My family is very food oriented. My mom's side boasts a published cookbook, an episode on a cooking show and a successful catering company. That was mostly my aunt's doing but I say my entire mom's side because without seven daughters that at some point all worked for the company, parents (my grandparents) that loved to cook, and cooked everything at home and from scratch - these accomplishments wouldn't have been possible.
I grew up in the kitchen working with my mom most nights and my grandmother at holidays. Most families send there kids to work when they're old enough; in our family it's when you're good enough to work. I started low: dressing salads, placing deserts and making 100-cup pots of coffee. Eventually, working on "the line" for dinner plate-up at large weddings, dinners and galas sometimes with over a thousand guests. We had the honor of working the musical festival Lollapoloza's VIP tables, Steppenwolf theater's annual gala and President Obama's winning ceremony in Grant Park. All the while I got more experience not just working with food but loving it.
As I worked my way up I started to get the pleasure of working in the "prep kitchen" in downtown where all the real magic happens. This is the kitchen where five to ten parties a day and sometimes thirty in a weekend's food all got made from scratch by a select team that work all at once. And almost all in Spanish.
This is where our meal comes in; my very first day I was working in the pastry department and I was probably only 13 or 14 years old. I had been dropped off at four forty five in the morning and was tired and confused as to where to go and what to do. Also, as low man on the totem pole I got the thankless task of scooping nearly ten thousand chocolate chunk cookies for weddings and parties for that weekend. I knew it would take all day but I was excited at the prospect of working in a real kitchen!
I remember it well, the kitchen smelled like gooey chocolate all morning as I scooped at my station and they baked and made more batter and worked on other small projects. After nearly seven hours scooping at noon I got tapped on the back and told it was time to eat. I was so excited at the prospect of just sitting down and taking a break. But there wouldn't be any true break.
I got handed a small ceramic plate of approximately six handmade corn tortillas and told in Spanish which meats and vegetables were what. After they showed me the correct way to fill my tortillas, I was directed towards the sauces - "caliente, mediano and gringo". And without really getting to choose I got gringo which was still super spicy! At this point I saw that no one was sitting down and some had already gone back to work. I was shocked. My friends in pastry knew I tired and found me two crates to sit on while I chugged an ice cold coke with tacos.
This was when I got really excited though as the flavors blew my mind. I had tasted Mexican food in a number of restaurants and had tacos or burritos at friends houses made by there parents but nothing compared to the taste of authentic Mexican tacos after working hard for so long. The spices were perfect and hot, the carne asada mouthwatering and the onions, peppers and zucchini dripping in just the right amount of oil. It took me to another place, another cultural - with all the Spanish cuisine and language around me it really inspired my love of food.
And then it was done. After about fifteen minutes everyone was already back to work and not because they had to or because someone was there checking that they were. Most of them were just as excited about food and just as ready to put the time into making it right. This type of kitchen and this way of loving cooking for the sake of cooking is what got me interested in food.
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