Michael Chen

Sorry this post is a little bit overdue. The last post I wrote about my experience in the culinary world sounded a bit negative, so I thought I’d balance it out by sharing some of my favorite moments from the past three months I’ve been in professional kitchens. Like I’ve said before, my time in this life has been a roller coaster, which means along with many downs there have been many ups as well. Otherwise I would have quit by now!

A great first moment was asking for a job at the Jalopy (thanks to a suggestion from Tanya) and being met with a smile and an “of course!” Nic (the owner) is a great guy, and helped ease me into what I should expect. My stint at the Jalopy didn’t last long, but I made some money (which is always a good thing, earning money while pursuing your passion) and gained some experience and insight into what to expect.

The second was talking with Bryce Gilmore and getting the opportunity to stage at Barley Swine. I’ve always had tremendous respect for Bryce’s philosophy about food and the whole farm-to-table idea, and the BS kitchen truly does put out some amazing food. I was so excited to just get a chance to be a part of the kitchen of one of the most popular restaurants in Austin, and when I first walked in, I was thinking “maybe I do have something amazing in me, if Chef Bryce is willing to let me be here!”

The third was having the cook working the Garde Manger station at BS call me over, show me how to plate a particular dish (Artichoke Custard), and basically tell me to take over that dish whenever an order for it came in. I truly felt involved, calling back orders, communicating times, trying to put together a beautiful plate that I was proud of, taking plates up to the pass for inspection, and having them go out to customers. It was only one dish, but I felt so happy and proud of myself. “I put those plates together, in the kitchen of a restaurant with an amazing reputation, and they are passing quality control and going out to customers. This is what I want to do, all the time,” I told myself.

The fourth was getting pushed and eventually working up the courage to talk to Chef Philip Speer of Uchiko in hopes of getting in the door. Everybody from Ben Starr to Tanya to Josh (my supporter friend in my audition episode) said that it was worth a shot. I was pretty intimidated at first. Barley Swine is one thing. The kitchen is rather informal (people cook in shorts and T-shirts, the feel is informal, and it is at its heart and soul a gastropub (a casual bar that serves great food). Uchiko is more of your typical upscale restaurant. Celebrities are regulars, the kitchen is run tight and spotless, mistakes are punished, everybody wears a chef’s coat and refers to their superiors as “chef”, and it might be one of the few places in Austin whose reputation rivals BS. Adding to the pressure, Executive Chef Paul Qui is basically a culinary celebrity after winning the latest season of Top Chef. Screwing up majorly in front of him could mean that my reputation in kitchens would be forever tarnished. Chef/Owner Tyson Cole is an even more intimidating man, despite his small stature.

However, approach I did. I was given the opportunity, and have thoroughly enjoyed my time there. Each day I learned something new, and it never ceases to amaze me how the kitchen just runs so flawlessly and smoothly. Everybody there is respectful of one another (even me!), communication is flawless, the kitchen is spotless, a true well-oiled machine. If you thought all restaurant kitchens were renditions of “Hell’s Kitchen”, think again. The orders are called out just barely at conversational level, the communication is quiet but effective, the dishes come out quickly and impeccably, and the only dish I’ve ever seen sent back was one diner who wanted their salmon “well done” *shudder*. The kitchen handles parties of up to 30+ (!!!) people with ease, and I think only once have I seen a station mess up an order (only sent two when there should have been 4 dishes). Even though I don’t do the most exciting of tasks, I just relish the opportunity to be in that environment, soak it all in, and take mental notes on how to run my own kitchen that effectively and efficiently some day.

