Having been working in professional kitchens for over 8 years, I have had my fair share of tacos. Family meal at a restaurant in California consists of inexpensive versions what the staff would like to eat, not what is on the menu. The first restaurant I was at, I thought I was going to die if I had to eat another taco. I learned how to make some of the best salsas, and mexican food from my co-workers. When I moved to NYC for school, the only thing I missed was Mexican food. Of the two places in the city that serve Mexican food, both failed in my eyes. It was something that left me craving a taste of home.
Living in Southern California for most of my life, I know a few things about Mexican food. It's better in a restaurant at family meal than you can find in Mexico. The cooks make things you will never see at a restaurant. These guys generally work two jobs and are living in the heat of a kitchen day in and day out. They don't take time off except for one week a year where they get to go home to see their families in their country of origin. They work harder, complain less, and have the funniest personalities of any group of people I have worked with. Gaining their trust is a battle that is not often won. They are a familia and no matter what I will be a spoiled white girl in their eyes.
I speak enough Spanish to get by. My abilities now after studying the language for four years in school have been reduced to kitchen Spanish as I call it. I understand much more than I am comfortable speaking. Anytime I have walked into a new kitchen I have made it a point to know all of the staff's names by the second day. This is humorous to me as I was working as an office manager and went out into the kitchen to meet the guys. They all told me someone else's name and would change it through out the day. There are a lot of games that go on.
In my first professional kitchen I was hazed. It was horrible. I left my shift some nights devastated and tormented. The guys didn't see me as an equal. They thought I was being paid more than them and was given special treatment. I complained to the chef and he told me to toughen up and that I needed a thicker skin. He was right. I had to work harder, faster, sweat more and just deal with it. After a while it made me a better cook. I knew to keep one eye on the burner and one eye on the oven temperature. It was after several burned sauces and uncooked cakes that I got in a rhythm. I never complained again when I found the flame turned up on my sauces. I learned how to fix things like a broken beurre blanc, and never let myself be unorganized enough to leave and oven area while there were cakes inside baking.
Eventually the hazing stopped. I was in, and a part of the team. I learned more by being tortured than I ever would have in school with a bunch of kids who had no idea what a real kitchen experience was like. I found my place, knew all of their children and wives names and birthdays. They became friends. I ate tacos everyday with them. I was, and am no better than anyone else. My father held a big position at a huge company for 38 years and he knew everyones names. He treated the janitor with the same respect as he treated the president of the company. This boiled over into his personal life as well. Outside of my bosses in the music industry, I have yet to see that happen at a company. I know better from the examples I was given and find it amusing that people are successful by any other means. I know not to take anything those people say to heart and am really glad I don't wake up in their shoes everyday.
One of the joyous treats from family meal was a fruit based refreshment. Whatever was in season would be turned into some wonderful beverage to be enjoyed by the staff. Most of them would be what I consider a mocktail. A cocktail minus the alcohol, but just as awesome when working a ten hour shift on your feet in a hot kitchen. From the garden, we have beautiful watermelon. I made some watermelon water. It's very simple; watermelon, lime juice, pinch of salt and water. Blend and enjoy. If you pour it into an ice cube tray and freeze it, it's the perfect base for a skinny watermelon margarita. Add vodka and a splash of simple syrup and soda and you have another delightful creation. You can't go wrong with something created from the lessons learned in a professional kitchen.
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