The Recovering Line Cook

The Recovering Line Cook

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The Recovering Line Cook
The Recovering Line Cook
The Prep List: Chapter Two
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The Prep List: Chapter Two

Being and Doing Like a Chef

Wil Reidie's avatar
Wil Reidie
May 23, 2025
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The Recovering Line Cook
The Recovering Line Cook
The Prep List: Chapter Two
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Hello and welcome to the next chapter of The Prep List, my serialised “narrative cookbook” that tells the story of a line cook’s 16 hour-long working day in a Stockholm restaurant.

My goal with this “book” is to give you practical insights into great cooking with a Nordic twist, while giving you a behind-the-curtain look into restaurant life as I know it.

After our leisurely pre-shift forage in the last chapter, that project starts in earnest below.

This week’s chapter is all about getting set up for success. And in this chapter you’ll learn about:

  • Working more efficiently in the kitchen

  • How to utilise time effectively

  • How to plan and structure your cooking

  • The positivity and empowered mindset that helps chefs get through tough working days (and even disastrous moments)

Plus, I’ve created some downloadable time-planning resources to help you on your way.

Thanks for reading,

Wil


Chapter Two: Being and Doing Like a Chef

The tall one looks like he’s been punched in the mouth. A bulging upper lip so pronounced his front teeth are perpetually on show. Black-framed sunglasses hide his bloodshot eyes. Yes, it’s a guess, but a safe one I think. His name is Goran and, since I know he worked the grill last night and is medically incapable of not drinking after a shift, I’m assuming he hasn’t slept. Keeping her distance from him is our young pastry chef Elina. Both Swedish. One the polite, modest kind who'd never dare eat the last cinnamon bun at fika and thinks there’s nothing better than listening to The Cardigans during prep time, the other the dark heart of Nordic oblivion kind who prefers either silence or whatever Finnish death metal has found its way to his Spotify playlist that week. I leave it to you to guess which is which.

“God morgon,” I say. It means “good morning,” though with my butchered Swedish accent, it lands, at least to my ear, less like a cheerful greeting and more like a passive-aggressive insult. As though I’m yelling, “God, moron!” at them.

At least Elina is still smiling.

I unlock the service door, punch in the 4 note ditty of the alarm passcode, and we head toward the locker rooms.

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