Your Dish Is Their Command

Suddenly the kitchen transitions from cheerful bustle to high-energy hustle. Lalo’s hands are a blur as he puts together six salads at once. Ernesto sears some scallops on the griddle while Renée starts a seafood risotto. A duck breast is slapped on the grill alongside a veal chop and two cowboy steaks.

Ernesto scoops sweet potatoes onto a plate, adds some spaghetti squash, then Renée spears the potatoes with a wonton. Asparagus and baby carrots are tucked alongside the squash. Ernesto arranges slices of the seared duck on the plate. In an interplay akin to dueling ladles, Renée adds a splash of port wine reduction. Ernesto spoons on a balsamic reduction. Then Renée counters back with some veal reduction atop it all, which will mingle for a moment with the medium-rare duck’s juices.

"Awesome," Renée pronounces as she and Ernesto draw a quick bead on their creation before it sails out the door.

The mini-printer keeps coughing out tickets. A special tasting menu order for two comes in, which is typically four courses, chef’s choice, paired with wines the chef selects to best accompany each course. Renée melts some crusted goat cheese, to which she’ll add crab meat. She pulls out a handful of squash blossoms. "I’ll stuff these with something, but I’m not sure what yet." She grins at me, wielding her tongs like another appendage and at ease in these moments when inspiration and timing must coincide exactly. Seared tuna and foie gras, bacon-wrapped lamb chops, several Kobe steaks and sea bass entrées leave the kitchen. She and Ernesto work in perfect tandem, exchanging few words. Ernesto sings while he works; he is serenading the food like a lover.

"Fire table 10, please. Menus open on table one," Stacy announces. A moment later she steps back into the kitchen. "Did I say that out loud, or did I just have it in my head?" The chefs assure her she had spoken, and she heads back to the front of the house.

The hair around Renée’s nape and forehead begins to curl. Harold returns to join the chefs on the line. The skillet hook hangs empty, and Arnaldo rushes over with several pans he has pulled from the dishwasher. He sees that Renée has pulled out the ingredients for wontons, so he rushes over to the sink to wash his hands, then he jumps behind the line to make the wontons for her. Lalo, too, is on the grill end of the line, offering another set of hands up for service.

At this point, I can be the most help by just staying out of the way. I stand at the end of the line, near Renée’s right elbow, trying to make myself flat against the white tile walls. It’s a compelling sight; this small army of skilled people working so fluidly at such a pace. They’re enjoying the extra pump of adrenaline from working fast and well together.

Acknowledging his staff’s skill, Harold later admits that it’s not always such a smooth effort behind the line. "We had a Friday night about four years ago with 125 reservations and a huge storm. The power went out about 6:30, and we had to place candles all over the bar and windows of the dining room just to see. We iced down all the food and cooked all the menu on the grill and the range, both of which are gas." They lit candles in the kitchen and washed each dish by hand. The power didn’t come back on until after 11 p.m. that night, and by evening’s end, they had served 130 guests.

"We got rave reviews and standing ovations," Harold says. "My staff and I lost 10 pounds each from working in an extremely hot kitchen."

Almost as quickly as the rush started, it subsides. It’s after 10 p.m. Arnaldo is working through the stack of dishes, and the rest of the kitchen staff begins cleaning their stations. Before she breaks down the stove area, Renée asks me what I would like to eat. It’s difficult to choose, but the Chilean sea bass caught my eye several times tonight. She prepares the dish as I listen to Lalo and Ernesto tease each other about being "in the weeds" during the rush.

I take my plate out to the bar to gratefully sit down and eat. The fish is, of course, perfectly prepared. Stacy is behind the bar cleaning glasses. I tell her how impressed I am with how well everyone works together. "Yes," she agrees. "We’ve been open for five and a half years now, and we’re so lucky because everyone in this building still loves their job." And judging from this Friday night, it sure does show in satisfied customers (including this writer).