It wasn’t the love of gastronomy or the passion for cooking that made me want to work in restaurants.
Growing up in the far east of the island, haute cuisine to me meant lasagna and chicken skewers. Every Tuesday we had steak with canned green beans for a change and on Wednesday we had pork chops with yellow beans for a change. We went to Old Duluth for special occasions. What a party!
Robert Penny, aka Bob the Chief, as a child.
Photo: Courtesy of Bob le Chef
I spent my weekends at my father’s snack bar on Avenue des Pins. At 15, with my little experience in the kitchen, I found my first job at Giorgio, the famous pasta restaurant best known for dimming the lights in the dining room at 7 p.m….
After spending a few years in this restaurant and other establishments east of Rue Viau, with no real destination or direction, I enrolled in Cuisine d’Establishment at the Institut de Tourisme et d’hôtellerie du Québec. I originally wanted a degree that would allow me to one day get a permanent job in a hospital cafeteria or perhaps join the banquet team at a hotel chain. Big dreams about gastronomy never occurred to me.
As with most of my school career up to that point, I was regressing. I particularly had difficulty with the very formal side of this institution. Students were expected to look good at all times. During theoretical lessons, a shirt and tie were required and in the kitchen you had to be clean-shaven and wear a chef’s hat.
Bob, right, during his training at ITHQ in 1997.
Photo: Courtesy of Bob le Chef
I still remember my first day when, after putting on my chef costume in the locker room, I didn’t dare go out into the hallway because I felt so ridiculous.
Despite everything, at the end of my second session the time for the internship came. One of my classmates recommended Le Globe to me and told me it was very famous. On my first evening there, I quickly realized that his reputation was more than deserved. At that time the chefs were Dave McMillan and Fred Morin, who a few years later opened the famous Joe Beef restaurant.
Politicians, lawyers, businessmen and even famous actors and actresses frequented here. Helen Hunt from the American sitcom Mad About You (very popular in the 90s) was in the dining room during my first service and surprisingly none of the staff seemed impressed. A real whirlwind for my mind. I had already served Patrick Normand at Giorgio, but here we were somewhere else.
Even though this was a jet-set eatery, the food was the real star. Each dish was prepared with care and attention to detail and contained ingredients I had never tried or heard of. I quickly realized that I knew nothing at all.
At the end of my ten-day internship, the boss called me into his office and asked me to join the team. He explained to me that if I accepted, I would perform my position without supervision. When he asked me if I felt up to the task, I had to admit no and decline the offer. I was shocked! To this day it remains one of my biggest failures.
Bob when he was a student at ITHQ in 1997.
Photo: Courtesy of Bob le Chef
The second round
Determined to exact revenge, I returned to ITHQ for my third session, soaking up books, videos (then VHS) and newspaper articles. I absorbed everything related to gastronomy to perfect my training, determined to try my luck again.
I devoured documentaries about Ducasse and Bernard Pacaud with the same passion that I previously displayed as a skater by consuming Tony Hawk videos. Instead of watching the boys make ollies, I sat down in front of PBS on Saturday mornings to listen to the great chef Jacques Pépin’s advice. I looked for everything I could to improve my cooking techniques.
The whole time I had one restaurant in mind: Le Méditerranéo on Saint-Laurent Boulevard. This institution enjoyed national recognition. Plus, it was right across from the Globe, where my pride had suffered a defeat.
I waited patiently for my chance. It must be understood that in 2001, job vacancies could not be found on the Internet, but in newspapers, where employers published their classified advertisements on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Le Journal de Montréal for more family-friendly restaurants and La Presse for more prestigious establishments.
One day I thought I was hallucinating when I came across a job offer as a warehouse worker in the famous Méditerranéo. This type of restaurant typically didn’t advertise job openings, not even in La Presse. My time had come!
When Bob le Chef saw this little advertisement in the pages of La Presse on August 24, 2001, he applied to Méditerranéo.
Photo: La presse, August 24, 2001, BAnQ Collections.
I rushed to get my resume printed. I pulled out my best (and only) white shirt. Unfortunately, I noticed a yellow tobacco stain on the fabric that I couldn’t get rid of. Since I didn’t have the time or money to buy a new shirt, I came up with the brilliant idea of covering the stain with some liquid concealer. In the kitchen, like in a closet, you have to know how to make do with the resources at your disposal…
Second problem: my belt. I only had one at the time and it was a studded belt. What to do? Do you take the belt and submit my resume with my shirt tucked in, or do you hide it by floating my shirt? I chose the first option.
As soon as I arrived at the restaurant, the two chefs, Zach Suhl and Michel Ross, greeted me and explained that this place was very demanding and the hours were long. I told them, probably without much conviction, that I wasn’t afraid.
