like buying that flash car for those moments when people look at your car and then tell you that you have a nice car. Although you wouldn’t want to openly admit it, but it’s times like those when you don’t regret foolishly spending your retirement fund on your midlife crisis.

In the eyes of the Australian immigration, a chef is in greater demand than an actuary or an economist, despite getting paid poorly. http://www.dimia.gov.au/skilled/general-skilled-migration/175/index.htm (click on Form 1121i)

When looking for a job, one thing to consider is parking availability especially if the restaurant is located in the city. Public transport is a nightmare because you’d be working past midnight when it ceases to exist. It takes me 5 minutes to travel to the area where I work but another hour just to find parking. Free all day parking, the urban myth, does exist and is the best-kept secret in Sydney. I surprised myself when I physically counted at least 70 free all day parking spots in Surry Hills alone but you are probably contending with 100 drivers who know these spots too. The only reason I get regular all-day parking is because I park in the postcode next door, stupidly in front of the Redfern Drug and Alcohol Rehabilitation Centre. When I walk to the car in the middle of the night, I make sure that my hand is on the handle of the largest cleaver that I have in my knife wallet. Even my six-foot head chef is worried every time he walks to my car for a lift home. I’d like to think that no one has broken into my car because of the sorry state it is in. My version of an annual carwash involves putting liquid detergent in the windshield wiper dispenser.

Cinnamon was once a commodity of great value and, together with nutmeg and clove – was the reason for much human bloodshed over time. The spice made its way to Europe over the ancient and dangerous spice route. Beginning in the ninth century, the Arabs kept their source of Ceylon cinnamon a highly guarded secret for many hundreds of years. They tried to discourage competitors from finding alternate sources by telling other traders, such as the Dutch and Portugese, stories of monsters inhabiting the countries that the Arabs suspected might contain the spice (Friberg, 2003).

‘Free trial period’? Sounds fishy to me.

As exclusive as some restaurants are in Sydney, you’d think that they would have the proper Human Resources protocols to maintain workers’ rights – of course not. Being dumb and new into the industry, I was duped by three Hatted restaurants. Welcome to the worst stinking industry in Australia.

Buying fish: It is easier to assess the quality of whole fish than that of steaks or fillets, so always try to buy fish whole and then ask the fishmonger to prepare it for you or do this yourself (Trotter, 2005).

Before you are employed in a restaurant, you are always called in for a “trial” day that usually involves you working for 12 hours straight. The employer will usually watch you from afar throughout the day to gauge whether you are hardworking, skilled and most importantly, work well with the others in the kitchen. So when I was called for a trial day in the best restaurant in Sydney, I felt honoured that the executive chef promised me a job for the next available apprentice position. I worked for 14 ½ hours in blind faith that I would be up for a role, thinking that this was the norm in the industry. Later on, I was trialled in another lesser exclusive restaurant and was pleasantly surprised when they insisted on paying for my trial day. Apparently it is illegal to not pay a worker for a trial day! It has lately dawned on me that Top Restaurant Asshole simply got me in for a trial day to exploit me for free. Every time I think about this, my pseudo Tourette’s Syndrome kicks in.

To assess whole fish, use your sense of smell. Sniff under the gills and in the stomach cavity - fish should not smell strong or fishy. The gills should be bright red, skin should be smooth not slimy and the eyes should not be cloudy.

I suspect that the top restaurants are so cocky about their good reputations and know that they can pull in gullible chefs to work really hard during trial days at no extra cost. And as if anyone would dare lift the lid on this type of exploitation - no top restaurant in Sydney is going to hire a whistle blower.

When buying fish fillets and steaks, sniff the flesh – it should smell sweet and of the sea.