The Butterfly Effect

6:30 Friday morning: By the time I get to Wilshire Blvd, I am already grumpy. The temperature on the Bank of America sign reads 75 degrees. It will be over-the-top hot behind the line today—six gas burners, two hot tops, one mesquite grill, an overhead broiler, a steam table, and hottest of all, the tandoori oven. I'm late—drivers grumpier than I am clog the side streets, impatient with whatever delay is slowing things down to a long, unified honk.

Fridays are brutal on a good week, and this week Mary Sue has chosen Dennis, my nighttime counterpart and imposing East coast strong arm, to accompany her on a media trip to Japan—leaving me to cover his shifts. Not only will I work through Saturday night, I will squeeze in all the weekend orders today, wrangle the prep guys to clean the alley dumpster, and check in the Rykoff order right before lunch service. Argghh!

7:00: Once in the kitchen, I check to make sure that the hot tops are on—but no. Raul, the regular night cleanup guy, has taken his yearly trip home to Mexico and his brother Carlos, who is taking his place, doesn't know the routine. The morning is not getting any better—the hot tops will take two hours to heat up, so the chicken stock will be on and in our way during lunch service.

7:15: Sullen-faced Manuel, king of the back kitchen and my nemesis (he can't forgive me for not being Mary Sue), and Jose (Jaimie, my favorite prep guy is unaccounted for), find me in the walk-in and announce, with only a trace of glee, that the grease drum is overflowing onto the alley again. My dumpster cleaners, Pedro and Humberto, slide in to verify. I phone the grease man. "Grease thieves!", he says. "The last three times I came by, your barrel was already empty. Can't waste my time, you call me." The price for yellow grease is up in the futures market, resulting in city-wide raids on restaurant and rendering plant collection barrels.

10:00: New Rykoff man—good news and bad news. He shows up early but takes forever to unload. Although Manuel schleps the Rykoff order from the alley to the upstairs storage room every Friday, somehow it always annoys him. When Dennis is there, his physical presence, his Spanish-speaking one-of-the-guyness, and his New York arrogance speeds the process along, but my old, female voice grows higher and more shrill as I insist that Manuel and his gang march the order upstairs before lunch service.

10:30: During the daily kitchen meeting, Dennis pleads with me (from Japan!), to inventory the case goods, input the count into his new spreadsheet, and "Don't forget the weekend fish order"!

1:30 pm: After being slammed for 1 1/2 hours behind the line, dodging those two pots full of chicken stock, I head upstairs to the storage room to do Dennis's bidding. Halfway up I shout to Manuel to scrub the grease they tracked in off the stairs and help Jose strain and cool the chicken stock—Rapido, rapido!!

1:32: As soon as I'm out of sight, Manuel heads for the alley to smoke.

1:40:  Pedro gives the steps a few swipes with a dirty kitchen towel and joins him.

1:45:  Jose, left to his own devices, lifts the chicken stock down from the hot top and sets it at the bottom of the stairs.

2:00: I run down the stairs from the storage room to place the forgotten fish order, slip on the greasy bottom step, and put one leg into the chicken stock up to my knee.  Susan, standing by the sink next to the stairs, is packing up food for a catered event. Seeing my dilemma, she shoves my burned leg into a 5 gallon bucket of soaking basmatti rice. We look down at the skin peeling from my leg into the rice, look at each other, and say, "This isn't good."

At the flap of a butterfly's wings: one week in the hospital, skin grafts, and crutches for three months. The moral of the story is: don't run in the kitchen, stay abreast of the futures market, and never leave chicken stock on the floor.

Chicken Stock

5 lbs. chicken bones (boned chickens, wings, backs, feet, and necks)
2 onions, rough cut
2 peeled carrots, rough cut
2 ribs celery, chopped
1/2 bunch parsley 
4 bay leaves
1 tsp. black peppercorns
2 tsp. dried thyme

Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Spread chicken bones on a baking sheet or in roasting pans and roast in oven, stirring occasionally for 1 hour. Toss carrots, onions, and celery with 1 Tbs. oil, 1 tsp. salt, 1 tsp. dried thyme, and 1 tsp. whole black peppercorns and spread on separate sheet and roast until browned, 30-45 minutes more.

Put roasted chicken bones and vegetables in a large stock pot and cover with 6-8 quarts of cold water. Bring to boil, then reduce heat to a gentle simmer. Do not let chicken stock continue to boil.

Let stock simmer for 2 hours, skimming frequently to remove foam and other impurities. Strain stock into a container and discard solids. Cool stock to room temperature and store in sealed container.