So. Early one morning, like 0600, I walked to the loading dock of the building that housed our kitchen, cafeteria, lecture hall, class rooms, and auxiliary kitchens. In the weeks leading up to my first day, I had scoped shit out while tying up the last of my loose ends on campus before classes began. So I had an inkling of where to go and how to get into the building at such an early hour. I was met there by another gal obviously with a shared goal and she asked if this was where we were supposed to go. The loading dock and adjacent entrance were locked. We didn't know what we were doing. Eventually we found our way into the building, as did our other classmates.
Our first day... maybe our second, also, were introductory days. We met out of uniform in the lecture hall and had a general assembly of first semester culinary program students. There was boring stuff, there was pertinent stuff, there was interesting stuff. Then there was a day when we finally got into the big kitchen.
Peep this - the culinary program at citycomm served the general student body via the cafeteria. Hundreds if not at least a thousand hungry mouths. The cafeteria, from a customers perspective, consisted of a small area where grab and go sort of prepared sandwiches and items were available. This small area was where hot breakfast items were served, as well as pizza and burritos and shit like that at lunch. This spot had its own dining room and a small, open kitchen just off of it. Adjacent to this was the larger dining hall, with a much larger more quintessential cafeteria line. There was a salad bar with fixins as well as composed salads. There was a whole line of steam trays and hot food. Soups and accoutrements. There was a small section of the cafeteria that was a la minute, meaning the food was made to order by the 3rd/4th semester students. Kind of their opportunity to showcase some shit and develop their own menus.
Off of this cafeteria was the grand kitchen - an absolutely cavernous space with probably 50 foot ceilings and very high windows that let in a lot of light. This was like an aircraft hanger of a kitchen. The grand kitchen was broken down into various sections. There was a large dish pit manned by two old, salty, sass talking black gentlemen who were always wet from sleeves to knees and who always had some shit to talk. Next to these guys in an alcove was the tilt skillet* where we'd make a shit ton of scrambled eggs or stews or whatevz. Next to this there was an office that housed desks and books and our med kit and sharpening stones that the chefs would use to make orders, take calls, office shit. There was a corner of the kitchen dedicated to the preparation and production of sandwiches. There was an area that had steam kettles and ovens and the wok station, with long prep tables running parallel. Opposite this area divided by a wall were 3 significantly larger steam kettles that were in constant rotation of stock making. There were more ovens, a gas grill, stoves, many more butcher block prep tables, equipment galore. On this same side, but subdivided, was the "salad" prep area. Lettuces were prepped and washed and spun in salad spinners that could've doubled as clothes washing machines. Pounds and pounds of vegetables and fruits would be processed in this space as well. There was an area with wide, deep sinks for washing produce. It had two meat slicers, scales, steel prep tables, and an industrial potato peeler. This potato peeler looked like a slender dalek - it was adjacent to the sink and was piped into the water supply. One could turn the water on, turn the machine on, load potatoes into the top pounds at a time and it would turn them with an abrasive disc and peel them as the running water ran through with their peels. It was like a giant garbage disposal without the teeth. When he potatoes were sufficiently peeled, you'd open a hatch and turn the machine off and they would tumble into the sink (where, ideally, you'd have a colander to catch them).
Off of this savory kitchen was the baking and pastry kitchen, still housed in the same cavern. This kitchen had a carousel deck oven*, proof boxes*, a rack oven*, enormous mixers, myriad massive wood topped work benches. Bins of flours and sugars, chocolate, trays upon trays upon trays. In a corner of the bake shop was an area for cake making. One work bench was dedicated to making laminated doughs - croissants and danishes. One area was for making dozens and dozens of muffins and bread puddings and creme caramels. A bench against a wall had massive, old school scales that used weights and scoops and had like 20 pound capacities that we used for bread production. Every day hundreds of rolls were weighed, mixed, portioned and shaped, proofed, baked, and cooled - just to be set out for lunch.
