Anyone know why a chef's hat goes up so high? I mean, when you put one on, they seem absurd. REALLY ABSURD. You know? When you first put one on.
(Well, even later, but your best chance to Notice is when you First put one on.)
(Heck, you might even toss it, and change professions.)
Who are these guys fooling?
What's the deal?
And what's the pouf on the top?
I think, if you haven't ever put one on, you should. Because I remember putting one on. I was thinking about the hats, and I remember the actual EXPERIENCE of putting one on. A chef's hat.
Yes; I have put one on.
I think this separates me from you ~ from anyone ~ unless they have put one on. Not "been in a kitchen," but PUT one on. Don't try to put ME on; I am hip to you. SO hip. You all talk out your hat you don't have on.
They are really starchy. Not many starch-bound professions yet. That wide/tall band at the bottom, that goes around your head, is really starchy. It's like board. Mat board. In a loop. If it's too small for you ~ yes they come in sizes ~ it's not going on your head. Not unless you're peeling it.
They are stored on like a baker's rack in the back; or a shelf in the linen closet. You need one for each day, so there will be a pile of them in there.
"Seven and a half. Chef's hat."
Say that.
Gets you in the spirit.
Why so tall?
It's got to be the tallest hat of any profession. Don't you think?
Why?
Okay, "Drum Majorette." Like that's a profession.
I put one on. Boy, there ARE hats that will make you feel like you look STUPID. You sneak into the bathroom to look, (don't forget to duck, unless you're shorter than a snake to begin with) ~ you get in there and look in the mirror and you're going to be disappointed. And shocked. "I look STUPID!"
Yes; you do.
Trust me.
You look really, really, dumb.
Like out of a movie.
Maybe this hat on your head you see here, counting your blessings that accountants don't wear hats ~ maybe this hat was the result of a "Let's see how stupid a hat the chefs will wear" contest.
Probably was.
I can see that.
Being "picked up," by the "chef community."
The Chef Community.
Yawr harr.
You certainly wouldn't wear it if they weren't ALL wearing it. Not out on the street. Nuh uh. Not even in the back of a restaurant, which is a pretty peculiar environment. It's a weird place. I think the hats prove it. Though the chef's don't seem to notice.
Maybe the hats would look right for insomniacs.
Chef Community.
But how would you like to walk down the street in one? Huh?
THAT'S what it's LIKE. Wearing one. Wearing one AT ALL, the first time. That's how stupid it is. It's like walking down the street in it, saying, "Hey look at me ~ Stupid." You can't believe you're going to get away with it. But only in here. Inside the Chef Community. "Don't walk out in the alley, Sequoia."
Out on the street, people would be sure to say, "What's with the hat?"
And what would you say? Huh?
That's why they isolate those guys, in the back, through the doors. They're never CONFRONTED by REAL people. You never see them out of there. At City Hall, or the gas station. Of course not. It would be woe. Questions and confrontations, man.
MEAN people would say, "Are you making FUN of ME with that HAT?"
Jeez. You'd be in trouble. "No. No! I just wear it."
Oh likely story.
There would be Chef Meetings. "We lost Ernie last night, at the Fairmont. Stepped out for some lip balm."
"Oh, man."
So why would you wear the hat in a kitchen?
What kind of reality lapse are you in in there?
What is it about whisky kitchens that makes chefs lose what little mind they have? Does it evaporate into their hats?
Is it soup?
I recommend, for anyone who doesn't understand the fuss, that seems to have enveloped me, today, ~ well now, anyway ~ that they go to a restaurant and slip in the back, with the potatoes, which you will always find there, denoting 'the back of a restaurant' ~ literally, denoting ~ go there and ask if you can wear a hat.
MAKE UP SOMETHING.
"I have ALWAYS WANTED TO WEAR ONE OF THESE HATS."
They should be STUPID ENOUGH to believe that.
Then smile and snug it down on there and feel what it feels like. There is nothing like it. In life. Really. Nothing like this. It's amazing, really; that that's all the farther you have to go to experience something in life you have never experienced before. Wow. Huh? Think of that.
That's what I'm good for. Guido. Your Guido. Think of me as Your Guido.
It is unique. Chef-hatting. Slipping into a chef's hat. Of your own. Trust me. Try not to look SILLY, oh YAH; or they will know you are FAKING. Just ruse-ing. And maybe the whole poufy Chef Hat Empire, will collapse.
POUF!
Maybe that Company in Paris that was making nurses caps 'til that moron Louis cut out seventy five thousand Pouf hats will finally OWN UP.
Or, maybe, back There, just stick one on. Without telling anyone. Like chefs do. They never say, after the first time, "Should I put on this stupid hat? Really? Put it on?" [This is why it takes two chefs to put on a hat. The other one says, "You look fine."] Just grab one and put it on like that; like you know what you're doing. Like you're a complete idiot. "I have no idea what I'm doing. But I'm doing it."
The white starchy coats they wear? Are kind of neat; maybe just pull one of those from the rack (they're folded up) (and stacked) (very restauranty) (like holy garments made of white plywood) (handy for knife fights) (paring) and get into that, the jacket first, and get the feel for things, before you get the hat. It's like getting into a coat made of formica smaples. They ALWAYS PUT THE HAT ON LAST, ANYWAY. Did you know that? So don't stand there in a green sweatshirt and stick the hat on. Jeez.
Slip into the jacket. Snug 'er down. Feel the wieght of The Kitchen on your shoulders.
It buttons, very deliberately; this rote and lengthy starched-button-hole-enlarging monologue really drains the brain and prepares you for the next step.
I think they put the hat on last because if they put it on first, with their cowboy six-guns they wear for the street, people would laugh. Even the Korean help. Would laugh; and there goes France. And Chef Fiefdom. Can't think of what else to call them, except a Fiefdom.
Fiefdum, maybe.
Then grab a seven-and-a-half from the long pile and flop open the hat. God I hope you get your size. Try some caps at Target first. The seam goes in the back. Okay, now, ta-da, FIND A MIRROR.
The only place there's going to be one is a bathroom. You have to go there, your first Chef Hat Time, to see what you look like. Chef's never go to mirrors to see what they look like; when they are "getting dressed;" because they Know what they look like. They're white, with tall hats, and you can't tell much else. It's like a disguise; and maybe because of this anonymity the whole hat thing can happen.
DO NOT SCRUNCH DOWN AND LOOK IN A POT OR KETTLE FOR YOUR REFLECTION.
Besides ruining "the proportions," and the fact that the reflection won't fit, stupid, THEY will KNOW you are not a chef! Duh!!! DUH!! How many times do I have to coach you?
CHEFS NEVER DO THAT.
But go and see how stupid you look. And then you will SEE; UNDERSTAND; why this is bothering me.
Until you reach that point in your life where you are wearing a Chef hat, I don't think you will understand.
Why it's bugging me.
So much.
BUGGING.
"WHAT'S WITH THE HAT??"
THAT'S what I want to know.
I await their explanation.
Sure; like they have one.
It bugs me enough that I had to stop and write about it.
MAN; I get bugged.
It's those stupid hats! |
