It Happened Last Night

Practical jokes, chilly make-out sessions and plenty of reasons to cry: From the polished front of the house to the trenches of the fluorescent-lit kitchen, eight veterans of the restaurant world report on life under fire.

Pictured from left to right:

Gilberto Duncan, 40
Years in the industry: 23
General manager at Bossa Nova
“At this place that I used to work, we had a bachelorette party come in on a Saturday around 10 o’clock—a group from San Jose. They were having a good time, and before they left they said, ‘Do you know of any strip joints?’ I said, ‘I don’t think there’s any male revue in SF for women.’ But then I thought, I know a lot of hot guys. I figured I could get someone to do an impromptu show for them. So I got on the phone and called around until I found someone willing to dance for these women. He came over and stripped—we put on the Scissor Sisters—and ended his show by cutting off his whole outfit, everything. They paid him $250. After he finished, they still weren’t satisfied. So I found them another guy, a doorman at a local business. They took him back to their hotel, and he did a private show there. The next day, they called to thank me.”

Zeke Durantini, 27
Years in the industry: 5
Bartender at Perbacco
“I don’t know what it is about the magic of acoustics behind the bar, but you can hear every word people say. The classic scenario is two guys psyching each other up: “We’ve been in a dry spell, but now it’s totally on. These two are checking us out.” And then you hear from the girls at the other end of the bar: “Do you know those two guys? They won’t stop looking at us, and they are so creepy!” Eavesdropping is like reality TV—it has very few redeeming qualities, but you just can’t stop. I’ve heard families plan interventions while surrounded by drunks, locker-room tales of sexual encounters and, of course, there are guys with their mistresses. Just last night, this normal-looking woman from Michigan was sharing details about her master, whom she pays to whip her and make her eat her dinner out of a dog dish! She visits him once a year. People think, just because there’s a bar in between [us], that there is some sort of sound barrier, but remember: There’s always a listening ear serving you drinks.”

Natalie Bowen, 28
Years in the industy: 8
Hostess at Foreign Cinema
“When I think about working at Foreign Cinema, I think of the phrase, ‘The show must go on.’ There are always disasters, from broken ice machines to difficult customers, but some of my more notable personal disasters have been wardrobe malfunctions—my spaghetti strap breaking, things like that. The first night I ever hosted at the restaurant, I was young, nervous and very excited. I wore a pair of tight leather pants that I really loved, because I figured, How often do you get to wear leather pants? In the middle of my first shift, my leather pants split—they were flapping wide open. Of course, I wanted to spend the rest of the night hiding behind the host stand, but the woman training me wouldn’t allow it—she didn’t care that I was falling out of my pants; she just kept clapping her hands in my face and saying, “You need to move!” Needless to say, I survived the night—and threw the pants away.”

Seamus Mulhall, 47
Years in the industry: 33
Captain at Gary Danko
“I was working at La Folie back in 1992. There’s a friendly rivalry between La Folie chef Roland Passot and Hubert Keller, chef at Fleur de Lys. Earlier that year, Hubert had been invited to the White House to cook for the Clintons, and called Roland to rub it in. So when I showed up for work on April 1, Roland told me to make a reservation at Fleur de Lys for the Clintons. What!? I called; the maitre d’ said he’d be honored to accommodate the request. They sprang into action—flower arrangements were ordered, silverware was polished, the special Riedel glasses were taken out. At 7:30, I was instructed to phone Fleur de Lys. I told the maître d’ that the Clintons were on their way. I asked to speak to the chef, claiming one person in the party had a dietary restriction. They put me through and I handed the phone to Roland. “April Fool!” he hollered down the phone. Everyone at Fleur de Lys was good-humored about the joke: The maître d’ said that in 30 years in the business, no one had tricked him like that, and told me to drop by as they had Champagne waiting for me. Of course, I didn’t go by to collect … I figured it’d be like walking into the lion’s den!”




Pictured from left to right:

Rita Flores, 25
Years in the industry: 7
Pastry cook at Citizen Cake, will be pastry chef at the soon-to-open Orson
“You always hear stories about what happens in the walk-in [refrigerator]. It’s a place of solace for many people—it’s kind of a private place. If you’re agitated or hot from working on the line, it’s cool in there. And it’s insulated, so no one can really hear when you’re getting yelled at by the chef. You can have serious talks in the walk-in when you’re with your coworker and have to vent, and you always hear about people making out in there. Well, I’ve never witnessed anything, but you always hear about stuff.… I can’t  say if there’s any physical contact with the food.”

