Best Staff Meal of My Life

Paid Recipe: Dill & Preserved Lemon Chicken Pies with Chili Tahini

Dill & Preserved Lemon Chicken Pies with Chili Tahini, 2024.

Alice Waters got that “Good Good”

Picture this: June 2012, I’m freshly entering the chat of the Bay Area. I have my sights set on one job and one job only, Chez Panisse. I spent almost two glorious albeit rough years at Per Se and desperately wanted a fresh start recalibrating my relationship with restaurants. My high octane application of pristine professionalism packaged immaculately didn’t seem to work for Chez Panisse. I sent a “DO NOT FOLD” envelope directed towards the general manager with a current update of my CV, a cover letter and letter of recommendation sealed in vinyl, free of imperfections. The formula worked in my favor at Per Se, surely Chez Panisse would find the same execution admirable. I was in the Bay but I didn’t have the job yet. Risk was mounting, then I got the call. A lovely woman named Renee agreed to meet me in person to discuss employment. After a brief moment of dread, I sung wax poetic enough to land a position at the church of farm to table.

My experience didn’t earn respect amongst the employees. I was often met with, “Per Se? So, it’s a restaurant in New York?” On a short but deliberate trip to the Bay Area I went to visit my friend Lindsay who was working at Bouchon in Napa. I believed it was necessary to have a religious experience with dinner at Chez Panisse. She was pregnant with her first son and my enthusiasm was enough to combat the discomfort of pregnancy. A lovely Italian server greeted us in the porch section of the restaurant downstairs. His tenured confidence was beyond charming, almost fairytale like. The peace and low volume rendered me to a place of idealism, “I want to work here.” I could tell everyone was respected and taken care, a rare feeling in the world of restaurants at the time. Lindsay, being the cheerleader she is said, “You should.”

I lived on a quiet street in El Cerrito living with a woman on disability for carpal tunnel. She seemed more interested in collecting rent so she could plan a trip to Nepal than me living there. In a brief introductory meeting it was explained to me that everyone at Chez Panisse starts out in the café upstairs before they move to the restaurant. After getting to know the staff, they told me that the more attractive servers tend to get moved downstairs. I cannot verify if this is true, but rumors do spread like wildfire in restaurants. Immediately I stood out by my prowess in cutting bread. Showing up and supporting everyone was my greatest pleasure in working there. It does pay to be a “yes person.” The days were rather easy and straightforward, but I was shocked at how well we were fed.

There was a Californian confidence in the service and the food. Everyone accepted the commitment in each other and it was reciprocated with incredible benefits. On your birthday you were gifted a meal for two. There were discounts on purchased wine at Kermit Lynch. You wouldn’t be charged corkage if you brought your own bottles to dinner. There was a staff discount as well. You were allowed to taste the daily menu, all new for each shift. At the end of your day, we’d sit collectively for family meal coupled with a glass of wine or beer. Platters of tender new potatoes, a brimming bowl of aïoli and salmon wrapped in fig leaves were offered in abundance. We ate what the guests ate. Chicken al Mattone, lemon and Armenian cucumbers soaking in drinkable red wine vinegar and the occasional pizzetta would find its way into our staff meals.

Nourishment, especially of a notable kind, brings gratitude to surface. You understand when you’ve have enough. You don’t source fulfillment when you’re properly cared for. This is what Chez Panisse does so well. There was potential to make more money elsewhere, but the way in which they took care of you was incomparable. The workplace jokes were “feel good” funny and not rooted in sarcasm or at anyone’s expense. Creativity had an open channel and one could express themselves safely in the walls of Chez Panisse. The nourishment provided was borderline healing.

After being in the trenches of Per Se, I needed to experience a restaurant like Chez Panisse. My faith restored. All previous family meals were about fuel, gathering strength to enter battle. The family meals at Chez Panisse are communal offerings guaranteed to bring you closer to your colleagues. If service was challenging, we’d take pleasure in sitting down, letting go and allowing the food to soften the bristly feeling of a tough day. The imagery of everyone gathering to eat and talk made me realize that if other restaurants applied a similar principle perhaps all of the hard work would seem sustainable.

I remember one night we were eating quail for family meal downstairs in the restaurant. A generous gift of a few birds tended to in the hearth by the legendary Amy Dencler. The quail were lacquered with a brush made of rosemary and served with roasted grapes. One of our teammates was vegetarian and before she could show a look of disapproval over the poultry feast, she was gifted fresh taglitelle with chanterelle mushrooms and parmesan. Have you ever had chanterelle mushrooms for family meal in a restaurant? Only at Chez Panisse. The brass furnishings in the restaurant would collect portions of our silhouettes. When you bent down to change a table or clear your might catch your own gaze, often in gratitude. The polished sheen capturing an alternate world of content restaurant employees. Fully nourished and eager to serve.