I'm continuing on with the theme of growing up in the back end of a Mexican Restaurant. This week I take you to my high school years. If you're enjoying these stories, don't forget to drop me a line. Hearing from you always encourages me to do more
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Prepping for a friend's party The El Sombrero Restaurant had been open for a couple of years. I was in high school by this time. Every day after school, I rushed to the restaurant, did my homework in a booth in the back, ate a quick dinner and was ready to cook dinner shift. My shift began at five pm and ended when we closed at nine pm.
Closing was not just locking the doors. At the end of each night, all the food had to be stored in the refrigerator, the steam and cold tables broken down and cleaned, the grill cleaned, the dishes, pots and pans all washed and put away and the floors swept and mopped.
I got pretty good at cleaning up at the end of the shift. At eight thirty, if we weren’t busy, I started pulling the food from the steam table and storing it in plastic containers. If an order drifted in, I could prepare it from the containers. By nine o’clock I had the steam and cold tables put away and clean and the dishes all washed up. That left the floors.
I could sweep and mop the kitchen floor, but if there were customers in the dining room, I had to wait until they left to clean the dining room. The waitresses were responsible for tearing down and cleaning the dining room and service areas. When the last customer left, I broke down the til, then rushed to clean the floors. My goal was always to get out as quickly as possible so that I could get home and get some sleep before I had to get up for school in the morning.
Breaking down the til was an easy task. First I would have the cash register total the sales for the day, then remove the cash register tape and replace it with a fresh tape if needed. Then I took out all the bills and checks and put them in a bank bag. Finally, the coins went into separate envelopes so that they were easy to count in the morning. Papa’s favorite job was to count the money and make out the bank deposit. He could feel the progress we made each day by counting out the nickels and quarters.
We were a real seat-of-the-pants, mom and pop operation. We didn’t have a safe in which to store the money each night. When we first opened the restaurant, Mama closed every night and brought home the receipts with her, then Papa took the money back to the restaurant in the morning when he went in to open. Somewhere along the line we decided that it wasn’t a good idea to be walking around late at night with all that cash on us. By all that cash I mean a hundred dollars or so. We put about twenty-five dollars in the til every morning to start the day and our goal for the day was to take in more than one hundred dollars. On a really good day, we might do one hundred fifty or more dollars.
When we realized the jeopardy that we were in, carrying all the cash around, Papa came up with a solution to the problem. We had two plastic thirty gallon trash cans that we used to store beans and rice. Each can would just hold a one-hundred-pound sack of beans or rice. Every night when I closed, I buried the bank bag with the money in the bean can. Our reasoning was that no self-respecting thief would ever think to look in the bean can for money. It worked, well we were never robbed so we don’t know if it worked or not, but we never lost any money.
After the til was broken down and put away, I swept and mopped the dining room floor while the waitress washed up the last customers’ dishes. By closing time, we were always anxious to go home. The waitress knew that she would be taking no more tables and there would be no more tips for the night. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. On some nights, when the last customers of the day lingered over their meal, I swept the floor in the other side of the dining room and sing “Perfidia.” I have possibly the worst voice in human history. My singing always cleared the dining room so that we could go home.
Closing was not just locking the doors. At the end of each night, all the food had to be stored in the refrigerator, the steam and cold tables broken down and cleaned, the grill cleaned, the dishes, pots and pans all washed and put away and the floors swept and mopped.
I got pretty good at cleaning up at the end of the shift. At eight thirty, if we weren’t busy, I started pulling the food from the steam table and storing it in plastic containers. If an order drifted in, I could prepare it from the containers. By nine o’clock I had the steam and cold tables put away and clean and the dishes all washed up. That left the floors.
I could sweep and mop the kitchen floor, but if there were customers in the dining room, I had to wait until they left to clean the dining room. The waitresses were responsible for tearing down and cleaning the dining room and service areas. When the last customer left, I broke down the til, then rushed to clean the floors. My goal was always to get out as quickly as possible so that I could get home and get some sleep before I had to get up for school in the morning.
Breaking down the til was an easy task. First I would have the cash register total the sales for the day, then remove the cash register tape and replace it with a fresh tape if needed. Then I took out all the bills and checks and put them in a bank bag. Finally, the coins went into separate envelopes so that they were easy to count in the morning. Papa’s favorite job was to count the money and make out the bank deposit. He could feel the progress we made each day by counting out the nickels and quarters.
We were a real seat-of-the-pants, mom and pop operation. We didn’t have a safe in which to store the money each night. When we first opened the restaurant, Mama closed every night and brought home the receipts with her, then Papa took the money back to the restaurant in the morning when he went in to open. Somewhere along the line we decided that it wasn’t a good idea to be walking around late at night with all that cash on us. By all that cash I mean a hundred dollars or so. We put about twenty-five dollars in the til every morning to start the day and our goal for the day was to take in more than one hundred dollars. On a really good day, we might do one hundred fifty or more dollars.