Beth Ann Simpkins, 25
Years in the industry: 3
Pizzaiola at A16
“Around the holidays, lunch at A16 gets a little crazy, with lots of office parties and big groups coming in. I’d just started working the pizza station, so I hadn’t experienced a really busy lunch. One afternoon, orders for pizzas just kept piling up. Every big table was ordering multiple pizzas. In a 10-minute period, we got orders for 25—and we can only cook four at a time in our [wood-burning] oven. So I’ve got four pizzas in the oven, four ready to go in the oven and various others stacked wherever I can find space. Nate [Appleman, the executive chef] can see that I need help, so he comes over and proclaims that the oven is “way too cold.” We start chucking whole logs into the oven, trying to bring the temperature up. It takes a little while, but suddenly the logs catch, and all of a sudden the oven is a blazing inferno, way too hot to cook pizzas without burning them. It was totally comical—pizzas stacked everywhere and Nate and I standing there, dripping with sweat, trying to fill all those orders. We still joke about it to this day.”
 
Jesse Koide, 31
Years in the industry: 10
Line cook at Farina
“At one restaurant, the chef decided he wanted me to work the pasta station—even though I’d only trained there a couple times. Shortly after we opened, I knew I was in trouble. The orders started to pile up, and I was screwing them up—and in a cold sweat. Midway through the night, I was rattled—at which point the chef said, “You think that was bad? Your night is about to get a lot worse.” He bombarded me with orders—I had 28, then 35. I looked up and saw the sauté cook staring at me, shaking his head. He knew I was doomed. At my most desperate moment, after I ran out of a sauce after telling the chef we had plenty, he stepped behind the line. You know you’re in trouble when the chef has to bail you out. I stood there, frozen, watching the chef go into overdrive. He just looked at me and said, “Fucking keep cooking, dude!” He ended up having to boot me off the station. I went and sat in the parking lot, crying and feeling sorry for myself. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder—it was the chef, and he handed me a glass of grappa and said, ‘You know what we learned tonight? You’re not ready to work the pasta station.’ That was the understatement of the year.”

Armando Ferman, 24
Years in the industry: 4.5
Sous chef at Bong Su
“Arguments between cooks happen in most kitchens. I used to work with this guy, one of those cooks that talk trash all the time. He worked the grill, and I was on the wok station, and he’d always be yelling at me, giving me a hard time, shoving me when he passed behind [me]—total ego stuff. Even if we were busy, in the middle of a huge rush, this guy somehow managed to yell the whole time. One night, I’d finally had enough. I heard him coming behind me yelling, and I turned around, swinging the 400-degree wok around with me. I got it as close to his cheek as I could without touching him, nearly burning his face. He never said another word to me.”

Pictured from left to right:

Gilberto Duncan, 40
Years in the industry: 23
General manager at Bossa Nova
“At this place that I used to work, we had a bachelorette party come in on a Saturday around 10 o’clock—a group from San Jose. They were having a good time, and before they left they said, ‘Do you know of any strip joints?’ I said, ‘I don’t think there’s any male revue in SF for women.’ But then I thought, I know a lot of hot guys. I figured I could get someone to do an impromptu show for them. So I got on the phone and called around until I found someone willing to dance for these women. He came over and stripped—we put on the Scissor Sisters—and ended his show by cutting off his whole outfit, everything. They paid him $250. After he finished, they still weren’t satisfied. So I found them another guy, a doorman at a local business. They took him back to their hotel, and he did a private show there. The next day, they called to thank me.”

Zeke Durantini, 27
Years in the industry: 5
Bartender at Perbacco
“I don’t know what it is about the magic of acoustics behind the bar, but you can hear every word people say. The classic scenario is two guys psyching each other up: “We’ve been in a dry spell, but now it’s totally on. These two are checking us out.” And then you hear from the girls at the other end of the bar: “Do you know those two guys? They won’t stop looking at us, and they are so creepy!” Eavesdropping is like reality TV—it has very few redeeming qualities, but you just can’t stop. I’ve heard families plan interventions while surrounded by drunks, locker-room tales of sexual encounters and, of course, there are guys with their mistresses. Just last night, this normal-looking woman from Michigan was sharing details about her master, whom she pays to whip her and make her eat her dinner out of a dog dish! She visits him once a year. People think, just because there’s a bar in between [us], that there is some sort of sound barrier, but remember: There’s always a listening ear serving you drinks.”

Natalie Bowen, 28
Years in the industy: 8
Hostess at Foreign Cinema
“When I think about working at Foreign Cinema, I think of the phrase, ‘The show must go on.’ There are always disasters, from broken ice machines to difficult customers, but some of my more notable personal disasters have been wardrobe malfunctions—my spaghetti strap breaking, things like that. The first night I ever hosted at the restaurant, I was young, nervous and very excited. I wore a pair of tight leather pants that I really loved, because I figured, How often do you get to wear leather pants? In the middle of my first shift, my leather pants split—they were flapping wide open. Of course, I wanted to spend the rest of the night hiding behind the host stand, but the woman training me wouldn’t allow it—she didn’t care that I was falling out of my pants; she just kept clapping her hands in my face and saying, “You need to move!” Needless to say, I survived the night—and threw the pants away.”