I saw their eyes moving almost in sync with the stain on my shirt and studded belt. I don’t know if they believed me, but they gave me a chance. I started the next day at lunchtime. I didn’t know it then, but this change would be the first day of the rest of my life.
Bob the Chief.
Photo: Ariane Labrèche
When I arrived after a night of restless sleep, I discovered a real brigade in action. It was impressive: a dozen chefs and cooks were working furiously, all dressed in spotlessly clean, pristine white shirts camouflaged with concealer liquid.
It was fascinating to see how well they knew what to do without asking the chefs a single question. The kitchen resembled an anarchic choreography, seemingly without structure. However, every step was calculated in an atmosphere that was both chaotic and almost military. Imagine Anna Pavlova dancing to Les Foufounes Electriques or Baryshnikov crossing a minefield. You won’t find a better comparison.
The first part of the shift was mise en place, where the ingredients had to be prepared and processed. At first I was so nervous that my main focus was not to cut off my finger. My stress finally dissipated with the mountain of tasks that needed to be completed.
Peeling vegetables, pre-cooking them, preparing sauces, coulis and vinaigrette, filleting fresh, very fresh fish, cutting meat, cleaning squid, shrimp and other shellfish: from noon to 6 p.m. it was like a mini processing plant. I peeled and deveined 10kg of shrimp and received a compliment from the chef. I began to believe that all the hours I spent watching movies had served a purpose.
Despite the incredible pressure of preparing all this food before opening, it was a strange zen moment accompanied by music. Metal and hip-hop were usually the sounds of choice. It was also one of the rare moments when we were able to talk. A good cook could chat while working, a less good cook would stop work to chat.
My confidence returned just in time to face the second part of my day: service.
Bob in the kitchens of Misto, in 2006.
Photo: Courtesy of Bob le Chef
This is the moment of truth. I once heard a chef compare the service to a rock concert, with the Kitchen Brigade, of course, being the evening’s headliner. For my part, I assisted the pantry staff and those responsible for the cold appetizers and serving of desserts during the evening service. The pastry chef prepared the desserts in the morning, all we had to do was put them on the plate and decorate them with various toppings and sauces.
I was given the task of preparing the fried squid appetizer. I turned it into a real little work of art by arranging the squid on a couscous topped with a cookie cutter and decorated with an olive tapenade and parsley oil. I then completed the task of calcining the crème brûlées in a short amount of time.
I felt more and more comfortable.
That first day was long, very long. Finally, I went to the office at 1am to chat with chefs Zach and Michel. I was nervous but confident. They both told me that they were more than happy with my performance and that I would start full time the next day. Ten dollars an hour plus tips. I accepted without hesitation… I was completely exhausted, but I was overjoyed.
Bob when he was a chef at Misto on Mont-Royal Avenue in 2006.
Photo: Courtesy of Bob le Chef
A few years later, during a drunken evening, Zach confessed to me that my correction fluid trick was one of the reasons he hired me. He told me that a person who had the courage to do it deserved this chance.
I ended up spending three years of my life working with Zach and Michel in a few restaurants. Then I strolled through various establishments, from the private club where diplomats stayed, where I was under the direction of a despotic chef, to the lunch restaurant where I poached eggs for customers the day before.
Then I ended up in Misto. I became the director of this institution on Avenue du Mont-Royal, which eventually served as the setting for the novel Le Plongeur, which was then brought to the screen by my friend Stéphane Larue, with whom I worked there. Anyone who has read and/or seen it can imagine the atmosphere that existed there…
Bob le Chef during the filming of one of his first capsules in 2006.
Photo: Courtesy of Bob le Chef
In addition to my career as a chef, in 2005 I began recording video clips of recipes on the Internet in my rare free time. It was called “Culinary Anarchy,” a reference to the orderly chaos of the restaurant world in which I worked. For example, when I started cooking, I had no idea what I was getting into and where it would ultimately take me.
During these two decades in the restaurant business, no two days were the same. We didn’t know whether it would be quiet or hectic. We never knew what would happen: would the dining room be full? Would some customers not show up? Would the atmosphere be good? Would the customers be satisfied? Would the grease trap overflow? Would the sink have hot water? One thing was certain: if the evening went well, we would drink to celebrate, and if the evening was bad, we would drink to forget.
Was it always fun? NO. Did I start smoking cigarettes just to take a break? Yes. Have I become a borderline alcoholic? Probably. Did I have questions about my life choices? Surely. But the confidence and know-how I gained have shaped the person I am today.
And when I’m invited to events at ITHQ, I always wear a tie and stain-free shirts.
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Header illustration by Sophie Leclerc based on a photo by Ariane Labrèche
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