Flamenco and Food

I spent a lovely long week end in Berlin, which contrasted sharply with France and Marseille, with its unending strikes and garbage accumulating on the sidewalks. It was my first time in that city, and since a friend from university had an exhibit scheduled, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to go. I sent out a message online to whoever wanted to meet me there as well, and was met by two friends, one living in another German town (with his companion) and the other in Sweden. Though it was only my second time in Germany (the first was in Munich, years ago, to meet a crazy scientist who had devised a water desalination contraption), it felt vaguely familiar, reminiscent of Switzerland, where after all, I have lived five years.
Back in Marseille, the trash was still on the streets but at least the buses were running. I have to say that in spite of all the garbage, I have seen far more rats and cockroaches in New York City.
So my first full week at the restaurant ends tonight, Saturday, and I never imagined I could enjoy myself so much at work. It’s been a week of creating, tasting, team work, giggles, skill-honing, vodka shots… though the atmosphere is still hierarchical and military, with lots of low-brow humor and testosterone, there is a binding love of food and excellence that makes it all okay, almost entertaining for an outsider such as myself. Maybe I’ve read too much Anthony Bourdain and Bill Buford that I would have been disappointed had the kitchen been less intense. Or maybe I like the combination of pressure and discovery, everyday bringing a different bounty of top quality produce. The chef is very spontaneous, and also gives his more senior staff a lot of creative license, which is very appreciable.
On the other hand, I have had to reconsider my initial idea of giving a detailed account of my experience, since number one, I am too tired to write daily, and number two, if I were the chef, I would expect a certain amount of discretion from my staff.
Speaking only briefly of the chef, in certain ways he reminds me of my flamenco teacher. They are both extremely demanding and perfectionist and can tear a person down faster than a New York minute. They are very sparse with compliments and extremely passionate of their art… I think this passion is what draws me towards these types of characters. It’s as if their creation was a matter of life and death…