I am officially a saute' apprentice if not a saute' cook.
Now, this is just another part of Line Cooking, and its both heady and sobering.
You get this smallish saute' pan going with oil in it (about the size of a small frying pan, with sloped sides) and then add ingredients. But wait, another two orders have just been called, and so now its three pans on three burners, run get the meatloaf order, now half a chicken, then cut the bread for servers.
Don't let the stuff in the pans burn, shake it, flip it. Using a spoon or spatula is totally armature. Sorry, I'm working on it; I'm used to spoons.
While all this is happening in the same minute, orders are called down the Line to the broiler bitch (see previous post) and the wheel man assembles all this for the waitstaff to carry out. Its my duty to have my stuff ready in a timely manner, not over or underdone, with no sign of panic.
My mentor, Billy Ho, says Never Panic.
I'm working on the panic.
Its really been fun, and educational. I still am the only woman cooking, which seems weird, coming from a kitchen in Highlands where it was just the opposite.
Kitchens have personalities. Anger and Depression is contagious. Smiles always warm the soul no matter what the emergency. Seems like a woman's thing, though. Guys: its OK. Smile.