His smile turns into a grimace, and he pulls his hand back. “Careful, partner, I need that hand to cook with.”
Laughing, I step into the restaurant and follow him to the back. “Good one!” My voice booms throughout the empty space, and it feels like I’m breaking it in.
“Welcome to Heights Bites,” he says.
“Cute place,” I tell him.
“The manager’s put a lot of work into it,” Samuel says. “Her dad used to own the original.”
The dining room is simple but gets the job done. A couple dozen tables, a beverage station, POS for checkout, and a hall that leads to restrooms and staff only areas. I explored a little when I was here the other day, but it looks different now that I know it’s mine.
As head chef, the back of the house will be my responsibility. The line cook, prep cook, and dish staff, plus the walk-ins, the lines, and the pantry are all my domain. But I feel a sense of responsibility for the entire place. Even if the front of house will fall under the manager. The servers, the dining room, the guest experience, that’s all under Alexis.
And she and I will collaborate as needed on the back of the house.
In fact, I’ve got some ideas I’m ready to go over with her as soon as I get to meet her.
I reviewed the menu, and we can do better.
Samuel gives me the grand tour of the kitchen, like I haven’t already cooked in it, but I soak it all in.
“We did some upgrades,” he says, pointing to the hot line, on the front left wall when we walk through the doorway to the kitchen. “Needed some new equipment after it sat here for so long unused. We got the fryer cleaned and running again. But the rest of the station is mostly new.”
Looks good.
“New expo?” I ask, checking out the stainless steel surface several feet back from the hot line, where dishes will be platedand finished, ready for servers to take to their guests. I already got to use it once but take the chance to get familiar with it again now.
“Yeah. You didn’t wanna see the old one.” He gives me a look and I believe him. “Cold station,” he says, pointing.
I spin and take in the salad station over to the right of the doorway. There’s barely a salad on the menu, much less other cold apps and dishes, but I have ideas on those too. This won’t be a waste of space by the time I get to put my stamp on this place.
“And the prep station is back there,” Samuel points to the back right of the room, the station nestled in the corner between the walk-ins and the cold station.
“And dish pit is around the corner?” I ask, heading to the back left section of the kitchen that wraps around behind the walk-ins and leads to the back exit.
“That’s right,” he says. “And if you take the hall here, you’ll find dry goods, the locker room, and some stairs that go up to the manager and chef office. Or you can follow it straight down and get back to the front of house and the bathrooms.”
“Where should we start?” I ask him.
“Inventory.” He claps his hands together and leads me to a clipboard hanging on the wall. “Deliveries from our main supplier come Tuesdays and Thursdays, local produce is set up to come Wednesday and Saturday. There are some specialty places we can use as needed.”
Samuel pushes the clipboard against my chest until I take hold of it.
“Inventory and ordering is going to be all you, partner.”
“Let’s fucking go,” I say, grin in place, ready to get this party started.
Throughout the morning,I learn Samuel has been the one prepping the back of house for opening. He worked at the original diner for twenty-something years and was able to get the kitchen set up to the point it’s at now in just the last couple of weeks, along with the manager.
I’m impressed with the dry goods pantry, he’s got a great system in there, and the inventory is solid. The walk-ins don’t have a whole lot yet, but we shouldn’t order too much of that inventory until we have to. When dry runs start.
It’s not in bad shape. He’s got my approval.
“How about our inspections?” I ask him.
“Gotta talk to the boss about that,” he says, whistling through his teeth. “Above my pay grade. I’m just the fry guy now that you’re here.”
I bend down so I can lean close, face to face with him. “I didn’t take your job, did I?”
