Chef Crack

In no way at all referring to cocaine or any other kind of drug for that matter. Chef Crack may be more commonly known as Chaffing of the Ass. This is an affliction most commonly suffered by Chefs.

It happens because you are in a hot sweaty kitchen, standing up all day and doing a lot of walking around. At the end of a long day you are more than likely going to be walking around like a cowboy.

There are only 2 known cures for Chef Crack both as scary as each other. I say that as each method involves throwing at least one hand down the back of your strides and they never come out the same as they went in.

The first method is 3B cream which is a good relief when you get home, but the most effective on the job cure is a nice handful of cornflour right in the valley, works every time.

If you have ever spent more than a day in a kitchen you will know what I'm talking about.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year

This is the time of year that is usually the most hated by chefs and other hospitality professionals. You will probably find that most chefs have worked nearly every personal milestone and family related holiday since they started their apprenticeship.

I started my apprenticeship the day I finished year 12, missing schoolies and continued to work on my 18th, my 21st and 25th birthdays, every christmas, new years and rugby league grand final and state of origin.

So I understand all you poor under paid and under appreciated chefs and assorted hospitality professionals working this christmas and new years. So all the best and I will be back writing this crap again in 2010.

Excuses

My first excuse is for not updating this blog for ages, and the excuse is that I was moving house and for those of you that have ever moved, it bites the big one. However this post is not to tell you about moving house.

As a chef trainer at an international hospitality school in Brisbane I was fortunate enough to hear excuses from all over the world. Excuses for being late, for not doing assignments, for not showing up to class, for all different kinds of things.

Just for the record "The bus was late chef" only cuts the mustard two or three hundred times before you just snap a little and decide to have a bit of fun with em. It got to the point where I would lock the class door 5 minutes after the class had officially started and then wait until there was a good bank of late Indians in the hallway, the next step is to make them stand in front of the class and come up with an excuse that I hadnt heard before.

If they came up with a good one I would let them stay, if not I would make them go away until the halfway break of the lesson.

Cowboys and Indians

The future of the Australian Hospitality Industry lies in the title of this post. A large percentage of the chefs around the country are cowboys with little skill and limited knowledge of methods of cookery. With many of the private hospitality schools around the country acting as permenent residency sausage factories for Indian students at a massively inflated price, you are likely to see huge numbers of under qualified Indian cooks running the kitchens of Australia.

More about this in my book 'Dish Pig' Due for ebook release January 2010.

Netta Schnubart Vixa

After working at a 5 Star Casino in the Northern Territory for 12 months I had come in contact with back packers from all over the world, all different cultures and languages. Even a large portion of the chefs were from other countries.

I worked with a German Executive Chef and also a lot of German backpackers came and went through the time I was there as function waiters.

I had all of these languages and cultures to learn from and I can assure you that I took advantage. I spent a long time learning a particular phrase in German to pass onto my Executive Chef to let him know just how much I loved his little visits into my kitchen.

That phrase was Netta Schnubart Vixa (please excuse my spelling of these words). Or to translate into English " Nice Moustache Wanker" As you can see I didnt waste the opportunity to learn from my experience.

No Doz

It was Melbourne Cup day 2005. I was working at one of Melbournes 5 Star Hotels and had a big night out planned with some of the boys from the kitchen. I was working afternoon shift so I had to wait until about 8:30 to get out. One of the guys I was heading out with ("Shippa") had been at the cup all day and had drunk himself retarded.

In order to keep his plans and make it out to the pub with me and the other lads 'Shippa' stopped in at a seven eleven to purchase some No Doz tablets as a bit of a reviver. Not content with taking one tablet 'Shippa' downed the whole pack.

We didnt hear from 'Shippa' that night but found that he had spent the evening in the hospital with heart palpitations. Funniest shit I ever heard!

Foot Long Of Fear Part 2

So there I was, left with a choice. Do I eat the soiled sanga or do I deliver it with force to the back of Chef's head? Well the answer my friend is I went with column B. I put all the force I could muster behind that 9 and a quater inch sandwich and let it go.

I remember watching the sandwich sailing through the air surprisingly aerodynamic in its speed and accuracy. Even though I hit him fair in the back of the head it really didnt give me the satisfaction that I would have had eating the sandwich without the offending gas occuring.

It smelled like a mixture of rotten meat and burnt dog hair in that room for about 3 days after.

Register your interest in my new book "DISH PIG" at thomasdishpig@hotmail.com

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