supposed confidence a few times a week, for fun. Later, when it comes
back to me it provides an interesting road map of data transfer, a barium
meal, revealing who squeals and to whom. There are a number of
interesting variations on this practice—feeding false information to a
known loudmouth, for instance, with a particular target in mind. A lot of
what I hear is utterly useless, untrue and uninteresting. But I like to keep
myself informed. You never know what might prove useful later.
Twelve noon and already customers are pouring in. I get a quick kick in
the crotch right away: an order for porc mignon, two boudins, a liver and
a pheasant all on one table. The boudins take the longest, so they have to
go in the oven right away. First, I prick their skins with a cocktail fork so
they don't explode, grab a fistful of caramelized apple sections and throw
them in a sauté pan with some whole butter for finishing later. I heat a
pan with butter and oil for the pork, fling a thick slab of calves' liver into
a pan of flour after salting and peppering it, heat another sauté pan with
butter and oil for that. While the pans are heating, I take half a pheasant
off the bone and lay it on a sizzle-platter for the oven, spinning around to
fill a small saucepan with the port sauce to reduce. Pans ready, I sear the
pork, sauté the liver—the pork goes straight into the oven on another
sizzler—the hot pan I degrease, deglaze with wine and stock, add pork
sauce, a few garlic confit, then put aside to finish reducing and mounting
later. The liver half-cooked, I put aside on another sizzler. I sauté some
chopped shallots, deglaze the pan with red wine vinegar, give it a shot of
demi-glace, season it and put that aside too. An order for mussels comes
in, with a breast of duck order right after. I throw on another pan for the
duck, load a cold pan with mussels, tomato coulis, garlic, shallots, white
wine and seasoning. The mussels will get cooked à la minute and
finished with butter and parsley.
More orders come in. It's getting to be full-tilt boogie time: another
pheasant, more pork, another liver, and ouch! a navarin—a one-pot
wonder but requiring a lot of digging around in my 192 low-boy for all
the garnishes. The key to staying ahead on a busy station is moving on a