the chef from the middle kingdom

In this workplace, only one of my colleagues is a fellow Singaporean--part-timer S. The chefs, waiters and waitresses are from China, Nepal and the Philippines. Not forgetting the German Manager D and Chef C.



There are three Chinese chefs in the kitchen. One of them is 48-year-old Chef L mentioned in the previous post.



Chef L looks fierce at first sight, probably because of his tanned complexion and small eyes. But he has this mischievious glint in his eyes whenever he smiles. So far, he's the friendliest to me in the kitchen, and does little things which are actually quite sweet.



On Wed, when things were slow, he suddenly asked me to make him a cappuccino. I happily agreed, seeing this as a chance to practise my yet-to-be-mastered milk foaming skill.



As I skipped over to the coffee machine, he laughed and said: "I'm just giving you a chance to practise."



When the cappuccino was done, I asked him how it tasted. His review: "Hmmm.. It's not bad, tastes of coffee, tastes of milk, tastes of cocoa powder, tastes of sugar."



After the mad rush through dinner time, things slowed down a bit and orders for desserts came in.



Hungry me: "wow, the ice-cream looks good!"



Chef L: "This is nice?"



Hungry me: "of cos! ice-cream is always nice!"



Back to the kitchen after bringing the desserts out, he passed me a scoop of chocolate chip ice-cream.



At nine-ish when the rest took a break for dinner, he said: "hey, I saved you a piece of roast pork, eat it with some rice."



Actually he's quite sweet to most waitresses (except for a few whom he doesn't really like), and will always pass on some food, or help to bring the heavy food trays out to the elevators.



If only all ATs can be like him.

Darn Coffee

Work on Sunday started smoothly enough. I punched in late by 5 mins, and there were not many customers.


I don't think I've mentioned that I'm not a full-fledged waitress yet. Currently I'm known as the food runner. I work behind the scene, delivering food to the elevators (see previous post) and outside to the waitresses who'll do the serving. Hmmm.. something like a "ghost waitress"?


As a food runner, I'm also in charge of:

# making coffee
# making tea
# wiping the cutlery, saucers and side plates
# preparing the sauces


Anyway back to Sunday. All was rather quiet, until the first coffee order came in.


I was struggling to insert the filter holder with the coffee powder into the machine when the phone (the one which connects level one and two) rang. Downstairs asking about the coffee.


The German chef C answered the call. He paused for a few seconds, and said: "Coffee? Maybe it'll be ready tomorrow morning."


I looked over and he was looking at me with this typical arrogant look which comes so naturally to Germans. By this time I was still fumbling, and seething.


When the damn thing finally got in, I pressed the wrong button and espresso dripped out instead.


C walked over, calmly took over, and said: "This (button which shows half cup) is for espresso. This (button which shows full cup) is for coffee. You get the milk."


That was the first setback of the day.


Actually, making coffee and espressos are ok after a few practices. My nemesis are cappuccino and cafe latte, where milk foam is required.


I think I'll foam at the mouth first before the milk foams from the steamer, I just can't seem to get the knack of making nice foamy milk, and you know you don't get good cappuccinos and cafe lattes without the darn white bubbly thing.


And I realized there are generally more coffee orders on Sunday afternoons. So when the orders for cappuccinos and cafe lattes start pouring in, I made a mess at the coffee machine before I threw in the towel and S.O.Sed.


Meanwhile, the China chef L was laughing at my predicament. I gave him my flying daggers look and he smiled and said: "Patience, you need patience."


What's the trick to nice thick foam, anyone?!!

Notes that came up in the elevator

Yesterday was my third day at work.


The restaurant has two floors, an alfresco area on the ground, and an air-con set up on the second. The kitchen's on the second, and there're two food "elevators" which can send the dishes down to the first and vice versa.


Sometimes, service crew downstairs will pop notes into the elevator, e.g.


Please pack, thanks! (If customer wants to take away the leftovers)

More brown please! (If customer finds the brezn [german for pretzel] too pale. the german chef rolled his eyes at this request.)



Last night, after I sent a seafood platter down, it came back up a few minutes later, with this note attached:



Please grill/boil. The stupid bitch can't eat raw food.



Now, the seafood platter consists of smoked salmon, marinated tuna, marinated prawns, etc. and this is all clearly indicated in English in the menu.



A few of the chefs crowded around the platter and stared at the note.



The Filipina waitress tried to explain the meaning of the note. The chefs are mostly from China, Nepal and the Philippines.



They are all incredulous by this request. And indignant that they have to boil or grill the smoked and marinated food.



The final decision was to grill. As the Nepali chef turned away to work on the grill, he spat: "chao chee bye" (hokkien swear word for 'smelly cunt')



I was taken aback. Not by the swear words, but by the fact that he actually swears in hokkien! And doing it rather ah beng-ish.

Why I became a waitress

The FAQs. I can only think of three so far. Leave a comment if you would like to find out more.

How did it start?

It all began when I made a list of the things I want to do before the dreaded 3-0 decends upon me.

Top of the list was to be a waitress. Not very ambitious, and even a little (or very) bizarre for a 27-year-old with a full time job.

Well, I can only say it's something I feel like trying, so that's how I got into it. Simple as that.

Where are you working?

A german beer bar/ restaurant in town

Why there?

After movie one weekday night, my friend and I ate at the restaurant.

A plate of bockwurst, wedges and one pint of beer later, I had the sudden impulse to kick-start my waitressing plan. I pulled a waitress to my side and asked if they're hiring part timers. Yes.

And the rest, as they say, is history.