Diary of a Line Cook: Number 3
Birthday discount, global psyops, and the motivation to cook for guests I never meet
Hello and welcome, dear subscribers, to the third entry in my Diaries of a Line Cook. I’ll be honest, I had hoped to be able to write more of these for you but, who would've thought it, being a restaurant cook actually doesn’t give you much time to write about being a restaurant cook. Shocker.
I normally don’t send a preview of these paid posts to all my subscribers, but today I’m taking liberties. On account of it being my birthday, I hope you’ll forgive me for sending this to you all and cynically capitalising on it by offering a wee discount on paid subscriptions.
If you can afford it, paid subs really make this newsletter a viable project for me, plus you get these line cook diaries (and more) as a bonus. For today and this weekend, click below for 25% off a subscription.
Thanks.
Wil
July 16, 2024
It is a Tuesday, first day of the working week for us at our little restaurant in Turku, Finland.
Tuesday is always a stinker because, with the restaurant closed Sunday/Monday, 90% of the prep work needs to be done once again. This is on top of the new lunch specials we (by which I mean, I) will be prepping as well. This week’s 3 course lunch features a beautiful freshwater fish called kuha in Finnish, or pike-perch in English. I believe those of an American persuasion call it walleye, which I find particularly pleasing. We’ll be serving it with this courgette puree I told you about a few months back, and some of the impossibly delicious new Annabelle potatoes we have coming in at the moment. They are a waxy variety and hold their shape but, cooked just enough, have a lovely creaminess to their texture as well. Buttery almost. Added to a dill butter sauce and I’m hoping this course will go down well.
Half an hour in and I have the courgettes cooking for the puree and potatoes almost boiled (tip: lots of salt, lots of dill stems in the water) when the door bell goes off. I haven’t mentioned I’m alone in the kitchen as the other cook (the guy taking care of the cold section) is on a double shift and starting a little later because of it.
That means I am going to have to answer it. Me, the stupid English guy whose Finnish remains the definition of “work in progress”. When I answer the intercom, I can just make out the name of our fish supplier between the static and typically Finnish mumbling.
I buzz him in, satisfied he isn’t a random stranger on his way to attack me or steal our spatulas.