Snow melts into an explosion of lush greens. Work is done. Over the grill two chalet chefs causally tend to spring creations. A BBQ to say goodbye.
The season is done, new friends are full of emotion from the looming goodbyes. Red peppers blister, charred black skins begin to flake, a mish mash of winter follower tans soak up UV rays, beer and sangria. Vegetables known by as many names as there are nationalities present take grill markings. Aberguine rounds sizzle in olive oil and north Africian seasonings, courgette lengths wrinkle and soften over wood embers. Asparagus spears crisp, oily goodness flows from frazzled chorizo and soaks into eggplant. Halved balsamic soaked cherry tomatoes sing a deglazing tune on the hot plate. Rouquette and baby spinach leaves jump with Bouchon de chevre. All together now a warm veggie salad melds into a gooey messy.
Party goers pick and licking their finger with appreciative murmurs.
Armed with; good wishes, “je suis le cuisinier. Je coupe chose avec un couteau et je les cuisine,” a cardboard sign – NICE, 150 euro and a thumb I head towards the Riveria.
Days spent meeting crew agents and wandering the docks begging for work leave me depressed and dejected on a train to my tentsite. I see a Chamonix acquaintance hoping off the train. He gives me a number to call. A boat in Cannes needs ten day-workers for two days. I make it on the list. Rising Sun, the second biggest private yacht (at the time) – part of a mine is bigger than yours competition between the super rich.
After six hours polishing stainless to perfection. “The last day-workers did all the stainless in a day, I am not that happy.” The Dutch man’s statement witty only to himself does nothing for the morale. The Kiwi third mate grabs a rag and joins in. Dutchie ends the day. “Don’t come back tomorrow unless you have non marking shoes.”
Day two; polishing, abuse, mocking and not even a free meal. I count out euro cents for a baguette and a tomato at lunch. The day ends, envelopes come out –my first boat cash. I splurge on a train ticket, beer and a burger and can pay next weeks campground fees.
As I become desperate again an old sea dog Saffa gets me a varnish prep job. I scrape by. No prospects of cooking work. An Asian airline hostess looking to make the transition to stew suggests a one-man crew agency.
In Antibes I locate the blue door adorned with a stylish silver plaque. Round the spiral staircase and enter his territory. A couple waits in comparative paradise to the crew agency standard – a line trailing out the door. Confused “Adrian Fisher?”
“We just called him, apparently he won’t be long.” With a shrug I join the opulent environment.
“What are you lot doing here?” Not ready for the attack. “Umm, wanted to sign up, do you have a registration form or something?” Meek. Gesticulating contempt “What do you do, have you worked on boats before?”
“I don’t deal with people who have no experience, I only work with experienced crew.” The negative jittery response crushed.
“How about you two?” he sounds like he is accusing the cute couple of trespassing. “Ar, we rang you before, we made an appointment to see you.” Slightly restrained he begrudgingly accepts “Oh, ok.”
My corner position shielded me from the initial onslaught. Now I am in his sights
“And you, what do you want?” I stand up. “Well, Sir, I heard you were an excellent agent with interesting techniques.” I sit back feeling militant. “Oh did you just. Where did you hear that?” Perched half squat over my chair “From, um, friends.” Clearly he states orders “Well you two wait I wont be long, and you lot leave I told you I don’t take people with no experience.”
Bemused. “Is he for real? Should we go? Do you have experience?” Disbelief of the unnerved replaces boring yachtie chitchat. I nervously thumb through a yachting magazine. I see a sly white-haired mans picture, an article written by the one-boat-one-resume crew agent on crew placement.
“What are you still doing here I told you to go!” He snaps
“Huh, don’t you even want to see a CV or something?”
“Ok then hurry up.” An impatient hand insists.
A brief glance and he shoos the two inexperienced lads out the door.
“How about you two?”
“Huh, ar what do you mean.”
“Have you worked on boats before?” Waving paper he snatches my resume. “Do you have experience?” Blue/gray eyes pierce
“Very little.”
A sighing humpff, he toddles off. We all remain, silenced but for a murmur between the couple. Is he for real?
Like a headmaster patrolling the halls we sense his presence.
“Stop wasting my time, get out.” The lads leave
He moves to the couple thrashing CV’s “Did you copy this from each other? They are identical.”
“No, well, we have been working in the same places.” With a look of is this our interview appointment.
“Well what kind of job are you looking for? Will you work separately?”
Hiding inside the magazine my presence occurs. “Anything good in that?”
I stand “Well, yes sir, as a matter of fact an interesting article on crew placement by you.” “Oh is that so.” He pauses and a smile passes the wry lips.
“Ok you two come with me.” The couple trot down the hall.
Waiting.
The couple is shooed out the door with dismal prospects. The slicked back white strands wave around to the flutters of my menus.
“Have you cooked all of these?”
Yes
“How many times?”
Ar, um, I don’t know a lot. You liked my menus?
