#ocf 2015

This weekend I had the pleasure to attend and work at the Oregon Country Fair. it is a congregation of love and community in the woods outside of Veneta, OR where local vendors and entertainers gather to present their arts and food to the public. After 7 the grounds close to the public and the nightlife wakes up with music shows, dancing, partying, and loving. Everyone who works there is a family. It was a beautiful group to be welcomed into and I was joining it as a vendor chef. I arrived Thursday morning by bike (a 32 mile commute that took me about 2 and a half hours) and was met at registration by a rowdy crew that asked me one question: Is this your first fair? My affirmation of that fact was met by the man shouting “We have a fair virgin!” and an boisterous roar from the crowd around me. It was then that I knew I had made it. My next task was to find the booth I was working at. I had no idea what I would be cooking or who I would be working with so a lot of anxiety filled my head on the way in. I arrived at the booth to meet Gorilla (Jonathon), our booth rep and fearless leader. He filled me in on our schedule, our basic tasks, and we discussed our strengths as chefs. He has 20 years of restaurant experience to compare to my measly 6 months. I was humbled by his organization but incredibly in tune with his vibe and energy and I immediately knew we would work well together. Before other workers arrived we began to organize prep lists, kitchen items, and inventory for the day ahead. Once the rest of the crew got there we got to work, slamming out diced veggies, meats, and mixed salads for Friday. I was scheduled for 5-11 PM at the salad station so I felt no problem with being up till 2 AM preparing ham by lantern-light and making sure we were ready for the morning. So I got to sleep by 2 AM by the sounds of the drum circle nearby. Sometime in the morning I was woken up by bustle downstairs. I assumed that I got about 4 hours of sleep and stumbled down the stairs to find chaos and confusion throughout the kitchen. So with no manager experience and all the confidence a tired prep-chef can have I threw on my apron, washed my hands, and got to work giving out tasks and jobs to get the booth open for breakfast. I worked with the other line cook, who is a bartender by trade, to get caught up with the orders and we eventually figured out portions and a flow with dish and the counter that seemed to work. That afternoon I returned frequently to check up on prep and help them get through their chops. I hung out with some other fair friends till 10 that night and then helped everyone close the booth around 10:30. I was happy to be working for 10 hours a day just to make sure everything was moving along smoothly. I came to work as well as play, after all. Saturday I awoke at 4:50 and made a trek to Dana’s Cheesecake to get my new habitual coffee and cookie bar for breakfast. I got back to the booth and got to opening up. We were working with a less efficient counter crew than Friday and the other cook was getting hostile with frustration due to lack of sleep with fair life and overall grouchy demeanor. A third, and more experienced, cook was called in to help out and we had to spend extra energy just to keep the kitchen environment respectful and happy. When the lunch workers came in I took a break to wander about and get some real breakfast. I got back a couple hours later and chatted with one of the prep cooks to find that the grouchy breakfast cook is ditching us on Sunday, to which I said “good riddance” as I’d rather bust more ass than deal with that negativity in a kitchen. That night I decided to cut loose though, so after helping evening salad prep I went drinking with the booth-mates till midnight. It was a little colder so my sleep was more interrupted that night, to boot. Sunday at 4:50 I woke up to the dying drum circle with some alcohol still in my bloodstream. I figured we’d still have two able cooks (myself and one other) so I could slip up a little; it is fair so I wanted to have some non-work related fun. I got my coffee and cookie bar and got back to open the booth up. Under my solo work we were ready and open right on time at 6 with everything prepared for breakfast: scrambled raw eggs, cooked hot potatoes, prepped veggies and ham, and a full load of clean pans to cook with. The second cook showed up at 8 and that’s when I received the news that we needed to prep more alfredo for the lunch crew and I was suddenly the only line cook. Luckily the morning started slow with no orders till about 8 and then only a few till 9; that was the turning point. In 10 minutes we had 6 orders and I had 6 burners going. Dishwashers were hopping and my crew was on point getting me what I needed and keeping the customers satisfied I became a machine, sweating even over the drying heat of the propane burners and keeping every order under a 5 minute wait with no mistakes or items burned. It was absolutely invigorating. Every half-hour or so I shouted out “Time check!” so I knew how long the marathon was. When I got told 11:15 I told the counter to take no more breakfast orders and let the crew know to switch over for lunch.

Gorilla walked in with an amazed look on his face to see that the crew crushed it under the pressure and I had kept them moving and, best of all, happy. I tried to give the crew what they needed: someone who showed both leadership and respect, even to those who aren’t trained with restaurant experience. I felt like a superhero when I gave the last hot pan to dish. I then took a moment to state that breakfast was over and everyone did an incredible job which was met with applause and hugs. Gorilla told me later in the day that I was made for this job and he could see the fire in my eyes when the pressure is on. He said I ran the crew like someone who had been cooking for life and not just 6 months, which in his eyes made me a natural in the kitchen. He also said that I pretty much saved his butt and the whole breakfast crew so I’ll be working as the official breakfast shift leader next year. I wanted to work till 5 but Gorilla told me to get the hell out of there so I could make the 32 mile bike ride home (I have self-sacrificing issues it seems).

