Weekend Assistant Gig

As a culinary student, one of the greatest things I've been doing is volunteering to assist chefs at big-time culinary events. Not only do these events provide for excellent networking, but they provide a better idea of what chef-hood is like outside of the classroom, in real kitchens, with real deadlines.

I arrived at the event location, a swanky, historic hotel around 11:00am. The event was an exclusive wine tasting accompanied by appetizers made by the worlds biggest and brightest chefs. Upon arrival, I was escorted into the hotel's massive kitchen. As I walked through the swinging double doors into the underbelly of the hotel, I spotted one. "Oh my god," I thought, "I'm in the same kitchen as (insert name of famous chef)!" Then, I spotted another. And another. They were hiding in walk-ins, behind speed racks and camouflaged by steam and smoke. They were EVERYWHERE. There were old-time classics, modern renegades and celebrity types from the food network - all in the same kitchen. So cool. It was equivalent to being a groupie backstage with the Beatles, the Temptations, Aerosmith and the Jonas Brothers, all at the same time.

I felt bad for the executive chef of the hotel. Can you imagine having your turf invaded by the industry's best, many with major egos, who pillage your space and equipment without a care? It didn't help that this was one of the most disgusting kitchens I've ever seen, and people were talking about it. Roach City.

I got assigned to an industry veteran, who started his career in Chicago, trained some of Chicago's finest in his kitchen, and then moved to Hawaii to start a haute dog joint. Love him.

The most uneasy moment of the night came when I needed to steal tongs from one of my fav chefs. I was desperate. And, I simply couldn't let my boss-of-the-moment down. As soon as I saw this chef disappear into the walk-in, I swooped over to her station and swiped the tongs under my apron. It felt so wrong, but so right. Another chef, who witnessed the entire tong-napping smiled at me and shot me a thumbs up.

My chef was serving kobe beef and lobster hot dogs. The lobster dog was delicious - topped with a squirt of wasabi mayonnaise, julienned banana peppers, and a dollop of neon green, chunky goo. Guess what the goo was?! "What else," Haute Dog Dude said, "Chicago relish." He imports that stuff to Hawaii. As a born and bread Windy City girl, nothing made me happier.

Service began around 6:30pm. I was stationed at a hot stove, over a giant pot of 170 degree water, heating hot dogs. Totally unglamourous, but it could have been worse. Haute Dog Dude was about to head to the ballroom and leave me to tend the dogs, when his old employee walked up. There were hugs, handshakes and smiles. Apparently this guy began his career working for Haute Dog Dude and has since become executive chef/owner of three successful joints. Um, can you say chef crush? As I explained to my fiance, its similar to the crush he had on Manon Rheaume when she made it to the NHL.

This guy was good looking, accomplished, super nice, and making muffins. Just picture it, an eye pleasing, successful, nice-guy chef pouring batter into muffin cups, right next to me and my wieners.

"I have to head upstairs for a second, can you watch these muffins for me?"

"Um, oh yeah, sure. No problem," I replied, while tongging three hot dogs at once, (I was trying to do something impressive). He left, and the muffins became my mission. I kept checking the oven, adjusting the temperature, and even pulled them out a few times and stuck a knife in the center to see if they were done. Suddenly I heard a voice..... "I zink they wil kook fahstur eef you juhst leave them alone." I turned around and there he was, my favorite little French man, smirking at me at my obvious overattentiveness. I forgot, The Chef was slotted for an after dinner VIP cooking demo. "Ahs soon ahs you ahre dun weeth your little muffinz and sawsages, come and give me a hand, yah?"

"Yes, chef," I replied.