Free Sous Chef: 24 Hours on the Line by Michael Gibney

Gyutou—“Excalibur,” an old favorite—and your cutting board is smaller now. A quartet of two-quart Cambros flanks the board, and whole carrots and cornichons breeze beneath your knife from left to right, as with smooth strokes you convert the raw ingredients into usable food.
    The afternoon is finally beginning to coalesce. You’ve pushed through the chaos, established a sense of control over it. You’ve hit your rhythm. You are getting it done. You’ve been so efficient, in fact, that you’ve even found time to throw in a quick pan of filberts to toast for Chef—garnish for the terrine, which he said he would take care of, from A to Z—assuming that he would appreciate your contribution to the dish. Your eyes still dart here and there every now and again, but you feel for once as if you aregoing to make it out in time. A feeling of comfort comes over you.
    All of a sudden Chef’s meaty hands come thundering down on your shoulders and the comfort goes to smash. Your knife slips a bit, nearly snipping a pinky tip.
    “Talk to me,
papi
,” he says. “Where are we at?”
    “Looking good, Chef,” you say.
    “Ready by four-thirty?” he says.
    “
Oui
, Chef,” you say. “Always ready.”



GETTING THERE

    B EING THERE MEANS BEING READY . W HEN IT COMES TO SERVICE , being ready means having everything in its place by the time the first order comes in. On days like today, when you have a hefty prep list to contend with, getting there can be difficult. The only way to do it is to get a good rhythm going.
    A good rhythm is any method of working that promotes maximum productivity. The specific method will vary from task to task, but it always comprises some specific succession of steps—(a) followed by (b) followed by (c), etcetera—which you repeat over and over again.
    For simple jobs, this might be how you use your hands:
    (a) Left hand picks up pear
    (b) Right hand peels pear
    (c) Left hand places pear in acidulated water
    For something like whole animal butchery, the rhythm might be the way you choreograph your cuts:
    (a) Head
    (b) Feet
    (c) Wings
    (d) Legs
    (e) Thighs
    (f) Oysters
    (g) Breasts
    (h) Tenders
    (i) Pope’s nose
    For more complicated jobs, like
pommes fondant
, let’s say, it’s all about how you approach the project as a whole:
    (a) Peel all potatoes
    (b) Cut all potatoes into 5 × 25 mm coins
    (c) Sear all potatoes on one side in rondeau
    (d) Flip all potatoes
    (e) Deglaze rondeau with veal stock
    (f) Mount veal stock with butter
    (g) Season with salt, pepper, and aromatics
    (h) Remove all potatoes from rondeau
    (i) Cool all potatoes in prechilled hotel pan
    In all cases, you follow the sequence with precision. Not only does the repetition yield consistency, it also works to encourage speed. As your body acclimates to the motion, you naturally do it more quickly. You begin to move like a machine, without even having to think about it. And the less you have to think about it, the more brain space you have to look into the future. Like a skilled billiards player, you begin anticipating your next move and the oneafter that, so that when one task is done, you don’t waste time trying to figure out what follows. You move seamlessly between activities, shaving precious seconds off the overall time it takes to complete your mise en place. Before you know it, you’re scratching items off your prep list in droves.
    Today your rhythm has been brilliant; you’ve been a paragon of efficiency. Chef threw a vicious curveball at you with all these complicated specials, but you’ve knocked it out of the park. It’s 1600 now—an hour before service starts—and you are already almost there. You take a moment to recap what you’ve accomplished.
    The carrots are done. After you pureed them you passed the substance through a
tamis
sieve and it came out smooth as silk, bright orange, absolutely scrumptious. It is the essence of carrot. The mustard dressing for the potatoes is done. You shaved just