In the kitchen

Work is chaos – the crash bang of pots on stovetops, orders yelled from one station to another, people running behind his back with large hot kettles, calling out ahead of them “coming through, coming through, don’t back up, coming through,” over and over in a hot litany of laser-tight focus. Jim is similarly occupied – he has vegetables to fry, he has five pounds of onions in a kettle hissing furiously, shedding gusts of acid in a vicious last act of malevolence, caught up in the fans and pulled away from his face as he bends over another pot, checking on a mirepoix that is almost done, browning up nicely, time to add the garlic and the herbs and let it soak in it’s own heat for a while. Back to check the onions, smack them around the pot briskly, with authority -  keep them controlled and evenly fried. The back burner pot is full of water at a roiling boil, waiting for vegetables. The runner boy plunks a steam basket full of green beans down on his way past (coming through!), and he snatches it up and plunges it in, checks the time – stirs the onions – grabs a bowl and spins around, looks both ways, dashes forward three steps to fill the bowl with ice. He turns around just in time to get a face full of heady beef steam before darting back to the safety of his station. Two minutes left on the beans, stir the onions.  Better start chopping that chard, he can have that prepped by the time the beans are done.  The runner boy comes and takes the mirepoix away, babbling something about needing another batch in ten minutes. He grins. No time to waste!

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