During a recent visit to a new doctor, I listened as she tabbed her way through my medical history on her computer. "Hmm, no major illnesses, a right hip replacement...patient appears to be pleasant and cooperative." "Ha!" I said, " 'Appears to be pleasant and cooperative', I haven't heard that since grade school." She continued without comment.

I wasn't sure which aspect of her comment interested me most—"appears to be" (under that thin layer of nice I might be stubborn and spiteful) or "pleasant and cooperative" (damned with faint praise again). I have always been pleasant and cooperative. I got my first job in a restaurant not because of my kitchen skills but because I always showed up and I didn't do drugs.

Restaurants still offer entry workers a good chance to rise to the top and be boss. Many times, the boss just stuck around the longest.  In Los Angeles, many chefs and restaurant managers started out as dishwashers and bussers.  At Sound Food on Vashon Island, I started as a breakfast/lunch cook, watched people come and go, and finally ended up in charge of the kitchen.

On Vashon, I supervised my friends and peers with suggestions and positive reinforcement. In Los Angeles, imagine my surprise when my crew didn't speak English, didn't like women, and definitely didn't like me. The back kitchen prep guys and dishwashers formed a formidable, unofficial union with its own set of rules, its own pecking order, and its own hiring policies. One man represented the group and wielded a power far greater than mine. He (it was always a he) brought in new workers to replace ones lost to the INS, lost to gang violence in East LA, or lost to the pull of their homes back in South America. The spokesman doled out green cards, knew where to go for immigration help, could find you a loan, might give you a ride to work, and lobbied for you with the other guys.

Spanish-speaking men and woman who came north to work in restaurants left their families and their status behind. At City Restaurant in Los Angeles, Luis, a business owner from Peru, washed dishes; Bernardo, a butcher from Oaxaca, Mexico, boned chickens; Lupe, a  school teacher from Guatemala, baked pastries. Employees who started with Mary Sue and Susan in the early years were fiercely loyal to them. The girls taught them marketable skills, cussed with them in Spanish, helped them with personal problems, cajoled them to work harder, and yelled at them when necessary. "The guys" would do anything for "Milliken and Feniger"—for me, not so much.

Whenever I moaned to Mary Sue or Susan about being ignored, they said, "Really, I never have a problem with them." Eventually I became less apologetic about telling someone to hose out the dumpster, carry twenty cases of canned goods up two flights of stairs, empty the 50 gallon grease drums, or leave the female servers alone; but my bravado lacked authority. I was too pleasant and cooperative.

My time with "the girls" at the Border Grill and City Restaurant made up some of the best years of my restaurant career, put some steel in my spine, and left me some of my favorite recipes. The following recipes can be found in Mary Sue and Susan's books, City Cuisine, and Too Hot Tamales.




Mary Sue Milliken/Susan Feniger


Tortilla Soup

2 T. minced chipotle peppers in sauce
4 tomatoes
1 ½ c. diced onion
2 T. minced garlic
2 T. oil
4 c. chicken stock
2 c. fried tortilla strips

Place tomatoes under broiler or on grill and cook until they are roasted and brown. Puree with chipotles and strain through sieve.

In heavy bottomed pan, sauté onions and garlic in hot oil until onions are soft and golden brown. Add fried tortilla strips, pureed tomatoes and chipotles, and remaining chicken stock. Cook soup until tortillas are creamy. Correct seasoning if necessary.

Garnish with cilantro leaves, diced avocado, ¼ lime, and thinly shredded, fried corn tortillas.


Cinnamon Apple Cake

• 2 eggs
• 1 c. salad oil
• ¼ c. orange juice
• 2 c. sugar
• 2 c. flour
• 4 t. cinnamon
• 1 t. salt
• 2 t. baking soda
• 4 c. small dice Granny Smith apples (It’s important to chop the apples into small pieces)
• 1 c. chopped walnuts
 
Butter and flour a 10” square or a 9”x12” layer pan. Beat eggs until light yellow, add oil in a slow stream and beat until slightly thickened. Add orange juice.

Combine sugar, flour, cinnamon, salt, baking soda. Add to eggs/oil mixture and stir until combined.
Fold in apples and walnuts. Bake for 1 hour in 325 degree oven or until firm on top. Spread cream cheese topping on top or mound along side the cake.

Cream Cheese Topping

• 16 oz. cream cheese—room temperature
• 1 c. sifted powdered sugar
• pinch salt
• 1 c. heavy cream
• 1 T. vanilla 

Beat on machine with whip until light and fluffy.


Marinated Skirt Steak (also suits flank steak, hanger steak, rib eye steak, tenderloin, T-bone, or sirloin steak)

Marinade:

• ½ c. olive oil
• 3 T. red wine vinegar
• 2/3 c. soy sauce
• 3 Tbs. Worcestershire sauce
• 1 T. dry mustard
• 1 T. Tabasco
• 1 T. minced garlic
• 1 tsp. black pepper 

Combine ingredients, cover steaks with marinade, and refrigerate overnight. Bring steaks to room temperature and grill, three to four minutes per side. Don't overcook.

Slice skirt steaks against the grain and serve on flat bread with horseradish mustard.

Horseradish/Mustard:

• 1 c. stone-ground mustard
• 3 T. horseradish