A kitchen is only as strong as its dishwasher. Not the machine (though hopefully that's in good working order), but the person who daily performs the wet, thankless, finger pruning task of washing every dish and scrubbing every pot in the place. I am thankful to previous chefs who taught me to treat them well, sneak over little treats (salmon collar snacks!) and show respect to the guy who often doesn't get a whole lot of it. This translates to how I feel about the entire kitchen staff: they are the rock and the wheels of a restaurant. And most of them are immigrants, some legal some not.
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Karina, Cesar & Maynor - this particular day they all stayed long after closing to help me tackle a huge box of black eyed peas for a private dinner.