Clear the Rail

“Clear the Rail”

By

 Autumn M. Brock

Flying through the breezeway hall into the back of house slapped with smells of soup, a smorgasbord of cooking and rising heat. Sounds changed from buzzing conversation to the bang of equipment, taps of dishware and the defined command or response from both sides of the line which inevitably flew covers in and out of this speed zone. Once through the threshold front of house staff transformed from polite amiable hosts to the more realistic versions of pestered humans they were. This often left the kitchen staff to act as snarky malcontents. Each server had the consuming goal of expediting multiple complex orders to their guests. All that stood in their way were other servers, who also had the same time constraints, and the kitchen staff.

This delicate dance thrummed a pace of chaos, always accompanied by the demon of new tickets spewing from the printer. Food hit plates, slid along the line and was dressed by artistic garnish. Up it went to the hot deck and held its breath for a moment before collection. Arms, hands and elbows flipped up and down, jostling for position and tray space to create a perfect balance before a shoulder hoist would ride them down the breezeway and out of present memory.

Water and bread were delivered, drinks and meals for three fresh multi-tops were entered into the POS, a full section was biding time before salads, appetizers then mains dropped. New salads should hit the line in 5 minutes. Drinks would be delivered by Cocktail, so Linn sipped a lukewarm cup of soup. She’d poured it an hour ago then stashed it on a high shelf behind the coffee mugs as service picked up. She watched the chefs dance grill and sauté stations, robotically grabbing a tool or reaching for ingredients. They stepped back from the burners, raising searing pans off the flames and reached for tongs, knives or spatulas with one of six hands they seemed to possess, then spun around to plate.

Amid the fired orders, calls, responses and demands for refreshed mise from the way back to the line, there was also discussion of drinks and poker later. Sous chef Rachel raised two direct hazel eyes over the hot window shelf as she sauced pasta with a pan of alfredo, ‘Any chance a pitcher will walk back here soon?’

‘I’ll ask Cocktail to mention it to Woody.’ Linn said. ‘What’s the buy in?’

’Twenty. Bring whiskey, yeah? After closing we’ll all head to Todd’s.’ Her eyes darted back down briefly, and two chicken alfredo’s hit the deck for Expo to check with a polite dish spin. He moved them together with two rib eyes and a top sirloin which had been up for a minute. His ticket hit this collection and Expo stepped forward so the server could have space to take their tray. The swish of rapid-fire printing spit two more chits up and grill chef Todd snatched them from over the top of Rachels shoulder as she dipped down and returned to her simmering sauté pans.

‘Walk 23!’ Expo called.

‘Table 17. Three Special, One Pasta Prima, Well Loin drags that. Table 3. Sockeye, and One Med Prime all day!’

‘Heard Chef.’ Chorused the round of distinct voices. Todd fed the tickets into the rail line and spun to start searing meat.

Linn kicked herself off the counter, dropped her empty cup of soup in a tub and grabbed a tray, sliding into place on the salad pass to the right after another cover walked inches from her nose. She reached for plate after plate of salad and appetizers sitting ready for her. She counted seven, placed them evenly around the tray, jockeying the edges of the dishes to lock steady and save space.

‘Extra side of ranch, please.’ Line cook Dave immediately hit a ramekin on the pass, and she brought it down to the correct plate, shoving a little greenery aside to make it fit. Steady hand on the tray, Linn bucked her knees down and guided the entire circus to her shoulder then walked. Another server took her space immediately.

It was a few minutes before she came back down the breeze with a collection of completed plates and a few empty glasses on the tray. She paused at the rack and without malice sorted them to specific tubs for Dish pickup. Silverware in a pile to the side, plates to the middle and water glasses right beside them. Bar glasses like the heavy highballs, pints and delicate martinis were stowed in the lowest rack; they would be run straight up front for a clean turnaround by the barback.

She wiped the tray, tossed the spent napkin into the linen hamper and leaned the stand into line with its mates against the wall, stowing the tray on a shelf for its next trip. She washed her hands off in a sink and grabbed a fresh cloth napkin. She was tucking it into her belt and stepping in queue for a hot line pickup, already eyeing available dishes for whichever ticket was going to make up her next steps. She had an idea which it should be but there was always a temp specification or ingredient request which might lag items on the deck. Expo Matt would decide when a ticket was fulfilled and could walk.

