firehorserider

adventures with Henk the Buell

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Celebrating people, ideas & things that make the world a better place. Kitchen Chemistry, Social Alchemy, Adventure Activism.

Friday, August 12, 2005

Ten in the morning in Dawson City feels like six. Noon feels like eight. Eight pm feels like four and midnight feels like eight. It’s hard to go to bed when the sun’s still shining. And it’s hard to rise for a six am breakfast shift! I guess I’ll never be a morning person, especially in the land of the midnight sun.

I almost deep-fried my fingers tonight. I was trying to fish out a stray french fry or two with a slotted spoon who’s handle was clearly not long enough. It’s my throttle hand, too, which I need to ride south. There is a one-armed trike rider here in town, though. I haven’t been able to catch up with him to check out his system.

I made an order of fish and chips for a customer and got tipped five bucks. “Give this to the chef,” he told the waitress, after tipping her too. I howled. This is the easiest thing in the world to prepare: walk to freezer, extract three frozen fish sticks, walk back, throw sticks and potatoes in the deep fryer, wait five minutes, serve with a little tartar sauce. In Banff, I would get up at the crack of dawn and lovingly (most days) prepare healing organic vegetarian food from scratch. The waiters and waitresses always complained about the tips. I can’t remember once someone handing one of them a five and saying “Give this to the chef.” Go figure.

I’m actually enjoying the action of the kitchen again. I never thought I’d hear myself say that. When I sold my place five years ago I was so burned out I vowed never to do another restaurant again. It’s impossible to do more than eke out a living for yourself with slim profit margins. Food costs are variable and wages kill. But it gets in your blood. I enjoy the warmth of a kitchen and the movement. If things are in synch, it can be a delightful dance around the raw ingredients and hot pots and spices and fire, and magic can happen. If things are not in synch, it can be hell. I’ve missed my kitchen and I just realized that today. Perhaps there’s another restaurant in my future after all…

It’s one in the morning and it’s finally dark. A man beside me (in the next room) is vibrating the walls with his snoring. I believe it’s an RCMP officer. Henk’s outside tucked in between two cruisers. They’re up from Whitehorse for “Discovery Days” this weekend. I have the weekend off, so between learning how to bluff at Diamond Tooth Gertie’s and watching 4 x 4 races in the mud bog, it promises to be a wild time.

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