Goin' Out West :::::: My time as a Pizza Chef

Listening to: The Howlin' Wolf London Sessions




          Fortunately,  I was able to score a job within the first week of moving out to Jackson.  Thanks to the help of a good friend Delaney Campbell,  I got in good with a local chef working at an upscale mountain dining mainstay in the Jackson community.  The restaurant, authentic italian cuisine, Il Villagio Osteria was nestled right into the bottom of a mountain side resort known as Hotel Terra.  Really super nice.  One of the more consistently popular and well run establishments in a place that seemed pretty tough to succeed (in the restaurant biz.)  It was hard to think about spending time at work in such beautiful surroundings, but you get over it fast.  It's all relative.  I came in for a "working interview" which translates to "lets see if you can not screw up too bad and we'll feed you dinner in the process."   Carter Light would be my boss.  Super cool guy, originally from Vermont that came here in search of something more just as I had.  He loved to cook and loved to hunt and fish.  Mention waterfowl around him and you were sure to have a new friend.  Plus he was young enough to still relate to all the young people in the restaurant.  Big plus for a boss.  Above the small parking deck and below the first floor of the hotel sits the restaurant and the kitchen and prep area.  Upon entering, two servers eat whatever was for lunch and giggle in the hallway as the dinner rush nears.  Throw on a chef coat and time to see how screwed you are before service.  (in reference to what all prep needed to be done to finish out the night.)  Sometimes there's a lot to do, sometimes there's nothing.  I would be working with one of three people.  All of whom couldn't have been any different.  There was Katie, who was a solid 7 months pregnant and still working hard despite her looming responsibility and protruding belly.  She was pretty intense.  She took a liking to my sarcastic sense of humor after a while though and I enjoyed working with her.  Next there was Fernando.  A mexican dude, hard worker.  Don't want to stereotype but since he held a more responsibility-related job, and not a dishwasher, he didn't have a very good attitude.  He made it seem like we all owed him  something.    The shifts I worked with Fernando went by quickly.  And finally, Mike.  Mike had rolled his SUV 10 or 12 times and was in a back brace.  Translation: "here carry all this heavy stuff."  My job ended up being pretty awesome.  It required minimal kitchen skills, but those who've done it know, cooking great pizza takes some practice.  Especially if you've got 6 pies at once in a 640 degree oven.  12 inch pies, all great quality toppings, and of course fresh mozz.  Whoa they were good.  It was a woodstone pizza oven outside of the kitchen in the bar/ lounge area.  Sweet, I thought.  Most kitchens are hidden from the restaurant i.e. the customers, so this meant I'd have to be on my A-game at all times.  A good and a bad thing.  No goofing off or listening to music too loud.

        Working in a restaurant in a resort town is a funny thing.  You see all these people come in with their families and enjoying their vacations in this incredibly beautiful place.  And here you are stuck at work in a marinara stained chef coat with a pregnant chick trying to tell you how to stretch dough.  Like I said, it's all relative.  Yea, I am at work, but I LIVE here.  It takes a few times of realizing this before you think about it and smile.  Or at least that's the feeling it brought to me.  I hate all things paparazzi and TMZ/celebrity gossip related, but it was sweet to see a few celebs escaping reality in The Tetons.   I saw Gary Cole a few times (not Gary Coleman,) (Bill Lumbergh from Office Space.) If anyone doesn't know who that is, it's your own fault.  I saw Quentin Tarantino, there filming a new flick in Grand Teton Natl. Park.   No big deal.  The restaurant industry was pretty good to me out west.  It got me on the slopes every day, kept my belly full, and a roof over my head.  Got a lot to be thankful for.  Friends, family, fresh pow, and pizza.  
#grateful

Goin' Out West ::::: the drive to Jackson Hole, WY :: January 15, 2012

Wow. Where to start?  When the decision came to move to Jackson, Wyoming for some party-work-ski-live time, it was unanimous.  I already had some buddies living out in the high country, and they were part of a lease already, so I said why not, see you guys in a couple weeks.  I decided to stay with family through the Christmas and New Year holiday which could have been a good decision or not depending on how you look at it.  From what I'd heard it had been a relatively mild winter in a place that is famous for record snowfalls.  I began my journey in the middle of January to what I would find not to be a lack of snow.  Leaving from Birmingham, I would venture on to pass through Tupelo, Memphis, Little Rock, Fort Smith, Muskogee, Tulsa all the way to Wichita, KS.  I stayed for the night with a family friend.  Her boyfriend Dave had a man cave in the basement.  We shared a few laughs and he came to tell me how he had done exactly what I was doing, a good old ski bum.  "I lived and worked the slopes in Telluride, Colorado for 26 years man," he said. After a few glasses of red I was out like a light, but just giddy about the trip to come.
5:00 a.m. came and I joined the hordes of truckers and commercial vehicles beating down the interstate and pointed my nose towards Colorado.  If you've ever driven through Kansas, I'm sorry.  For those that haven't stay away at all costs.  Sure I was all excited about getting to  see countryside yet unseen by my own two eyes, but wow, Kansas ain't much to look at.  Your drivin', drivin'... WINDMILL!  The simplest roadside shape will grab your attention in place of the miles and miles of farmland your immersed in.  It's 430+ miles just from Wichita to Denver.  Yea.  Finally you get to Colorado and you feel like your making some progress, sort of.  In Denver you can see the majestic rockies off in the distance.  Beautiful and breathtaking but it was a different mountain pass I was seeking, and to get there I had to get through 'Hoback Junction.'  Kind of like the native american backdrop of cities, towns and street names in Mississippi, the names get weirder and more outrageous the further west you go.  Pueblo, Cheyenne, Blackfoot, Muskogee to name a few.  I got to Denver around noon and had lunch with a good friend of mine, Ms. Chelsea Buell, a fellow Rebel and show-goer herself she was glad to see me come through and she got a free lunch out of it.  I rather enjoyed it.  A person across the country and doing her own thing, "Hey I know you lets have lunch."  Another turn to the North and off towards Jackson.  Crossing the state line in Wyoming was another point where it feels like you've made progress.  Nope, 8 hours til Jackson still. The roaming pastures and distant windmills gave way to rolling hills and yellow sandy looking sediment that rose toward the heavens with the tops just frosted with a light snow.  Mild winter rings in my head again as the temperature starts to drop.  It was probably  50-55 degrees in Denver, comfortable in a tee shirt in the sun.  It had dropped 15 degrees by the time I got to Laramie.  5 hours left.  Afternoon turned to dusk, and before dark I stopped to clean my windshield with hot water and put some more clothes on.  The intensity of the last 5 hours began to sink in.  Changed out of my Chacos(painstakingly), figured it was time.  Laramie actually had a higher elevation than the town of Jackson.  7100 feet vs. 6400 feet.  Anyway, it's the capitol and the University of Wyoming is there.  Maybe I'll check it out next time.  I put it to the floor and ascended into the mountains in the dark.  Hairpin turns and switchbacks kept me on my toes, but thanks be to God the roads were in pretty good shape.  A little sketchy outside Laramie in Hoback Junction but I managed.  I sure came at the right time of year considering we got dumped on the next 3 months.  Finally made it to Jackson, hit state road 22 towards Grand Teton National Park and turned into my destination at The Aspens.  What a long strange trip it had been.  WAY worth it.  The group met me with many beers in hand.  They had prematurely celebrated my arrival and had a few before I got there. Not to worry, there's always another Pabst in the fridge.

td