Let's go Red Sox! (clap-clap-clapclapclap)
Once again, I get to be baby-sitting various saute pans full of fish and stirring little saucepots full of accoutrements and garnishes while the Red Sox play out the single most important game of the fucking year. Great. Just great.
Last year, during game six, Frakes sliced his hand open trying to cut butcher's twine and had to go to the hospital and was getting his hand stitched up while Heredia walked in that run, then returned to work to tell us about it. A true line cook, ladies and gentleman. And a true friend. I'm not saying that I necessarily want anyone to hurt themselves, but I am praying for a little divine intervention in finding out what the score is tonight...I don't think that having a cellphone out on the line in the middle of saturday night service will go over too well with chef.
I have faith in Arroyo. And I'm calling it right now: Big Da-Da and Manny are going off tonight. You heard it here first. Let's turn this thing around, boys!!!