A Couple of Drops, One Swap, and a Drug Story

Kitchen Confessional | Box of Chocolates Edition

Let the Confessions Begin!

We are all in this together, from the oops, I burned it, to the oh, SUGAR, I forgot to add the salt, to the CODE RED, I spilled 13 glasses of champagne all over the bride! (We will get into that later.) Butter Cult is a safe space to share your deepest, darkest kitchen moments. In doing this, you will not only get it off your chest, but you will also help us ALL learn and grow by sharing YOUR stories. The kitchen is not that serious, and we should be having more fun with our failures.

Did you cry in the bathroom? Maybe. Did you get fired from your job? Hopefully not. Did you learn a thing or two? Probably! We want your stories so we can learn the lessons. I am talking to you, cutie🥧.

The confessions this week are like a box of chocolates; you never know what you are going to get.

I asked and y’all answered! Let’s get into some confessions.

In culinary school, I dropped and broke an entire bottle of fish sauce right by the door to the dining room 💀 right before service, of course! Franzie

Of course, it was the WHOLE bottle of fish sauce, which is pungent, and of course, it was RIGHT in front of the door, which in mere moments was about to turn into the Long Island Expressway on a summer Friday afternoon, when the 9-5ers only have the Hamptons and a gallon of rosé on the brain. Nothing will stop them from putting on their linen pants!

What’s the lesson here? Sometimes an accident is just an accident. Which seems to be the case in this story. BUT, I have a story about dropping things, and there is definitely a lesson to be learned.

I was working at an event center many years ago, one of those generic places that have in-house catering, linen packages, flower add-ons, and unique floor plans tailored to YOU 🧐. I was a server, which entailed passing appetizers, filling the buffet, bussing dishes, and performing the standard server duties. This specific event was a wedding, and the beautiful bride requested a Champagne toast at some point during the reception (as she should). All the servers gathered in the kitchen to prepare the flutes of bubbly. I started piling the flutes onto a circular tray the size of a pizza, no thought to anything besides, I have more room on the tray, so I am going to load more flutes. We all start to walk out into the reception hall to pass the flutes out to the guests. The bride’s table was directly on my trajectory, so I went for her. Walking slowly and steadily, my breath started to quicken as I realized that I may be mere moments away from a disaster. I continued, and by the time I got to the bride whose dress was splayed out all around her, the glasses had started to teeter, the first one took a hard lean, and then it was all over. The flutes dominoed straight onto the Bride’s lap! Oopsie doodle. I apologized profusely and ran to grab towels. She was not terribly upset but definitely not pleased about the situation. Glad you didn’t want a red wine toast, were my parting words to the bride 🤦‍♀️. She did NOT find that amusing.

What is the lesson here? Know your limits. Had I ever carried 17 flutes full of champagne on a tray before? Nope. Should anyone ever do that? Probably not. Knowing your limits in the kitchen will help you not get yourself into a pickle. Maybe don’t commit to cooking the whole Thanksgiving dinner if you have never done it before. Maybe don’t host a party that serves only pie when you have never made a pie crust. Maybe don’t host a 12-course dinner party if you have never cooked for anyone but yourself and, of course, your dog. Maybe don’t carry 23 top-heavy glasses all at once, AKA know your limits. There is NO shame in understanding what you are and are not capable of. Carrying all those flutes was completely unnecessary, but you could definitely work up to the 12-course dinner party!

Have you ever been midway through a recipe and realized that you did not have a necessary ingredient? Before the days of DoorDash, when we could not just bat an eye and have a quart of cream magically appear on our doorstep, and after the good old days of asking your neighbor for a cup of sugar. This is when we did our best improvising, for better or for worse.

I tried to use shortening as a butter substitute and made a very weird, very gross cookie. Peach

You know this is an unfortunate situation because the cookie recipe I used to make ALL the time growing up involved a cup of butter-flavored shortening, so in theory, this should have worked for our dear friend. I am guessing the ratio may have been off? OR maybe she used regular shortening instead of the butter-flavored kind?

What is the lesson here? I think she did the correct thing in this situation; this was not an unreasonable swap. It’s not like she didn’t have any sugar and decided to add almond paste instead —that would be ridiculous. She thought fat for a fat, what could go wrong? Turns out texture, flavor, and the whole damn cookie was trash. This is part of being in the kitchen; sometimes things just don’t work out. We will praise her for her problem-solving mindset and the willingness to just try anyway! This is the most important lesson we can learn in the kitchen.

The next story is about drugs. Drugs and alcohol use are notoriously part of the kitchen culture, and I do not condone the use of drugs. BUT, I included this story cause it definitely is a confession and I think we can learn something, even if it’s what not to do.

A night guy sweeping up found a bag of white powder (dropped by a daytime guy), I was managing, and “didn’t see anything.” He went home, tested it, weighed it, then sold it to another guy working there … 😅😏 Mike

What’s the lesson here? DON’T DO DRUGS AND STAY IN SCHOOL! I do respect this person’s entrepreneurial spirit, though, that doesn’t just grow on trees, and we can leave it at that.

Isn’t this so fun?! Keep the confessions coming, y’all! I am having a blast, and we are learning and laughing. Share your kitchen confessions with us! I will highlight them in the upcoming kitchen confessional newsletters. No story is too long, too short, too juicy, too grotesque; we need to hear them ALL. This week’s variety was a good representation of nothing is off-limits. Maybe one time I will tell you the goat cheese story, I was working in a dirty little kitchen on the Lower East Side... Respond to this email, shoot me a DM, or send me a carrier pigeon, whatever you've got to do to get me those confessions🙏.

Cheers,

Nicole | Butter Cult