Fire in the hole: Clam chowder
Anytime you combine hot liquids, sharp objects, and open fires in close quarters—disaster is right around the corner. Anyone who has cooked in a restaurant kitchen or at home for any length of time has stories to tell. Recently as I was lifting enchiladas out of the oven, I caught the corner of the pan on the front of the oven rack. A red, cheesy burp of Mexican slopped onto the hot oven floor, into the pull-out pot drawer, and oozed down to the kitchen floor. By the time the oven was cool enough to clean, the cheesy goo was a rubbery mass. Not to mention that I'd lost at least 50% of the pan's contents. This mistake brought to mind restaurant kitchen disasters.
Once during the transition from Sunday brunch to lunch, I tipped over a five-gallon bucket of clam chowder on the floor. Service was halted as the the brunch cook, the lunch cook, the dishwasher, and I skated on the lumpy, slippery floor wielding rubber squeegees, push brooms, and bar towel mops.
The original Border Grill on Melrose consisted of a twelve-table dining room and bar in the front and a six foot square kitchen with dishwasher to the side, a tiny prep area four steps up from the line in the back, and an illegal prep area outside in the alley. On my first day, carrying a five-gallon bucket of tomatillo sauce down the stairs into the kitchen, I spilled the entire contents down the back and neck of Cuco, the tall, solemn dishwasher. He was gracious, but not amused and spent the remainder of the day coated in green. The same day, I turned my back on the new Robot Coupe (a extreme industrial blender) and the turncoat walked itself off the counter, onto the floor, and into pieces. Fortunately I was not fired, but there was doubt.
In the 70s, I helped open La Petite Maison in West Olympia WA. Three months before opening, I started work—sanding, painting, and eventually stocking the kitchen. Two days before the Contributing Partners dinner, Rick left me in charge as he ran upstairs to think. Food for the dinner was in cold water baths, pots were scrubbed and hung, linens were folded and ready, with only a few cleaning jobs left to do. The used deep fryer needed one more run through and Rick’s last words to me were, “Don’t leave the fryer on—the sprinkler system hasn’t been calibrated yet.” Enter Bob and Beth. I took a break and we sat in the quiet, formal dining room, separated from the kitchen by a swinging pass-through door. We were visiting, laughing, and drinking one more espresso, when a loud, explosion stopped our conversation in mid-syllable. A white, powdery substance puffed out from under the swinging door. Rick bounded down the stairs in one step yelling—“Maaarrrrllaa!!” Indeed, the fryer overheated and alerted the trigger-happy Ansel sprinkler system, saving us all from a good night’s sleep. There was an inch of white, baking soda-like powder everywhere—in the food, covering the clean plates and silver, on the pots and pans, in the linens, and all over Jasmine, the dishwasher. Seven of us—including Bob and Beth—vacuumed, swept, and mopped until 3:00 the next morning.
These last two were not my fault. In the midst of a busy City Restaurant Saturday night, the new tandoori man knocked a quart of clarified butter into the 600 degree tandoor oven causing an explosion that blackened his face, the lamb and chicken skewers, frightened the diners and sent the runners diving for cover. On opening night of a Santa Monica brewpub, a 500 gallon mash vat erupted, pushing beer foam under the door, onto the restaurant floor, and under the feet of delighted diners.
Commercial kitchens are almost indestructible but things happen. Restaurant bosses forgive accidents but are less understanding about food-related missteps. You may receive a pass for setting off the Ansel, lighting the chef's kitchen towel on fire, or turning the stock pot into a carbon-based unit but burning the bisque, overcooking the Copper River salmon, or incorrectly portioning the ribeyes will cause great alarm.
Sound Food Clam or Fish Chowder
• 3 T. butter
• 3 T. flour
• 3 stalks celery fine dice
• 1 fine diced onion
• 4 carrots—fine dice
• 4 smallish red potatoes, peeled
• 1 t. dry thyme
• ¼ t. dill or 1 head fresh dill
• 2 c. chicken stock
• 2 c. ½ & ½ or heavy cream
• 1-2# chopped clams or firm fish (salmon, halibut, cod, snapper)
• 2 c. corn
Melt butter and flour for roux.
Sauté onions, celery, and herbs in roux—5-10 minutes. Add potatoes, carrots, stock and simmer 10-15 minutes. Add cream. Simmer 10 more minutes or until vegetables are soft.
After hard vegetables are cooked, add chopped clams/raw cubed fish and corn.
Remove fresh dill before serving.
Posted by Marla Nichols at 7/6/2011 6:36 AM 
Categories: Soup, American
Tags: Sound Food La Petite Maison City Restaurant tandoor Border Grill
Categories: Soup, American
Tags: Sound Food La Petite Maison City Restaurant tandoor Border Grill
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