The fifth is all the relationships that I have built. Nayan, the prep cook who patiently works with and teaches me how to do all the prep at Uchiko; Angela (aka @majkokid on twitter), the badass sushi chef that is one of the coolest people ever; Chef Tim Dornon, who’s usually in charge at Uchiko, always greets me with a smile and a handshake, and sneaks me tastes of all kinds of fish, sushi, tempura, and whatever dish he’s working on; Chef Philip Speer, culinary director of the Uchi Restaurant Corporation, whom I first approached about staging there and never hesitates to work me into the schedule last minute, whether as a stage or getting me a table even when the reservation list is full, and now a friend. Even at Intel, Frito, the deli station cook who likes to joke around with me, helps me understand when my personality comes across as abrasive, and who I can point out cute boys to. He’s straight, yet is starting to really understand my “rating system”. F: “That’s a 7/10 over there!” M: “Dang, you’re getting a little too good at this…..” Also, Rita, the friendly and fabulous barista that always make free drinks for me and sneaks some protein powder in there when the manager isn’t watching .

The sixth is being told to make something I’ve never made before, me making it, and having people taste it and proclaim it delicious. Things like Hummus, ALL SORTS OF SALADS (I have to come up with a new “special” salad every 1-3 days at work), soups, even the special dinner I cooked for my friend who just gave birth (see earlier post). In each of these circumstances, I was presented with a simple task (“Make some hummus” “We’re behind on soup, can you make one in about 20 minutes?” “Can you put together a crudite platter?” “Can you use up this couscous for your special salad today?”), knew the techniques/process of what I wanted to do despite having never done it before, searched for the necessary ingredients and made on-the-fly substitutions, executed the dish properly, tasted and fixed it if it didn’t seem right. And almost always I came up with a product that both I and the chef in charge was happy with (“It looks phenomenal…”). These are the moments that affirm to me that despite my necessary improvement on aspects like efficiency, organization, cleanliness, communication, and kitchen dynamics, I do have the instincts and palate to have a successful career as a chef. It also makes me groan a little bit at how much more I could have done/shown people if I had stayed longer and pushed my limits more in the MasterChef kitchen. Right now I have to work my way up from the bottom the hard way, but with any luck I’ll get a bit of a break soon .

The last is just little bits of encouragement that I’ve picked up from different sources that have stuck with me and made a crappy day a little bit better. From my station manager, Karl: “This may be your first cooking job, but you sure are a hell of a lot better than the prep cooks at my other job.” From my staffing manager at Acrobat: “We usually offer people in your position an hourly rate of X, but because we value your ability and like what you’ve done over the two day trial, we would instead like to offer you a rate of Y.” From a random coworker as I was blitzing through julienning onions: “Has anybody ever told you that you’re a badass?” From both the Chef and the Manager at the Intel Cafe: “You make great food.” From Chef Tim at Uchiko: “It’s great having you around, even though you’re a little green. You have that passion and hunger and it reminds those of us that have been around longer to be humble, because we were in your shoes not that long ago.” From Chef Speer, after I submitted a last-minute request to stage at Uchiko one night…he told me I was all set and after I apologized for the late notice: “No problem. We (him and Chef Tim) like you, or we wouldn’t even consider it.”

These are the moments that get me through a tough day/week when all I want to do is quit and go back to the comfortable life and go back to school and leave this madness all behind me. These are the reasons that I’m still living through this craziness and continue to pursue what I’m pursuing.

Update: Corrected name to Tim Dornon

For the better part of 3 months now since the filming of MasterChef concluded, I have been working in professional kitchens. Sometimes I’m paid, sometimes I’m not. Throughout these past couple of months, there are some things that I’ve taken mental note of, that have caused me to really look at the culinary world in a different light. Here are some points about things I’ve learned about life in the back of the house, and a few more detailed thoughts about each.

Full Disclaimer: These are just bits of information/thoughts about MY own personal experiences. Don’t let what I say below scare you away from doing what I’m doing, and I do not claim that every kitchen environment follows this pattern. Once could say that these are my opinions. In a way, they are, but I think a more accurate assessment is that these are the pieces of knowledge I’ve picked up from MY own personal experiences.

Full Disclaimer #2: This post will probably be LONG. Hopefully it will be an insightful read though. It’s also for my benefit to sort through a lot of the thoughts I’ve been having/struggling with.