When we realized the jeopardy that we were in, carrying all the cash around, Papa came up with a solution to the problem. We had two plastic thirty gallon trash cans that we used to store beans and rice. Each can would just hold a one-hundred-pound sack of beans or rice. Every night when I closed, I buried the bank bag with the money in the bean can. Our reasoning was that no self-respecting thief would ever think to look in the bean can for money. It worked, well we were never robbed so we don’t know if it worked or not, but we never lost any money.
After the til was broken down and put away, I swept and mopped the dining room floor while the waitress washed up the last customers’ dishes. By closing time, we were always anxious to go home. The waitress knew that she would be taking no more tables and there would be no more tips for the night. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. On some nights, when the last customers of the day lingered over their meal, I swept the floor in the other side of the dining room and sing “Perfidia.” I have possibly the worst voice in human history. My singing always cleared the dining room so that we could go home.
A chile relleno. Nummy!
We gave each combination plate dinner on the menu a name. The El Sombrero had an enchilada, a tamal and a taco. The El Estudiante (the student) had an enchilada and a taco. The El Gordo (the fatso) had an enchilada, a tamal, a taco and a chile relleno. That was too much food to fit on one plate, even with the big platters that we used, so we put the chile relleno on a six-inch side plate. The El Gordo was our top of the line meal, costing two dollars and ninety-five cents.
At El Sombrero we made chile rellenos to order. When a waitress brought in an order with a chile relleno, she called it out so that the cooks would know to get it started ahead of the rest of the meal, so that all the food would be hot and ready at the same time.
In the back of the kitchen, we had a food prep area that Papa dubbed “the glory hole.” In the glory hole, we separated the egg white from the yolk for the chile relleno and beat it with an electric mixer until it was stiff. Then we gently folded in the egg yolk back in. When this was done, we added a green chile, stuffed with cheddar cheese. In the mean time, we had lit a fire under a cast iron egg pan to heat the pan. When we had the chile and egg ready, we poured them into the egg pan to fry. A few minutes on each side turned them a golden brown.
After the egg was cooked, we scooped the chile relleno out of the pan with a spatula and put it on the side dish. Then we smothered it with ranchera sauce, topped it with cheddar cheese and put it in the broiler to melt the cheese. While the relleno was cooking, it puffed up like a soufflé. When it was ready, the waitress had to serve it immediately so that it would not cool down and loose the air. Mama always pounded into us that “you eat with your eyes.” The presentation of the food was as important as the taste.
On this particular night Red Mary was closing with me. We had four Marys working for us. There was Big Mary, Little Mary, Red Mary (because she had red hair) and Maria Canadiana (Canadian Mary). When my mother posted the schedule each week, she used these names to identify them.
“El Gordos a pair,” Mary called as she hung up a ticket for me. The last party of the night slipped in at ten minutes ‘til nine. They were a young attractive couple, he was wearing a suit and tie, she was in a nice dress, unusual attire for our regular customer base. They ordered the most complicated dinners on the menu and I was going to have to make chile rellenos for them.
“Ay como friegas,” I swore under my breath. Not only did this couple have the audacity to come in at closing time, they ordered the biggest meal on the menu. I dropped back to the glory hole and started separating the eggs for their chile rellenos.
As the chiles cooked in their little cast-iron skillets, I made the enchiladas and popped them under the broiler. When the enchiladas were cooked, I unwrapped two tamales from their hojas (corn husks) and placed them on the plate, covering them in a rich red chile sauce, then quickly made two tacos. By this time, the chile rellenos were through cooking in the broiler and four plates were steaming under the heat lamps, waiting for Mary to pick them up. I pulled the ticket from the clip, rang the bell on the counter and shouted “Mary, order up,” in best diner fashion.
All the plates we served were hot from the oven. Our waitresses, using pot holders, could only carry two plates at a time. Since the El Gordo took two plates to serve, that meant that Mary made two trips to the table. Red Mary grabbed the large platters and ran towards the dining room. Our goal was always to serve the plates while they were still sizzling.
Since it was now after closing time and we were anxious to clean up and go home, I mopped the kitchen and half the dining room already. While Mary was serving the first two plates to our late customers, I grabbed the mop and quickly mopped the service area. Just as I returned the mop to the bucket, Mary came back to pick up the side plates with the steaming chiles rellenos.
She grabbed the plates and turned to rush them to the table while they were still puffy from the hot air. As she took her first step towards the dining room, she slipped on the wet floor and went skidding. Both plates flew from her hands as she landed on her back side.
