Fire a steak!

Hangar steak with pommes darphin, cauliflower-bone marrow puree and cucumber ribbons

The heat from the burner pinched my face.

I seared three hangar steaks. The oil sputtered as I turned the steaks to brown all sides. I put the steaks in the oven. The ones on the left and the middle of the sizzle platter would be medium rare---five minutes in the oven. The one on the right would be medium---seven minutes. I seared three more steaks and placed them in the oven. I tried to imprint in my mind: the one on the right would be medium well, nine minutes; the other two would be medium, seven minutes.

My group had switched to Saucier, the meat station, at L’Ecole, The French Culinary Institute’s restaurant. Mark and Alejandro were gone for this class. But Chef S let Henry fill in because he had worked at the Saucier station the last four classes.

The general rule was three minutes for rare and then an increase of two minutes for any temperature above that. But because Christopher and I kept opening and closing the oven, I usually had to cook the steaks longer.

After several minutes, I pulled three steaks out and poked them. They were too soft. I put them back in the oven. When they were done, I put them on the racks above me. The goal was to have steaks for all pending orders resting on racks before the expediter called for them. Then I could reheat the steaks in the oven and Henry could plate the dish.

Level 6 students who were one level higher than we were cooked duck breasts and pork chops. My classmate Christopher was responsible for the rabbit terrine. Shredded rabbit had been placed in a mold lined with strips of bacon. While Christopher just had to reheat a terrine, a grilled scallion and a potato fennel cake for an order, I had to make sure each steak was at the right level of doneness, as well as heat up a fried potato cake wedge, swipe the plate with cauliflower-bone marrow puree and warm through cucumber ribbons.

The expediter, a chef who was in charge of orders for the first time, flitted back and forth between our station and the front of the kitchen. Yelling “Order!” let me know I needed to get steaks ready and resting on a rack. Yelling “Fire!” meant I needed to reheat the steaks and plate them.

I noticed the expediter had crossed out a steak and a rabbit terrine for Table 9, meaning the order was “fired.” But I didn’t remember him saying “Fire.” I turned to Christopher and asked if he was cooking an order for Table 9.

“Yeah,” Christopher said, but he looked unsure.

I put a medium rare steak with a fried potato cake in the oven anyway. I placed a round plate in the oven to warm up. Hot food needed a hot plate. I warmed up cucumber ribbons on the flattop until the nob of butter in the pan melted.

“Jenny, I need the steak,” Henry said who had to slice it.

I took out the steak and gave it to him.

“That’s a good looking steak,” he said as he sliced it open.

I took the plate out of the oven and made an arc of cauliflower-bone marrow puree. I handed the scalding hot plate to Henry who placed the sliced steak on it. I ladled sauce over the steak and Henry dropped the cucumber ribbons on top.

More steak orders came in like an avalanche.

I opened and banged the oven shut as I reheated steaks. I grabbed two pans and seared more steaks. Holding a towel, I gripped a sizzle platter and felt the shock of severe heat through my third finger, making my left arm drop all the way to the floor.

“Ow!” I said and swore silently.

“Are you all right?” Christopher asked.

“Yeah,” I said, dashing to the sink to stick my finger under cold water. I ran back to my station.

My finger ached as I handed over more steaks to Henry to plate. A blister formed quickly on the tip of my finger.

I looked at the board. Some steak orders were crossed out, but I hadn’t heard the expediter fire anything. I shoved more steaks in the oven.

“Jenny, this steak isn’t even cooked,” Henry said after he sliced open one I had given him.

I put it back in the oven and handed him another steak to plate.

“Sauce. I need sauce,” Henry said.

I spun around, took the sauce container out of the hot water bath and ladled the rich sauce over the steak. Henry plopped the cucumber ribbons on it. We plated the other steak.

The expediter called out orders, but even Chef R, the instructor for Level 6 students, was getting confused. He went to the front to double-check.

He came back and said, “Fire two steaks medium and three medium-rare.”

Henry and I plated the two medium steaks that went with the duck and pork from Chef R’s Level 6 station.

Chef R showed up again, saying, “Just worry about the three medium-rare. We took one of the mediums for a later order.”

Turning to the board, Chef R said and pointed, “That order doesn’t exist. He (the expediter) forgot to wipe it off.”

“He’s kind of mixing and matching,” Chef R said under his breath.

The expediter came to our station and fired more orders. He looked tense, his eyebrows scrunched up. He rested his hands on his hips and exhaled. Looking chagrinned, he leaned forward and shook my elbow, giving me a wan, apologetic smile.

I looked at Henry with a puzzled WTF? look.

I grabbed more pans and seared more steaks. Heat from the burners pressed against my face, getting hotter and hotter and hotter. I bent down to open the stove, feeling more heat smother my face. I put more steaks in and took other steaks out. I poked the steaks, swiped cauliflower puree on plates and ladled sauce.

When the last order went up, I felt relieved.

“You did good, considering it was your first time and that guy was a total ---” said Henry, who glared at the front of the room. “You just have to watch your temperatures.”

I nodded and smiled, feeling a small glow of pride.



Rabbit terrine with grilled scallion and potato fennel cake