Being a short order cook provides no real room for advancement- its not a career. Its a dead end life style that at its best ends each night with a free meal, a couple beers, some drugs and three hours of sleep before having to wake up and cook brunch the next day. At its worst, its pretty much the same as at its best, only instead of a job it is your life and contributes to those feelings of loss, hopelessness and desperation that characterize those of us working in the unfulfilling service industry.
Perhaps this blog will provide me some room to grow, to deepen my roots and help me reach some unknown potential – if so, that would be nice as I could use some of that right about now. Really though, I just would like a venue to spit venom about the culinary-industrial complex. There are so many (so, so many) little events that occur during a ten hour shift that compel me to shine the light of day upon these machinations of a industry.
In this spirit, I’d like to official commence my vitriolic, heavily biased, bitter and self loathing undercover investigation into the broad themes of capitalist food production.
Cheers,
ICYF
Bon Appetit