Against one wall of the cavern were all of the massive walk-in refrigerators, and nearest the pastry area was the dry goods. There were three walk-ins, or boxes, in total. A box housed all of the dairy i.e. eggs, butter, cream, milk, cheeses galore. B box held vegetables and any other raw product - fresh meat, poultry,etc. C box housed cooked/prepared items - blocks and blocks of deli ham and such, 5 gallon buckets numbering in double digits full of gallons and gallons of stocks, bacon, all that shit. The pastry dry goods area had all manner of chocolates, dried fruits and nuts, tins for creme caramels, muffin papers, parchment paper, so much yeast, whatever else could possibly required for pastry producion.
Off of the grand kitchen through wide double doors was the loading dock. This was a massive caged area that was manned by a middle aged, extremely jovial Filipino man. Here one could obtain all of the alcohol, boxes of corn starch, oils, vinegars, hundreds of pounds of other sundries. There were large floor scales here, as well as many hand carts and dollies for maneuvering the literal tons of food that came into the building. This also led outside, to the actual loading dock driveway that a truck could (and did) back right up to. Our trash compactor was out there, our various recycling and garbage dumpsters, areas to break down boxes or wash out trash cans and containers.
Through a single door off the pastry kitchen was a hallway. Straight through this hallway was the PDR, or private dining room, that served the faculty and their guests. This was a more refined setting, with 3rd and 4th semester students working all facets of the front of the house from serving to managing to expediting. The PDR had its own intimate kitchen where 4 to 5 of us would rotate through the stations and cook dishes a la minute for faculty. There was a salad station at the back of the kitchen. One side had the grill and range and steam tables. Another cramped corner barely large enough for but often containing two people was the sandwich section. And finally there was a corner for desserts.
Down the same hallway were stairs heading down to the lower floor. There was a single class room often used by the pastry chef for lectures on techniques or history. A littleways down were some offices, and the office of our department head and her secretary, and some of the other culinary program administrators. At the very end of the hall was a wide elevator.
Downstairs was our lecture hall, another classroom where our labor studies class was held, mens and womens locker rooms for us to store our gear and change in and out of uniform and take a leak and wash our faces. And there was the meat lab. Meat lab was a completely satellite kitchen dedicated to butchery. It was a sizable kitchen with its own stoves and ovens and plenty of work spaces. Cutting boards and all the usual kitchen equipment abound, and its own walk-in with a walk-in freezer within it.
All of this under one roof. In my time at citycomm, I spent the majority of my hours in this single building. If not in one kitchen or other, then in a classroom, or in the lecture hall, or the locker room, or just sitting around in the common areas, or hanging out with my fellow cooks in either of the dining halls.
This is what my first kitchen experience looked like. In part two, we'll delve into how it worked and what it sounded and smelled and felt like.
Stay tuned.
Glossary:
Tilt skillet - a large, gas heated metal rectangle usually with a lid and a pour spout at its center. This thing has a temp control and a crank to turn the skillet toward its user to facilitate scooping out the large volume of food cooked within.
Carousel deck oven - a huge gas powered oven with wide, flat baking surfaces rather than metallic racks. A windmill deck oven has multiple surfaces yet one opening. There is either a crank or mechanical means to rotate the decks within the oven, to have multiple things baking on multiple surfaces.
Proof box - a temperature and humidity controlled chamber with racks to aid in the proofing or rising of yeasted items to be baked, e.g. breads, rolls, croissants, etc.
Rack oven - an oven the size of a closet that can contain a metal rack with a dozen or so sheet trays. Once slid into place and with the door closed, a mechanism at the top will rotate the entire wheeled rack to promote even baking.
Glossary:
Tilt skillet - a large, gas heated metal rectangle usually with a lid and a pour spout at its center. This thing has a temp control and a crank to turn the skillet toward its user to facilitate scooping out the large volume of food cooked within.
Carousel deck oven - a huge gas powered oven with wide, flat baking surfaces rather than metallic racks. A windmill deck oven has multiple surfaces yet one opening. There is either a crank or mechanical means to rotate the decks within the oven, to have multiple things baking on multiple surfaces.
Proof box - a temperature and humidity controlled chamber with racks to aid in the proofing or rising of yeasted items to be baked, e.g. breads, rolls, croissants, etc.
Rack oven - an oven the size of a closet that can contain a metal rack with a dozen or so sheet trays. Once slid into place and with the door closed, a mechanism at the top will rotate the entire wheeled rack to promote even baking.
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