Wow. I left my house to go to work at 1:30 pm on Wednesday, and got back home a day and a half later, 4 am Thursday night. Now it’s 5 AM and I’m lying in bed, listening to music, texting trash talk in Spanish with a Mexican guy I used to work with, and writing this.

So what happened is this. In the restaurant world, we do things different from people who work regular hours like bankers and 9-to-5 folks. We can’t hang out with the more proper part of society, because we’re cooking for them, so we basically hang out with each other, and whoever else is up in the wee hours of the morning. So being up all the time through the crazy hours, naturally we get a little crazy ourselves. Everyone knows chefs are crazy. That has a lot of effect on our creativity, I think. Like, if we lived so rigid and uptight, how could we be creative?

Anyway, happy hour for restaurant people is 11 pm to 4 am, because those are our after-work hours. But for me, it starts at 1 or 2 AM, because that’s when my restaurant closes – we’re a late-night shop. Service at my place is a marathon. It starts early, and on busy nights we go nonstop until midnight, and then it’s time to start closing down.

So we’ve got this Guatemalan dishwasher who might be the most chilled-out person in the entire operation. (I’m probably #5 or #6 at the moment, because I’ve learned to not stress in the kitchen, but I’m still fairly new there, and in the process of moving up.)

So this guy wanted to go have a drink with me and the guy who works with me on the garde-manger (salad station – where you usually start when you move to a different restaurant). I was like, “alright, we’ll go have a drink, or whatever. See what happens”.

What ended up happening was very funny. We were at the bar and the sous chef and manager were also there. Somehow it ended up that the three of us were in a little group taking shots of Jameson, while the bosses drank beers and smoked cigarettes.

When I got into work today, the chef (also a very chill man) was like, “hey David you alright? You look kinda beat up, you go out last night?” And the sous chef was there with us in the walk-in, and he answered for me, “Oh yeah this guy had some fun. I was at the bar with (manager) and him and (dish) and (gm guy), and we were just having a couple beers, and those guys were over there taking shot after shot.”

Lol. So after all those shots, I didn’t feel like taking the subway home – which can take up to 1 1/2 freakin’ hours at night. Solution – I crashed with the dishwasher, who lives right across town in Flatbush. Not straight-up Brooklyn hood, just semi-hood, like Bushwick, where I used to live. So it was safe and all. We were wandering around and stuff, looking for something to do. Then finally it was like, yo we gotta sleep.

Latinos are so hospitable. This dude lets me sleep in his big comfortable bed, and he sleeps on the floor. Then in the morning, he gives me a new toothbrush, so I can brush my teeth. Very thoughtful no?

It was so weird waking up in the morning. I was dreaming something about a baby, and then I realized I was awake and still heard the baby. I was like, “wait what is this, I don’t have a baby?” Then I was like, “wait why am I on a big real bed, and not a small air mattress?” Then I remembered everything that had happened the night before.

Then work was great. When you’re crudo (hungover) in the kitchen, you gotta let the other cooks know. That way they’ll go easy on you if you start messing things up and forgetting things – we all know the feeling of standing over a hot stove all night, with alcohol-infused sweat pouring into your chef jacket and down your back. It’s a crappy feeling, and a good feeling at the same time – you know you’re messed up, but your body is getting rid of the bad stuff for you.

Ok. Long-winded type of post. More pasta stuff coming to Heat & Knives soon. I’m starting a new project – sort of like Pasta 2.0. Last year I learned how to make pasta just right, by working a pasta station at a busy Italian spot. Now this year, I want to learn the big classic pastas really well – Amatriciana, Carbonara, Gricia, the ragus from Emilia-Romagna, the seafood pastas (clam, mussel, etc), and whatever else. Also want to learn more shapes. I’m lazy so I bought a KitchenAid mixer to mix the dough faster and easier. I can make it by hand, but I’m the type of cook that likes gadgets, and also too working with dough is not the aspect that I enjoy about pasta. And, let’s face it: power = fun.