Upon coming back from filming MasterChef, the biggest questions I had to ask myself were “How do I want to make the most of my MasterChef experience?” and “What do I want to do with my life?” I had pretty much figured out that a job sitting behind a computer screen all day, working with numbers and equations and computer models would not be a place where I would truly enjoy work. Trying out work in a kitchen was the logical next step for me, having just come off of MC3, and so I made the bold (and some might say rash) decision of not going back to school for the time being and just trying to dive head first into the professional world by trying to get my foot in the door of the culinary scene and attempting to make a career out of it.

One thing that I quickly realized is that experience is key to being taken seriously. Nobody gives a crap that you’ve just been on a TV show or whatever (and TBH, they shouldn’t!). Besides a (small) increase in marketability, telling a chef that you were on a TV show in hopes of getting hired gives you about as much credibility as saying that you cooked dinner for your family last night, they liked it, and therefore you are a great chef.

I walked into some of the best restaurants in Austin, hoping to start as a stage and quickly transition into a paying job. Financially I was in the process of completely becoming independent from my parents, but a key component of that independence is, well, income. However, upon entering the kitchen I quickly realized one thing. Stages are treated like free labor. First getting “hired” as a stage instantly brought elation, a sense of hey, this chef values me, sees something in me, and probably wants to hire me soon! I’m going to bust my ass and prove myself to him, and I’ll have a job in no time! Adding to that feeling is  how well everybody treats you when you first walk in. Everybody is really nice to you, they try to teach you how to do things correctly, during service the chef will often order free dishes from the kitchen for you to try and learn about. That bubble soon bursts though, as you start settling down and have a set list of duties. Oftentimes the most least interesting and most tedious tasks get given to the stages, whether that be peeling and thinly slicing a quart of garlic, peeling and deseeding shishito peppers, quartering between 50-100 lbs of brussels sprouts, etc since they are the tasks that nobody else wants to do, so it makes sense to give it to the volunteer. Oftentimes, while there at the kitchen I will feel like a part of the staff, with my own prep list, joking around and having fun with the kitchen, and feeling motivated to work as hard and as fast as I can. Coming home after a 15 hour shift and then realizing that you spent a whole day working hard and got exactly $0.00 while bills need to be paid, your car needs gas, and you need food is HUGELY demoralizing.

While we are on the topic of pay, it’s becoming apparent to me that most kitchen staff is underpaid. The executive and sous chefs might be the exception. Working in a kitchen is one of the most physically demanding and emotionally draining jobs out there. Often times you will need to either be there extremely early in the morning (I get to work at 6:50 AM, the pastry chef gets there at 4:00 AM) or stay extremely late (anytime between midnight and 2AM is common), if not BOTH. Once there, you face pressure from a variety of different sources, try to bust out a long list of prep duties, try to multitask with 3 things going on at once, trying to recover from inevitable mistakes being made, etc. You need to do everything on your list, do it perfectly, do it neatly, and do it in world record pace. Then once service starts, you need to serve customers as quickly as possible while maintaining high quality product, need to remember 15 tickets at a time, keep track of the cook times/progress of each dish (don’t overcook/undercook the pasta! check the doneness of that steak, don’t overreduce the sauce, are all 15 components on the final plate? how long as the pizza been in the oven? etc), making sure that all your mise en place is accounted for and fully stocked. Then after service ends there is often a complete scrubdown of the kitchen, a cleaning/organizing of the walk-in, and if you’re lucky, family meal. I’m fairly lucky in that the job I started at paid me 10$/hour. At most other place, prep/line cooks get paid closer to minimum wage. That equates to an annual salary of less than $20K a year. And yet, all the time when we go out to eat I hear complaints about how expensive it is and how the restaurants are ripping people off by charging way too much for way too little food. The amount of labor/labor costs it takes to run a restaurant is exhausting. The high cost of securing high-quality ingredient and having it delivered is exhausting. The overhead costs of actually leasing a place, paying the ridiculous utilities (AC works overtime in a kitchen, and the rate we use water would make a conservationist cry) are exhausting. It’s a sad fact that despite the high price a restaurant may charge for something as simple as pasta, the restaurant business is one where it’s extremely difficult to actually turn a profit. Most owners would be happy to just break even.

