Food Relevance from a Drunken Cook

Wow!

This one is one of my dad’s stories and I can imagine the whole situation as clear as if I was there in person. Lets see if I can do him any justice in the telling of it wile remaining bias attempting to not upset the chef involved. I would like to steer clear of his wrath for I have seen and herd of it to meant times.

         This crew is often referred to in my writings as the heroes of my youth and are largely responsible for my own desire, dedication, ethic and skill foundation within the food world, when I talk about them I always seem to need to describe the situation and emotional mind frame I am experiencing as I remember them or in this situation attempting to relay a story from there day.
         I am listening to Ween’s live in Chicago album and bribing my boys with cookies to leave me alone as I finish this one up. I am also taking frequent breaks to stomach the laughter boiling up from my core as I imagine the rage in the following situation and the unity the crew of perpetrators expressed in the face of such a destructive rage.
         I also don’t want to offend the chef involved so if you do find your self here chef I am only a young pup dreaming of the days when you guys were the best and you must see the humor involved now… right?
         Ok, here we go…
         My dad in the early 90’s was the Executive Sous Chef of a big hotel here in the city, the cooks and management having a bond that I like to think of as still functioning years later with long periods of no contact. Well one of the Chef’s usual peeves was the non uniformity of some of the menu items. As I’ve said before Chef as well as my dad the Sous chef like to have a few now and again, you know, from time to time right? So Chef was disciplining the team of the non uniformity of the cutlets in this situation and proceeded to have “a few” and decided to order his supper and thinking of checking on the setting in of his earlier disciplining he ordered the veal cutlets wile having a few…
         The boys surely knew what he was talking about but decided to take a stand and play a little trick on chef. I know not who was responsible for initiating and following through but I do have my own suspicions. They went to the dish pit and retrieved a dirty old filthy dish rag and began cutting it into a perfectly uniform shape resembling the vision of Chef’s cutlets. They gave it a few coats of breading and fried it to a golden brown. The likeness was undetectable says a few of the available line workers that wish to remain nameless even now  over 15 years later.
         They plated it up with potatoes, vegetables and gravy then sent it out to their chef who was doing alright perusing his “few.” A couple gained some confidence and became brave warriors as they crept to the lobby to gain an unseen view of the hungry chef as he begins to really give’er on this cutlet. A few minutes pass by as his arms tire working his steak knife over the tasty rag. Not sure if he got any but I think he realized what transpired looking at the steak knife with a portion of string hanging from it.
         Recollections from the minutes following are vastly different from each other but follow the basic standing out come. I am told that there was absolutely no humor involved just pure unadulterated rage from the very sole of the enraged chef. Some say they were fired on the spot and some say there were punches thrown. I think everyone present received five thousand lashes from chef’s tong at least and I can see him rampaging through the place half pissed and bound and determined to find that dead little fucking bastard as I imagine he was thinking.
         This is like an urban legend or a fairy tale for me, way to extreme and desperately unbelievable for my mind to comprehend. Like ten thousand notches above the wildest thing I have ever attempted or even thought about attempting, especially knowing the chef that was attacked that fateful day in the dining room. Wow is all I can manage to muster up out of this laughter. Wow! What a brave bunch of lads I tell you, brave bunch of lads.