Rocco Deluca and the Burden, Colorful

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EOFTgFO64yA

While I was listening to the radio riding the Lifecycle, an interesting image connected to part of the lyric—"You dance like no one's watching". Praise or derision? Praise, I'd say. An old Saturday Night Live skit that takes place behind Lisa Loopner's closed bedroom comes to mind. She dances on her bed, swivels her hips, extends her arms, crooning  to an invisible lover on her air microphone until her mother yells up, "What are you doing!!" "Nothing"— the fantasy explodes and her bedroom re-emerges.

Only the young, the skilled, or the clueless dance like no one's watching. Most of us loose the ability to throw ourself into an activity without worrying about what someone thinks. Dancers in beginning ballet classes do the classic moves with an element of hesitation and a tamping down of emotion. Professional dancers, confident of their technique, fill the air with desire and passion.

That line of lyric also defines a good cook at work. It took me years in a restaurant kitchen to loose my hesitation and rely on my experience. Ten years of Sound Food's weekend dinner rush, Sunday brunch, and Strawberry Festival food booths led me to believe that I could work at a restaurant in Los Angeles; but I still faced ever-impending daily kitchen disasters with stress and severity until I worked with Mary Sue and Susan. They were both supremely confident in their ability to handle whatever occurred, and laughed in the face of a good crisis.

On opening night at the original Border Grill, we expected and prepped for 25-40 dinners and spiked over 100 tickets. The three of us wedged behind the impossibly small line—Susan at the saute, Mary Sue at the grill, and me in the pantry. At one point, there were so many orders fluttering in the pass through that the wait staff stuffed them in coffee cups. Just when I was ready to run out the back door, MSM/SF looked at each other, broke into laughter, and sat down, unable to continue. I joined them on the floor and we leaned against the stove howling until Barbara McReynolds marched into the kitchen insisting on order.

At City Restaurant, when Mary Sue or Susan's old friends, family, or visiting chefs came into the kitchen during a busy service, multi-tasking took on a new meaning. Line cooks squeezed in special orders for special people, moved over so the "girls" could try something new, paused to acknowledge an introduction, or swerved to avoid a "tourist" behind the line. Both Feniger and Milliken took meal service seriously, but they always found time for a chat and a laugh.

I was watching Mario Batali on Iron Chef America last night and recognized that same ease and self confidence. The clock ticked down, cameras zoomed in and Alton Brown broadcast his every move but Mario danced as if no one was watching—consistently gracious, funny, and informative. By the way, the food looked fabulous and all of the designated eaters nearly groveled at his feet.

Balsamic Glazed Chicken with Grilled Radicchio (Makes 4 Servings)
from: Mario Batali's Simple Italian Food: Recipes from My Two Villages (Clarkson Potter 1998)

• One 3 ½- to 4- pound chicken
• 2 garlic cloves, finely minced
• 4 tablespoons chopped rosemary leaves
• 2 tablespoons freshly ground black pepper
• 1 teaspoon sea salt
• 5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• 2-ounce piece prosciutto rind or bacon
• 2-ounce piece Parmigiano-Reggiano rind
• 2 medium red onions, sliced into 1-inch disks
• 3/4 cup Lambrusco or other dry red wine
• 1/2 cup balsamic vinegar
• 6 large heads radicchio di Treviso