When I first asked a pastry chef to work in his kitchen, I was 16 years old and living in Italy. The chef told me that I needed more time and experience. So I asked him, "What if I worked for you on the floor, and after serving for one year, you let me work in the pastry kitchen?" He shrugged and said, "Yeah, we'll see."
I took that as a promise.
When I got the job that summer I tried to learn quickly, but the first cappuccino I made was horrible. The milk was too hot, everything was off. Customers were mad. My bosses didn't know where to put me. I became a waitress for a while. On busy nights, I would just wash dishes or prepare fruit plates in the back of the kitchen.
I went to high school in the Italian countryside, at a school that trained people for the hospitality business. When I was in school, all I could think of was being in the kitchen. But I had spent more time playing on the computer than I had spent cooking. So when I actually got to a professional kitchen, I didn't know how to move or how to think like a cook. It is completely different from cooking in everyday life.
Eventually, I was placed back on the bar. I learned how to make good a espresso or cappuccino, and interact with our customers. I kept the display area for pastries organized and clean. The chef, seeing my growth, finally let me into the pastry kitchen. That's where the trouble really began. The pastry cooks really didn't know what to do with me, either. At first, they let me chop fruit and cut cakes. I was more like an intern than a chef. Eventually, they allowed me to decorate the cakes with another colleague, who taught me how to make sugar decorations.
Italians love soccer, food and politics. After I graduated, I spent a year at this small restaurant in the Abruzzo countryside. The owner, Bobo, was a communist and his wife, Fita, was a fascist. Chef Bobo had red hair. His mustache was red, his chef's jacket was red, everything was red. Fita always wore black.
Bobo and Frita's restaurant was a small team and a farm to table kind of place. Bobo taught me how to make fresh pasta, fish stock and bread. I was a prep cook for a while, cleaning all the vegetables and fish. I made fresh pastries and worked on the pasta station. (I never got to do the meats, as at the time that intimidated me.)
The best day during that year was when Bobo had a chance to show me around Rome. We took a day trip to see a friend of his. We drove in from Molise, close to the region of Abruzzi, in the eastern part of Italy. Half way there, in the region of Aquila, the mountains, we stopped to buy truffles and mushrooms and made a really good lunch of of those things when we arrived at Bobo's friend's restaurant in Rome. On our way back, we stopped at a small restaurant in Molise. We drank wine and at chestnut pasta. That was one of my best days in Italy.
When I returned to the United States, I had not lived with my whole family in five years, having been in Italy throughout my high school. Living under my parents' roof and rules was something that I had to get used to again. Commuting from New Jersey to New York to work at Sullivan Street Bakery was a challenge, for one. The transition was really mind-blowing, because the pace in New York is nothing like the pace in Italy. In Italy, no one is in a hurry. Everyone takes their time, and a three-hour lunch is normal. Customers kind of never leave; they just linger. But here in New York people move, hustle and bustle. People have places to go and the pace is much faster.
I started working at Locanda Verde in February 2011. I left Sullivan because I wanted to pursue pastry, and Sullivan is bread-oriented. I wanted to know more about cakes, cookies and ice cream. I knew people that worked at Sullivan and then worked at Locanda Verde, they talked to Chef Karen DeMasco. When they needed an extra person, I interviewed and got the job at Locanda. Since then it has been really fun and time has passed quickly. It feels like it was just yesterday that I started working there.
There are definitely bad days in the office. A bad day is when I add the salt to the yeast. The salt will kill the yeast right away. Yeast does not want to be in contact with salt unless there is some H2O or flour surrounding it, cuddling the yeast.
Here is a good example of a bad day: Making brioche was the first project that I was given. During the mixing of the dough I didn't weigh out the flour correctly. The dough wasn't mixing properly. It was just too loose and too liquid. I was confused. Why was this happening?
Normally, gluten forms while the dough is mixing. The dough gets more elastic, more compact in its own way. I had to ask another baker what to do. He told me that there wasn't enough flour. So it was either dump the whole batch—which was a lot of butter, eggs, sugar and lemon—or add more flour. Both options were a risk. We added more flour to it and it worked out. It came back together and it was elastic. But the day after, when we tasted the bread, it wasn't as light as our regular brioche. It wasn't the quality bread it could be. That's when I realized that I need to keep my eyes open. I need to think about what I am making.
I talk to my fellow cooks a lot too, in order to get tips for cooking at home. At Sullivan Street Bakery we made bread and savory dishes. We made mustards from scratch and aioli, roasted our own pork and made roast beef. Sometimes I would speak to my friend Bao—who used to work at the noodle shop Momofuku—and ask him, "So I tried to make a banh mi the other day. I need some tips to make it taste authentic." Or, I would go to the pasta guy and ask, "So how did you make that filling for ravioli?" I would just talk to Chef Ollie or Chef Ron and ask, " Have you guys ever made mustard? I have this recipe, but I want to make it better." Everyone is a cook and everyone knows something different.
I have learned that teamwork is everything. Not only in the pastry kitchen, but for every group in the restaurant. The baristas need to have good teamwork, so do the servers, cooks and pastry cooks. If even one person does not want to be included in the team, that drags everyone down because the team cannot in turn help that person. Having a good relationship with your work partner is awfully important. Clear communication and being honest with one another is best. In the kitchen at Locanda Verde, Chef Karen keeps the team together in this way. She is honest and she doesn't hold grudges. She can get mad at you for doing something wrong, but it is nothing personal. If you learn from it, she won't hold a grudge. She is a mother at home and at work she has that maternal affection. Even if you do make a mistake or two, she won't hold it against you. That is the thing about holding a team together. There is room for mistakes, but also room for growth.
