Holy Apostles Soup Kitchen: A Stagiaire’s experience…

Someone smart from ancient Greece once said that every good deed is inherently done with selfish intentions.  Or, at least something close to that, I dunno...  Philosophy was hard and I cook now so shut up.  Just sayin’ there is merit to what he said.

At their core, everyone in hospitality exist to serve others.  To what degree and whether or not pandering to guests is a high priority varies from douche-bag restaurants that do not take reservations (and make you wait 1.5 hours for a table) to amazing little known small town guys who remain off the radar but truly put the guests' experience on the front burner (The New Dundee Emporium). 

 The best in the industry know to anticipate guest needs and to be proactive towards each individual.  The endeavor to give their guests a perfect experience should be every hospitality workers main ideology. 

The best part of being a cook is the instant gratification. You show up (sober), plan a menu, prep, produce, pump out and have (drunk) people thank you for an awesome time.   Generally, guests that can afford to eat at the spots I cook at are really nice peeps.  In Canada, Chefs are respected professionals and it’s a plus to mention you cook when talking with sexually magnificent hotties, bodies, er, MY WIFE!.  We’re fortunate because we do not have any obvious economic class division.   I love how I can cook for people who happen to be worth billions but then have an insightful chat about their personal vineyards afterword.  “Yeah, I have the SAME mould problem as your grapes, only in my bedroom walls….”.

 Other areas I have visited and spent time in a kitchen, Cooks are often regarded like second class citizens.  It’s sad.  Guests look at them with the same expression you would give your caller ID when it shows a telemarketer.   In 13 years I have only had two experiences where I was made to feel less than totally awesome wearing whites.  First was a Bay Street Lawyer who publicly lectured me on the methods of a proper lobster bisque; “Iiiiii liiiikkkeee to use the insides of the lobster…. Do you know what thats called?”

Moi;  “Ah, lobster bisque 101 AND WHY WON’T YOU MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH ME???”.

 And second, there is nothing fun about having a shithead ten year old snap his fingers at you to make an omelet.  In hindsight, I should totally have taken him. 

This brings me to what really is the heart of passion in hospitality.  Recently, while on a grand tour doing big stagiaires at some of the world’s most blahblabblabhblahblah, my schedule unexpectedly opened up for a day.  A whole day of nothing.  Except I was in NYC and if there was one thing I wanted to do without the need for a new line of credit, it was to experience time in a soup kitchen.

To me, nothing is more gratifying then to serve those that most appreciate what they’re receiving.  It’s a selfish magical experience.  You feel really good about yourself while concurrently helping people who are in a position you could not imagine being in. What pierces into me every time and anywhere I have been is more often than not, they look you right in the eyes and thank you.  It’s both a positive and heart aching moment. You look past the rough hides and speculated back stories, to see the honest sincerity they give back. It exerts some of the finest points of human essence at its purist.

So there I was at 9:00 am in New York.  I was sipping a designer Americano and walking towards Holy Apostles Soup Kitchen when I turned the last corner to find a lineup of 200 people deep, obviously waiting for the place to open.  These were not the volunteers and the kitchen opened at 10:30.  

SOooo here's the thing, and I am totally not to cool to admit this, but what the hell, honest writing is good writing. 

I quickened my pace, avoided eye contact, and walked right past the kitchen and line up.    

Um…

Okay.

Let me just say, if I had been standing in that lineup of 200 people… You would pick me out if you heard that Sesame Street Songs that goes; “One of these things is not like the other. One of these things is just not the same…”
Awful right?

I walked past while asking what had I gotten myself into. I turned the corner a block later and hated the timid bed wetter in me.  These people are hungry now.  They have no time for uptown issues I have. I did believe these guests are fundamentally better then me.  They deserve the best. Nobody knew I was here doing this.  Nobody would ever know if I never went. But I would. Talk is cheap. Time to walk.  

I turned around, politely cut through the line and entered the church.

Do you know how many people the 30 daily volunteers feed in 2 hours? We had an average day, 1221.

I walked in and spoke with someone with a wire sticking from their ear and said I was a “Chef from a big hotel in Toronto”. They were thankful, gave a smile/smock and instructed me to wait for the position details to be announced. 

I was given highest volunteer honors by being assigned as Champion Protein Server* in the lead production line ("Jerek, Protein, Line 1!") . 

It was frigging hard. Carpal tunnel will catch up to me anytime now.

To my utter surprise, the paid Chef and regular volunteers take their jobs really serious.  Like, Asshole michelin place serious.  After sensing the stern vibe, I became concerned I may not perform precisely as they required and consequently would be yelled at.  Luckily, I was stationed next to an adorable, but hapless primary school teacher who bore the brunt of their venting and so I was spared. 

:(

Honesty making good writing,

…I should say I also passively screwed him a little by moving quicker then he could do his job cleanly.  

Sorry man, I never said I was a good guy.

There are places like Apostles Soup Kitchen everywhere.  You love to cook?  Go.  Like me, this is where you may find your core values as a human being. 

Next blog update is August 18th, 2012.

-Jerek