I’ll never forget my first true line job. It was in New Orleans, at the height of Mardi Gras, and I worked the fryer and garde manger stations. The cooks were too close for comfort, the room was hot and sweaty, and adrenaline and drugs made the atmosphere seem like a Lewis Carroll-inspired fever dream. I still have scars on my arms — tattoo-like memories from frying ingredients that went into probably every dish that went out the kitchen window. (And, incidentally, one who spent 18 years behind bars for murder before coming to work at the restaurant.)

Source: Los Angeles Times June 08, 2018 22:18 UTC