The first plate went high into the air, turning over and over like a punted football. It made a perfect circle as it went straight up, then dropped back down into her lap. Mary didn’t have time to think, just react. Somehow, she had managed to hang onto the two potholders that she was using to serve the hot plates. As the hot plate with the chile relleno dropped into her lap, she grabbed at it and plucked it out of the air.
The second chile relleno plate took a different course. It flew out of the service area and across the dining room. It arched through the air, flew over the lady’s head and skidded to a halt on the table, in front of the gentleman. Mary could not have tossed the plate to such a perfect position if she had tried.
“Now that’s fast service,” the man said, laughing and spitting a mouthful of refried beans all over the table as he caught the plate. The second chile relleno had been saved and the late-night customers served, quickly and efficiently.
At El Sombrero we made chile rellenos to order. When a waitress brought in an order with a chile relleno, she called it out so that the cooks would know to get it started ahead of the rest of the meal, so that all the food would be hot and ready at the same time.
In the back of the kitchen, we had a food prep area that Papa dubbed “the glory hole.” In the glory hole, we separated the egg white from the yolk for the chile relleno and beat it with an electric mixer until it was stiff. Then we gently folded in the egg yolk back in. When this was done, we added a green chile, stuffed with cheddar cheese. In the mean time, we had lit a fire under a cast iron egg pan to heat the pan. When we had the chile and egg ready, we poured them into the egg pan to fry. A few minutes on each side turned them a golden brown.
After the egg was cooked, we scooped the chile relleno out of the pan with a spatula and put it on the side dish. Then we smothered it with ranchera sauce, topped it with cheddar cheese and put it in the broiler to melt the cheese. While the relleno was cooking, it puffed up like a soufflé. When it was ready, the waitress had to serve it immediately so that it would not cool down and loose the air. Mama always pounded into us that “you eat with your eyes.” The presentation of the food was as important as the taste.
On this particular night Red Mary was closing with me. We had four Marys working for us. There was Big Mary, Little Mary, Red Mary (because she had red hair) and Maria Canadiana (Canadian Mary). When my mother posted the schedule each week, she used these names to identify them.
“El Gordos a pair,” Mary called as she hung up a ticket for me. The last party of the night slipped in at ten minutes ‘til nine. They were a young attractive couple, he was wearing a suit and tie, she was in a nice dress, unusual attire for our regular customer base. They ordered the most complicated dinners on the menu and I was going to have to make chile rellenos for them.
“Ay como friegas,” I swore under my breath. Not only did this couple have the audacity to come in at closing time, they ordered the biggest meal on the menu. I dropped back to the glory hole and started separating the eggs for their chile rellenos.
As the chiles cooked in their little cast-iron skillets, I made the enchiladas and popped them under the broiler. When the enchiladas were cooked, I unwrapped two tamales from their hojas (corn husks) and placed them on the plate, covering them in a rich red chile sauce, then quickly made two tacos. By this time, the chile rellenos were through cooking in the broiler and four plates were steaming under the heat lamps, waiting for Mary to pick them up. I pulled the ticket from the clip, rang the bell on the counter and shouted “Mary, order up,” in best diner fashion.
All the plates we served were hot from the oven. Our waitresses, using pot holders, could only carry two plates at a time. Since the El Gordo took two plates to serve, that meant that Mary made two trips to the table. Red Mary grabbed the large platters and ran towards the dining room. Our goal was always to serve the plates while they were still sizzling.
Since it was now after closing time and we were anxious to clean up and go home, I mopped the kitchen and half the dining room already. While Mary was serving the first two plates to our late customers, I grabbed the mop and quickly mopped the service area. Just as I returned the mop to the bucket, Mary came back to pick up the side plates with the steaming chiles rellenos.
She grabbed the plates and turned to rush them to the table while they were still puffy from the hot air. As she took her first step towards the dining room, she slipped on the wet floor and went skidding. Both plates flew from her hands as she landed on her back side.
The first plate went high into the air, turning over and over like a punted football. It made a perfect circle as it went straight up, then dropped back down into her lap. Mary didn’t have time to think, just react. Somehow, she had managed to hang onto the two potholders that she was using to serve the hot plates. As the hot plate with the chile relleno dropped into her lap, she grabbed at it and plucked it out of the air.
The second chile relleno plate took a different course. It flew out of the service area and across the dining room. It arched through the air, flew over the lady’s head and skidded to a halt on the table, in front of the gentleman. Mary could not have tossed the plate to such a perfect position if she had tried.
“Now that’s fast service,” the man said, laughing and spitting a mouthful of refried beans all over the table as he caught the plate. The second chile relleno had been saved and the late-night customers served, quickly and efficiently.
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