I took that as a promise.
When I got the job that summer I tried to learn quickly, but the first cappuccino I made was horrible. The milk was too hot, everything was off. Customers were mad. My bosses didn't know where to put me. I became a waitress for a while. On busy nights, I would just wash dishes or prepare fruit plates in the back of the kitchen.
I went to high school in the Italian countryside, at a school that trained people for the hospitality business. When I was in school, all I could think of was being in the kitchen. But I had spent more time playing on the computer than I had spent cooking. So when I actually got to a professional kitchen, I didn't know how to move or how to think like a cook. It is completely different from cooking in everyday life.
Eventually, I was placed back on the bar. I learned how to make good a espresso or cappuccino, and interact with our customers. I kept the display area for pastries organized and clean. The chef, seeing my growth, finally let me into the pastry kitchen. That's where the trouble really began. The pastry cooks really didn't know what to do with me, either. At first, they let me chop fruit and cut cakes. I was more like an intern than a chef. Eventually, they allowed me to decorate the cakes with another colleague, who taught me how to make sugar decorations.
Italians love soccer, food and politics. After I graduated, I spent a year at this small restaurant in the Abruzzo countryside. The owner, Bobo, was a communist and his wife, Fita, was a fascist. Chef Bobo had red hair. His mustache was red, his chef's jacket was red, everything was red. Fita always wore black.
Bobo and Frita's restaurant was a small team and a farm to table kind of place. Bobo taught me how to make fresh pasta, fish stock and bread. I was a prep cook for a while, cleaning all the vegetables and fish. I made fresh pastries and worked on the pasta station. (I never got to do the meats, as at the time that intimidated me.)
The best day during that year was when Bobo had a chance to show me around Rome. We took a day trip to see a friend of his. We drove in from Molise, close to the region of Abruzzi, in the eastern part of Italy. Half way there, in the region of Aquila, the mountains, we stopped to buy truffles and mushrooms and made a really good lunch of of those things when we arrived at Bobo's friend's restaurant in Rome. On our way back, we stopped at a small restaurant in Molise. We drank wine and at chestnut pasta. That was one of my best days in Italy.
When I returned to the United States, I had not lived with my whole family in five years, having been in Italy throughout my high school. Living under my parents' roof and rules was something that I had to get used to again. Commuting from New Jersey to New York to work at Sullivan Street Bakery was a challenge, for one. The transition was really mind-blowing, because the pace in New York is nothing like the pace in Italy. In Italy, no one is in a hurry. Everyone takes their time, and a three-hour lunch is normal. Customers kind of never leave; they just linger. But here in New York people move, hustle and bustle. People have places to go and the pace is much faster.
I started working at Locanda Verde in February 2011. I left Sullivan because I wanted to pursue pastry, and Sullivan is bread-oriented. I wanted to know more about cakes, cookies and ice cream. I knew people that worked at Sullivan and then worked at Locanda Verde, they talked to Chef Karen DeMasco. When they needed an extra person, I interviewed and got the job at Locanda. Since then it has been really fun and time has passed quickly. It feels like it was just yesterday that I started working there.
There are definitely bad days in the office. A bad day is when I add the salt to the yeast. The salt will kill the yeast right away. Yeast does not want to be in contact with salt unless there is some H2O or flour surrounding it, cuddling the yeast.
Here is a good example of a bad day: Making brioche was the first project that I was given. During the mixing of the dough I didn't weigh out the flour correctly. The dough wasn't mixing properly. It was just too loose and too liquid. I was confused. Why was this happening?
Normally, gluten forms while the dough is mixing. The dough gets more elastic, more compact in its own way. I had to ask another baker what to do. He told me that there wasn't enough flour. So it was either dump the whole batch—which was a lot of butter, eggs, sugar and lemon—or add more flour. Both options were a risk. We added more flour to it and it worked out. It came back together and it was elastic. But the day after, when we tasted the bread, it wasn't as light as our regular brioche. It wasn't the quality bread it could be. That's when I realized that I need to keep my eyes open. I need to think about what I am making.
I talk to my fellow cooks a lot too, in order to get tips for cooking at home. At Sullivan Street Bakery we made bread and savory dishes. We made mustards from scratch and aioli, roasted our own pork and made roast beef. Sometimes I would speak to my friend Bao—who used to work at the noodle shop Momofuku—and ask him, "So I tried to make a banh mi the other day. I need some tips to make it taste authentic." Or, I would go to the pasta guy and ask, "So how did you make that filling for ravioli?" I would just talk to Chef Ollie or Chef Ron and ask, " Have you guys ever made mustard? I have this recipe, but I want to make it better." Everyone is a cook and everyone knows something different.
I have learned that teamwork is everything. Not only in the pastry kitchen, but for every group in the restaurant. The baristas need to have good teamwork, so do the servers, cooks and pastry cooks. If even one person does not want to be included in the team, that drags everyone down because the team cannot in turn help that person. Having a good relationship with your work partner is awfully important. Clear communication and being honest with one another is best. In the kitchen at Locanda Verde, Chef Karen keeps the team together in this way. She is honest and she doesn't hold grudges. She can get mad at you for doing something wrong, but it is nothing personal. If you learn from it, she won't hold a grudge. She is a mother at home and at work she has that maternal affection. Even if you do make a mistake or two, she won't hold it against you. That is the thing about holding a team together. There is room for mistakes, but also room for growth.