Going along that line, success in the kitchen requires a lot of humility. That’s something that’s always been difficult for me for a variety of reasons. I spent a lot of my life questioning my self-worth from being constantly put down by other people. I used to (and still do sometimes) feel unattractive, stupid, unsuccessful, and hopeless. Going through high school, I took a lot of pride and got a lot of self-worth out of my grades. I graduated summa cum laude ranked 6th in my class of 535, went to a great school with TONS of credits from AP testing (enough to be ranked a sophomore coming in), flew through my first semester of honors classes with a 4.0 GPA. I was well on my way to a career where starting salaries average around $60-80k/year. My professors that I interacted with said I would be a “hot commodity” in the field in a few years. I was everything I had been taught growing up that I was supposed to be, and was accustomed to being used as a role model for the kids I grew up around.

It’s like a fall from grace now. When these adults that used to praise me find out about my choice of career, their eyes at once cloud over with judgement. “Michael, have you really thought about this?” Every day at Intel, I come across hundreds of Asians. Whenever we make eye contact, I can almost hear their thoughts aloud. “What’s an Asian doing back there with all the immigrant cooks? Must have flunked out of college, poor thing.” *shakes head*. As I serve them their salad and try to engage them in conversation, I realize that their salary is about 4x as much as mine.

Beyond society’s view of the culinary field as a second-rate career, stepping into a professional kitchen with ZERO experience and ZERO credibility besides being on some TV show requires a ton of humility as well. I’m a passionate person with high expectations for myself, and I truly believe that I have what it takes to be successful as a chef/restaurant owner someday. I love playing the role of a leader, and there are certain things that I think should be done MY way. I want myself to do well, to excel, to rise quickly through the ranks, to stand out. Again, here is my pride standing front and center. I know it will take a lot of time for me to slowly make my way to where I want to be, but I’ve never been known to be super patient.

In terms of interacting with people, a lesson that I have learned is that to be successful in the kitchen, you must be able to deal with assholes and otherwise unpleasant people. Sometimes it can be coworkers; at one kitchen which shall remain nameless, the crew treated each other like frat brothers. When the new guy (me) came in, it was really a bizarre environment where I was treated like family and other times belittled and verbally harassed. After one particularly tough day, I responded to one last jab that came with a cruel smirk with a joking, yet serious “%&#$ you…”. Despite my later apology and insistence that I never intended to offend anyone, soon thereafter I was asked not to return to the kitchen due to a “lack of respect for the guys there.” Since I was the one that felt like I was being treated like crap, that remark stung. To be successful in the kitchen, does an individual really have to subject himself to what amounted to months of emotional hazing? That’s something that I’m not able or willing to put up with, and nor did I think it was a necessary or effective way to develop as a team member or a cook/chef, so ultimately I’ve moved on past that event and realized that it perhaps was good for me to leave, despite the unfortunate circumstances.

Not just coworkers though, but customers can be a pain in the ass as well. At the tossed-to-order salad station that I work at, there are customers that visit my station EVERY day and always ask me about every item we have posted. Every day, we have this conversation. “What’s that?” “Mushrooms .” “I’ll have a little of that then, what’s that next to it?” “Carrots .” “I’ll have some of that then, what’s that in front of it?” “….Onions…. :\” “I’ll take a little of that, what’s that on the left?” “This one?” “No that one!” “Oh, that’s bell pepper…. >:|.” “Oh no, no bell pepper…okay what kind of dressings do you have?” “There’s a list posted right up there sir *forced smile*” etc. Never mind that we almost ALWAYS have the same items every day, and these people almost ALWAYS get the same thing, to the point where I pretty much have their orders memorized, but they still want to play their “what’s that?” game, completely ignoring the fact that I’m spending 3x as much time I would like making their salad while a line of impatient customers forms behind him. There was another customer that openly talked shit about my hair to one of my coworkers (who later told me) and refuses to acknowledge me when I ask “may I help you?”, only looking up to acknowledge my coworker when he approaches the station instead while I stand there awkwardly. There’s only one word to describe that: RUDE.

