Chefdog, Brisket and I got into a USAVE.COM van and drove a kitchen out to a house in Lexington. It was my first catering job, so I rode on a crate between the front two seats. They did not USAVEMEASEAT.COM. It was my first catering job, so I did the chores that the two men did not find satisfying. I did them adequately. I had a good time. It was a humbling experience and I have much respect and admiration for the kitchen.
On unloading the van, at 11:30PM Friday night, illegally parked so as to use the alley behind the restaurant… I have a dolly that is packed fulled of kitchen equipment. So does Mister Brisket. Chef cautions, “Brisket you got some serious weight stacked up on the front, and on top you’ve got a box of knives.” I am struggling to pull my dolly through the alley when Chef asks if I can take the tent “tambien.” He throws it atop my piled high dolly, and I take three or four more steps before everything crashes to the ground. Mixing bowls and service platters clang and crash to the ground. I look at Chef and say, “I was right there with you until that last ‘tambien.'”
Now, the pictures… this is me, in white chef coat and apron, behind the grill. I did not grill anything on the job, but I did slice vegetables and open oysters. I tossed a salad. I dalloped whipped cream. None of that is apparent from this shot. But I look like an angel because of the lighting:
Here is Brisket rolling a charcoal burrito out of the grill at the end of the night. Looks like he is smoking it:
And here is Chefdog himself, in the tent at night, taken from the van:
no more hog processing plants in the Carolinas, no more people “processing” hogs, no more hogs at Lexington BBQs. that is my request to the angel.