This weekend I had the pleasure to attend and work at the Oregon Country Fair. it is a congregation of love and community in the woods outside of Veneta, OR where local vendors and entertainers gather to present their arts and food to the public. After 7 the grounds close to the public and the nightlife wakes up with music shows, dancing, partying, and loving. Everyone who works there is a family. It was a beautiful group to be welcomed into and I was joining it as a vendor chef. I arrived Thursday morning by bike (a 32 mile commute that took me about 2 and a half hours) and was met at registration by a rowdy crew that asked me one question: Is this your first fair? My affirmation of that fact was met by the man shouting “We have a fair virgin!” and an boisterous roar from the crowd around me. It was then that I knew I had made it. My next task was to find the booth I was working at. I had no idea what I would be cooking or who I would be working with so a lot of anxiety filled my head on the way in.  I arrived at the booth to meet Gorilla (Jonathon), our booth rep and fearless leader. He filled me in on our schedule, our basic tasks, and we discussed our strengths as chefs. He has 20 years of restaurant experience to compare to my measly 6 months. I was humbled by his organization but incredibly in tune with his vibe and energy and I immediately knew we would work well together. Before other workers arrived we began to organize prep lists, kitchen items, and inventory for the day ahead. Once the rest of the crew got there we got to work, slamming out diced veggies, meats, and mixed salads for Friday. I was scheduled for 5-11 PM at the salad station so I felt no problem with being up till 2 AM preparing ham by lantern-light and making sure we were ready for the morning. So I got to sleep by 2 AM by the sounds of the drum circle nearby. Sometime in the morning I was woken up by bustle downstairs. I assumed that I got about 4 hours of sleep and stumbled down the stairs to find chaos and confusion throughout the kitchen. So with no manager experience and all the confidence a tired prep-chef can have I threw on my apron, washed my hands, and got to work giving out tasks and jobs to get the booth open for breakfast. I worked with the other line cook, who is a bartender by trade, to get caught up with the orders and we eventually figured out portions and a flow with dish and the counter that seemed to work. That afternoon I returned frequently to check up on prep and help them get through their chops. I hung out with some other fair friends till 10 that night and then helped everyone close the booth around 10:30. I was happy to be working for 10 hours a day just to make sure everything was moving along smoothly. I came to work as well as play, after all.  Saturday I awoke at 4:50 and made a trek to Dana’s Cheesecake to get my new habitual coffee and cookie bar for breakfast. I got back to the booth and got to opening up. We were working with a less efficient counter crew than Friday and the other cook was getting hostile with frustration due to lack of sleep with fair life and overall grouchy demeanor. A third, and more experienced, cook was called in to help out and we had to spend extra energy just to keep the kitchen environment respectful and happy. When the lunch workers came in I took a break to wander about and get some real breakfast. I got back a couple hours later and chatted with one of the prep cooks to find that the grouchy breakfast cook is ditching us on Sunday, to which I said “good riddance” as I’d rather bust more ass than deal with that negativity in a kitchen. That night I decided to cut loose though, so after helping evening salad prep I went drinking with the booth-mates till midnight. It was a little colder so my sleep was more interrupted that night, to boot. Sunday at 4:50 I woke up to the dying drum circle with some alcohol still in my bloodstream. I figured we’d still have two able cooks (myself and one other) so I could slip up a little; it is fair so I wanted to have some non-work related fun. I got my coffee and cookie bar and got back to open the booth up. Under my solo work we were ready and open right on time at 6 with everything prepared for breakfast: scrambled raw eggs, cooked hot potatoes, prepped veggies and ham, and a full load of clean pans to cook with. The second cook showed up at 8 and that’s when I received the news that we needed to prep more alfredo for the lunch crew and I was suddenly the only line cook. Luckily the morning started slow with no orders till about 8 and then only a few till 9; that was the turning point. In 10 minutes we had 6 orders and I had 6 burners going. Dishwashers were hopping and my crew was on point getting me what I needed and keeping the customers satisfied I became a machine, sweating even over the drying heat of the propane burners and keeping every order under a 5 minute wait with no mistakes or items burned. It was absolutely invigorating. Every half-hour or so I shouted out “Time check!” so I knew how long the marathon was. When I got told 11:15 I told the counter to take no more breakfast orders and let the crew know to switch over for lunch. 

Gorilla walked in with an amazed look on his face to see that the crew crushed it under the pressure and I had kept them moving and, best of all, happy. I tried to give the crew what they needed: someone who showed both leadership and respect, even to those who aren’t trained with restaurant experience. I felt like a superhero when I gave the last hot pan to dish. I then took a moment to state that breakfast was over and everyone did an incredible job which was met with applause and hugs. Gorilla told me later in the day that I was made for this job and he could see the fire in my eyes when the pressure is on. He said I ran the crew like someone who had been cooking for life and not just 6 months, which in his eyes made me a natural in the kitchen. He also said that I pretty much saved his butt and the whole breakfast crew so I’ll be working as the official breakfast shift leader next year. I wanted to work till 5 but Gorilla told me to get the hell out of there so I could make the 32 mile bike ride home (I have self-sacrificing issues it seems).