‘Behind, behind, behind.’ came the call as Dish scuttled through the mayhem of salad/fry, fish, sauté and grill stations. He was restocking pans, spatulas, spoons, tongs and knives with marked efficiency as each station continued cooking. He reached across backs and under arms, tucking a fresh utensil here and there, setting them on to specific hooks and locations, stowing clean pans and pots to low shelves. He managed to be wherever that station chef presently was not and then he was gone, disappeared to the way back and steam of the dish section.

‘Pitcher fired. Shouldn’t be long’ Linn told Rachels back. She saw a small nod and Todd glanced toward her with a relieved smile.

He grabbed up a carving knife and turned for the prime rib drawer. Setting a plate into position, he secured, sliced, au jus dipped then maneuvered that thick cut into position. Rachel turned with a pan of marinara and was pouring it over noodles as he shut the meat drawer, which jostled the carving knife and Todd tried to save it from falling. Rachel moved for a spatula to get the last of the sauce out.

Linn had seen one hundred thousand passes same as this. It was always smooth when people and the hot things boogied about. And this was no different than any other she could remember. Only this time, the symbiosis glitched and that 10-inch carving knife was suddenly impaled through Rachel's hand. It slid between the middle and ring finger when she reached for the spatula, embedding through the palm as though passing through hot butter and poking an inch of pale steel clean out the other side.

The two chefs froze, momentarily trapped together by momentum's. Todd dropped his knife, though it didn’t go anywhere now. Rachel dropped the hot pan with a muted clatter onto the mats at their feet; marinara spattered.

She didn’t cry out, just looked at the offending object juxtaposed oddly through her body. She held her arm very stiff. Color greyed out of her flushed skin and all eyes refocused from whatever task they had been on to her.

‘Ethan, Manager.’ That was the only order. It came sternly but quietly from Expo Matt who delicately took his hand off the plate he’d been inspecting and moved through the pass doors to join the two chefs in the kitchen.

Beside her Linn saw Ethan make a hasty retreat toward the front of house. While she was frozen the better thought of action was already working through her. ‘Towel!’ She heard her own word and threw that fresh napkin off her belt through the hot pass window.

Todd’s hand went up and snagged the flying linen while reaching for Rachel, mostly to steady her as she started to step back near the fryer. He obviously wasn’t sure if she might catch herself. He pulled her vertical, and tightened his grip on her wrist, wrapping the towel expertly around the protruding knife. She eased her arm toward her body like she was cradling a child but kept the pressure.

Now there wasn’t blood as might be expected but Linn could see red pooling around and through the cloth lacing Rachel's palm.

‘Eyes on me.’ Todd said so he and Matt could guide her past the hottest area of the kitchen toward the dish racks. ‘Ben watch the grills.’ The line cook edged to his left, turning down knobs to gain extra time he felt was needed.

One breath later and Manager Sean came barreling down the breezeway with Ethan in tow. He went straight through the pass doors, into the back to assess this situation.

Linn stared at Matt beyond the pass window, he was wide eyed focused on her too and all the staff presently in the area were stuck in place. He suddenly reached through the pass and thrust a stack of tickets toward Linn. ‘Keep it moving. Linn, take Expo.’

Suddenly they all started again. Linn read tickets, pulled plates, servers walked. It was almost like nothing was happening. Sean could be heard in the back telling Todd he was taking Rachel to the ER; she would be fine. Finish the service.

As Todd and Matt stepped back to their respective lines the printer was already whirring another round of orders out. The tension broke upon continued expectations. He grabbed the new chits like a zombie and read off, ‘Tables 5, 12, 18. Two Prima Vera, Black Chick Alfredo, Three Prime Med, One Top Rare, Swordfish. Three calamari all day. Let’s clear this rail!’

‘Yes Chef!’ Pans clattered against burners, utensils clacked, the chorus sang.

Woody walked down from the bar pass door none the wiser with that pitcher of cold beer. They always said it was for the fish & chip batter, only it wasn’t. As usual he’d also brought 6 small cold glasses – for the batter.

‘Gimme!’ Dave stepped around the salad window and towed the prizes from the bartender’s arms into the back of the house. ‘I might actually win at cards tonight.’

Matt dropped a completed ticket onto another grouping of plates and Linn stepped back to her space in the line, server once again. She pulled a tray up and with shaky hands began steadying plates for her next cover. Service was nearly over; the kitchen staff had their shift beers and were adjusting positions to cover their missing Sous. The rest of the staff in front of the house wouldn’t hear a peep of this until closing.

The End