Seamus Mulhall, 47
Years in the industry: 33
Captain at Gary Danko
“I was working at La Folie back in 1992. There’s a friendly rivalry between La Folie chef Roland Passot and Hubert Keller, chef at Fleur de Lys. Earlier that year, Hubert had been invited to the White House to cook for the Clintons, and called Roland to rub it in. So when I showed up for work on April 1, Roland told me to make a reservation at Fleur de Lys for the Clintons. What!? I called; the maitre d’ said he’d be honored to accommodate the request. They sprang into action—flower arrangements were ordered, silverware was polished, the special Riedel glasses were taken out. At 7:30, I was instructed to phone Fleur de Lys. I told the maître d’ that the Clintons were on their way. I asked to speak to the chef, claiming one person in the party had a dietary restriction. They put me through and I handed the phone to Roland. “April Fool!” he hollered down the phone. Everyone at Fleur de Lys was good-humored about the joke: The maître d’ said that in 30 years in the business, no one had tricked him like that, and told me to drop by as they had Champagne waiting for me. Of course, I didn’t go by to collect … I figured it’d be like walking into the lion’s den!”




Pictured from left to right:

Rita Flores, 25
Years in the industry: 7
Pastry cook at Citizen Cake, will be pastry chef at the soon-to-open Orson
“You always hear stories about what happens in the walk-in [refrigerator]. It’s a place of solace for many people—it’s kind of a private place. If you’re agitated or hot from working on the line, it’s cool in there. And it’s insulated, so no one can really hear when you’re getting yelled at by the chef. You can have serious talks in the walk-in when you’re with your coworker and have to vent, and you always hear about people making out in there. Well, I’ve never witnessed anything, but you always hear about stuff.… I can’t  say if there’s any physical contact with the food.”

Beth Ann Simpkins, 25
Years in the industry: 3
Pizzaiola at A16
“Around the holidays, lunch at A16 gets a little crazy, with lots of office parties and big groups coming in. I’d just started working the pizza station, so I hadn’t experienced a really busy lunch. One afternoon, orders for pizzas just kept piling up. Every big table was ordering multiple pizzas. In a 10-minute period, we got orders for 25—and we can only cook four at a time in our [wood-burning] oven. So I’ve got four pizzas in the oven, four ready to go in the oven and various others stacked wherever I can find space. Nate [Appleman, the executive chef] can see that I need help, so he comes over and proclaims that the oven is “way too cold.” We start chucking whole logs into the oven, trying to bring the temperature up. It takes a little while, but suddenly the logs catch, and all of a sudden the oven is a blazing inferno, way too hot to cook pizzas without burning them. It was totally comical—pizzas stacked everywhere and Nate and I standing there, dripping with sweat, trying to fill all those orders. We still joke about it to this day.”
 
Jesse Koide, 31
Years in the industry: 10
Line cook at Farina
“At one restaurant, the chef decided he wanted me to work the pasta station—even though I’d only trained there a couple times. Shortly after we opened, I knew I was in trouble. The orders started to pile up, and I was screwing them up—and in a cold sweat. Midway through the night, I was rattled—at which point the chef said, “You think that was bad? Your night is about to get a lot worse.” He bombarded me with orders—I had 28, then 35. I looked up and saw the sauté cook staring at me, shaking his head. He knew I was doomed. At my most desperate moment, after I ran out of a sauce after telling the chef we had plenty, he stepped behind the line. You know you’re in trouble when the chef has to bail you out. I stood there, frozen, watching the chef go into overdrive. He just looked at me and said, “Fucking keep cooking, dude!” He ended up having to boot me off the station. I went and sat in the parking lot, crying and feeling sorry for myself. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder—it was the chef, and he handed me a glass of grappa and said, ‘You know what we learned tonight? You’re not ready to work the pasta station.’ That was the understatement of the year.”

Armando Ferman, 24
Years in the industry: 4.5
Sous chef at Bong Su
“Arguments between cooks happen in most kitchens. I used to work with this guy, one of those cooks that talk trash all the time. He worked the grill, and I was on the wok station, and he’d always be yelling at me, giving me a hard time, shoving me when he passed behind [me]—total ego stuff. Even if we were busy, in the middle of a huge rush, this guy somehow managed to yell the whole time. One night, I’d finally had enough. I heard him coming behind me yelling, and I turned around, swinging the 400-degree wok around with me. I got it as close to his cheek as I could without touching him, nearly burning his face. He never said another word to me.”

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