“Lets go out to the balcony. I have more questions.”
“Are you trained?”
“I was lucky enough to work for some good chefs.”
“So its only on the job training. Ok, who? Where is that in here? Where is the training?”
Kind of point to the mobile CV. “Ar, at edgewater resort in Lake Wanaka, Sargoods Restaurant for Andrew Spegiel.”
“What type of chef?”
French trained by a renowned French Americain chef. In Portland.
“Eighteen months, is that all the training?”
“No. I started washing dishes at 13, worked hard and asked lots of questions. The chefs liked that. Brain Ross a Scottish chef for eighteen months also.”
“So tell me how good is your food.”
“I was lucky enough to work under some good very good chefs.”
“What kind of chef are you? Rate yourself? Are you Michelin star? Well you’re not, but are you five, 4 or 3 star.” Relentless, smoke all around me.
“Uh, mm. I would like to think some of my dishes are near Michelin star level and if in the right environment with the right team it would be a goal to achieve that level”.
“Ok, this is a six star industry, ok now, your appearance. You need to be looking like a professional, not like a day worker.”
“Day working is how I have been surviving.”
He sits
“Now your family tell me about them, how long since you seen them.”
Almost two years.
“That is a long time. Are you missing them?”
“Yes.”
“How long until you need to see them?”
“Um. Sooner rather than later, when the situation permits.”
“Love life, are you attached?
“No.”
“Not anyone, anywhere.”
“No.”
“Ok, come talk to me tomorrow and do something about your shoes.”
In my best gears, very smart for a scruffy snowboarder living out of a backpack in a studio with 8 others. “You look much better today” He decides to organize me an interview.
The meeting at Jacque’s teahouse goes well. I am offered the opportunity to trial for a day, a buffet lunch and a plated dinner for the crew. I immediately call Adrian as instructed and wander up the road for debrief. Charged from the third caffeine hit of the afternoon, I am relaxed compared to the Fisher ecstatic he’s guiding a young chef into the industry.
Excited and nervous but full of confidence, “good luck” thanks I don’t need any of that. My menu consists of dishes I made working for Andrew with a couple of extras. Planning and shopping for two meals for a crew of eight takes forever as I take pleasure in every detail. Hunting ripe avocados, is the market best for everything? Three supermarkets and the open-air morning market laden I await permission to board.
Into the galley, look professional. “Ah did you mean to have the oven on cleaning cycle.”
The pasta water begins to boil after what seemed like two hours on heat, finally I don’t need to open every cupboard to find anything.
I plate; Cesar salad, with Cajun chicken, rocket pesto tagliatelle with roast mushrooms,
asparagus and roast peppers, chorizo avocado and cherry tomato salad.
Near perfect timing, happy with the way it looks. Around the crew mess table the captain and chief stew husband-wife-team dominate the subordinates.
Awkward chitchat; hobbies, sports, food and practical jokes.
The stew’s had been undone by “Can you go get me a long stand from the salon?”
Captain can barely get it out, “Send a green horn deckie up the mast to fend of a low bridge.”
I offer, “Get a commis chef to chop flour.”
Cleanup onto dinner prep.
Lemongrass and ginger panna cotta asks the eternal question. How much gelatin do I use? Pears in the red wine with a weird selection of seeds and spices, no point to stress, so I wrap the salmon portions in nori looking composed.
“How you getting on?”
“All good pretty much ready.”
“Oh great that means you would have time to make food for crew now.”
Obsessively tasting everything stuck having to serve my gummy sesame tuiles and weird-spice pears. The talking point, wasabi mash and the complements flow; this is the kind of food I would order in a restaurant, very creative, I have never had wasabi mash before.
The job is mine, they just haven’t offered it to me yet. A subordinate asks “Will you be doing it all again tomorrow.” I look at the chief stew and stutter, “ah, I, um, well we need to talk.” Noooo, rewind I meant I would love to.
My feet hurt.
Nori Salmon
Andrew created this play with sushi ingredients. A dish that sounds and looks much harder than it is, a great show off course.
Portion fish into square shapes
Dip nori sheets in water quickly to soften enough to make pliable
Season fish lightly and wrap trimming off any excess nori
Place on baking dish or tray greased lightly with sesame oil
Wasabi mash
Boil potatoes whole in skins until very tender then pass through a potato press or mill (otherwise you will have to peel) add plenty of butter some cream and milk, salt pepper and prepared wasabi (fresh is incredible but powdered is fine) taste and adjust to your liking.
Shitake slaw
Juilliene or shred some diakon, pickled ginger, carrot, cabbage and dress with citrus, yuzu or sudachi are great but a mix of lime, lemon and orange juice makes a good substitute.
Slice shitake mushrooms thin and cook very quickly in a smoking hot pan with a little sesame oil add to the slaw while still hot and mix well. Finish with plently of ketcap manis (sweet soy).