One other thing that I’ve needed to grow more accustomed to (and participating on MasterChef helped a lot with) is that the kitchen is a place where crude language is used CONSTANTLY. My own views on using “curse words” has evolved and relaxed quite a bit since MasterChef. It’s almost a necessity in the kitchen to be able to communicate effectively, plus you’re going to sound foolish if you try to use euphemisms instead. Besides, what is the difference between “crap” (used frequently, even by “Christians”, and not as taboo) vs “shit” (often censored, viewed as foul language) anyways? It’s all a matter of perception in my mind, and in the kitchen where such language is normal, I quickly adapted to hearing and using those words on a regular basis (though I try to limit myself around people whom I know will take offense to these words). It’s not an understatement to say that in many kitchens foul language is used just as frequently as on Hell’s Kitchen (though usually with a bit less venom and intensity). For somebody that grew up in a fairly conservative environment, it takes a bit of getting used to.

Finally, The kitchen is a place of extremes. One minute, you could be freezing to death after spending 5 minutes trying unsuccessfully to find fresh tarragon in the walk-in, and the next minute, your face could be getting roasted to a nice medium-rare as you try and roast 20 poblano peppers on a blazing hot grill at the same time. One day, you might breeze by with minimal prep needing to be done, while the next day you may get 3 last minute catering orders and need to make pasta salad, potato salad, and fruit salad for 1,000 people, fill the 3 catering orders, burn your croutons and need to start over, in addition to all of your regular prep. There are days where I’ve gotten 11 hours of sleep heading into a shift (went to bed at 6:30 pm), other days with less than 5 hours of sleep. There are days where everything is going well, I’m working efficiently, and I feel like I made a great choice to choose this career, and other days where I screw up majorly, oversalt a huge batch of caesar dressing, deal with an overwhelming amount of assholes (see above), get yelled at for being too messy, and have a garbage bag break on me while taking out the trash, leading to a serious question of my sanity in leaving a comfortable, high paying career path for this mess I got myself into. It’s days like these that I get a quick understanding of how some people fall into substance abuse.

Despite what may sound like an angsty post complaining about how I can’t take it anymore, let me assure you that these past few months in the kitchen have proven to be one of the most growing times in my life. No, it hasn’t been easy, but in each and every situation I’ve learned so much, not just about the culinary world and other people but about myself as well. I’m fully appreciative of each person that has given me an opportunity to learn from them, no matter how tough of a teacher they were. In the past 3 months I’ve grown so much as a person and as a chef, and undoubtedly 3 months from now that statement will ring true yet again. However, I would be lying if I said that I’m 100% confident I made the right choice. Some might call me lazy, others might call me weak, but the past 3 months have also been some of the most difficult times in my life. Most of my close friends have slowly drifted away from some reason or another, and starting work has drained me of time and energy to pursue my other passions and interests. Undoubtedly, being successful in the culinary world requires HUGE sacrifices and an overabundance of passion for food, combined with steely resolve and patience to wait for opportunities to come by. Sometimes, I seriously doubt whether I have it in me to push through and persevere. In many ways I don’t feel fully ready or mature enough to take on all these fastballs that life is quickly throwing at me, but I suppose that’s my reward for my boldness and fearlessness in taking these big steps over the past year or so.

The big question for me still remains: is it worth it? Was the sacrifice that you made worth it? In truth, I don’t know yet. Only time will tell.