Surrogate Mother's Day

Mother’s Day Eve and rather than sleeping, I’m journaling and listening to the new Foo Fighters, just loud enough to inspire, but not distract. I’ll be opening my day with this while I walk the newest one through brunch, a shift that contains the two most stressful hours of the week, during which we run both brunch and dinner simultaneously in a kitchen that was hardly built to handle the volume of either one at the level we’ve been pumping.  

She’s nervous, and I’ve spent some time assuaging her fears.  It’s “new cook” jitters, and I assure her she’ll be fine.  We’ll be fine.  Sure, we have maybe fifty reservations on the books, probably more.  We have a fairly new wait staff, a brand new dish staff, and not a clue what to expect. But we will be fine. 

We've had a lot of line cooks come through the restaurant, and I’ve coached each of them through this challenge of shifts, always to satisfactory ends. I want to see them succeed. I want to watch them "get it" and improve until they take control and own their position, learning to stand as they grow into the confidence they need to hold this down. They make me proud when they fly on their own, working like a team without me holding their hands. She’ll be no different. She has the arrogant self-assuredness that do we all, that dare-devilish rebellion which allows us to fearlessly play with sharp objects and light things on fire. 


I can’t wait to see her succeed tomorrow when I put her up to bat. 

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