It’s been quiet here on the Munch Monster front. Too quiet, I know. I apologize for that, and instead of excuses I’ll just say I hope things will begin picking up very soon. I start work at a new restaurant in a few days, so for a late anniversary gift I took my wife to my new place of employment. The restaurant is fine dining Italian, but with a casual and family flair.
I’ve already trailed behind the grill chef for one night of service, the position I’ll be taking up, and found the experience outright exhilarating. This is cooking. This is making everything from scratch. And this is what I’ve been waiting a year for sludging away at a corporate location. As I walked out of the kitchen in corporate land for the last time after dinner yesterday evening it became apparent that I was about to prove myself. That should scare me; I know most people would be shaking right now.
But instead I nonchalantly walked up to the chef after our dinner tonight to inform our grill chef that the chicken he prepared was the most perfect one I’ve ever had out of a professional kitchen. The overcooked chicken phenomenon that is prevalent in every American kitchen didn’t exist. I also informed him that the braciole special – technically the dish served is an involtini, but I digress – was quite good, but that I didn’t enjoy the polenta that went along. This hurt the grill chef, who I realized came up with the special that night. That probably scared me more than having to do 200 covers in a night when I’m just learning the menu.
Everything on the plate was wonderful. The braciole was cooked to perfection, asparagus was cooked just to the point of doneness where the snap of raw vegetable had just departed, and the polenta was flavorful. Polenta has a tendency in the wrong hands to be simply a vehicle for other flavors, but at my new restaurant the polenta is finely balanced in flavor. My issue was that the creamy texture of the soft polenta left me with little textural counterpoint to the braciole filling. A minor gripe. And I admit to making an ordering mistake by getting both the grilled polenta for an appetizer and an entrée featuring polenta. Perhaps I was just polenta’d out.
No longer needing to arrive at work for random hours I’ll be working with a group of chefs on a set schedule. I’ll get home, even on a busy night, with time to stretch and relax. Maybe even write a few things here and there. Eventually as I come up with specials for dinner I’ll inquire about sharing them with you guys.
