A HEARTY BREAKFAST

Evans Terminal Road was dark and still at 6:15 a.m. James Lockhart strode past the main entrance to the FoodBank, which he knew would be locked. Walking along the flank of the building, about the length of a city block, he spotted a lone car parked at the far end. Then he saw a ribbon of lights in the high windows above the kitchen. At the door to the kitchen, he knocked impatiently. Chef Ron Nicholas, in his office more than 50 feet away, finally heard the banging and let him in. No one else was on the premises. 

The chef, who famously opens up the kitchen at 6 a.m., hadn’t expected members of the breakfast crew for another hour. But James was awake early and eager to get started. Why linger in his half-way house when he could retrieve eggs and fixings from the walk-in refrigerator and ready the grill for bacon and sausages? Cooking breakfast, James knows, requires organization as well as finesse and speed. He has good reason to know. His resume includes nine years as a cook at St. Peters Hospital in New Brunswick and twelve at the Continuing Education Center at Rutgers. For several years at Rutgers, he held a second, evening job - - as the University President’s personal chef. Now, after 12 months in prison on a drug conviction, he looks forward to returning to the workforce. He’s using this opportunity, James says, to upgrade his skills. 

At a little past 7 a.m., when I arrive in the kitchen, I find two students studying the breakfast menu and two others writing up their orders. They hand their requests to Yettie (Kenyetta) Montford, a tall handsome woman with a sassy smile. Kenyetta, her given name, means “blessed and anointed.” At the school, these qualities are manifest in her optimism and irrepressible high spirits. She missed her bus this morning, Yettie says, but didn't let that derail her. Walking briskly from Chancellor Avenue in Newark, she arrived in the kitchen on time. Our team’s into the routine, she says. The routine, it’s clear, gives her energy and satisfaction.

With James (pictured) at the stove and two other students working the grill, they box up orders like pros. Two over easy, Yettie sings out. James breaks the eggs in a dish and slides them into a small frying pan. He turns the gas all the way up, lets the butter bubble and the edges of the eggs turn brown. He pulls the pan off the fire, gives it a practiced jerk, and watches the eggs tumble neatly into place. After another 30 seconds of high heat, James drops the eggs into a white Styrofoam box which he pushes in Yettie's direction.

It was slow this morning, Yettie says as she and the crew are wiping down their work stations: only sixteen student orders (out of a class of 52) and five staff breakfasts. Must be Monday, she adds.  Yettie is also an experienced cook. She was a partner for a while in a soul food restaurant in Newark and did all the cooking four days a week. In a kitchen the size of a closet she turned out great grits, collard greens, fried chicken and other African American favorites. Customers really appreciated the food, she says. She relished the work and the confidence it gave her. But her partners were her baby's father and his girl friend - - an arrangement not made in heaven. She had invested (and lost) $5,000 in the business. It was money she saved in a 401K over several years of working for Prudential. She should have known better, Yettie says.

Breakfast is a big perk for most students. It’s free, hot, ample, and freshly made. Orders are filled until 8:30 a.m. Then the crew cleans up and grabs a few minutes for their own eggs, pancakes or waffles. The breakfast cooks rotate. Like James, Yettie, and their co-workers, every student gets to practice on the griddle and at the stove - - for one week (during the 14 week program) coinciding with his/her assignment as sous chef.

In each class there are those who calculate how long they can linger in bed (especially on a Monday) and still make it to the FoodBank by 9 am. For them, breakfast is not an option. There are others with kids to get off to school or family obligations; they also miss out on what the average American considers a positive start to the day.

Among Yettie (pictured) and James’ classmates, there’s a common understanding about breakfast. Students know it’s a critical meal; they know it fuels the body and the brain. Probably they’ve heard warnings that a hearty breakfast of eggs and bacon with potatoes and toast is not a healthy breakfast. Some worry about cholesterol and hypertension; just about everyone has a relative who suffers from diabetes, obesity or heart disease. Those numbers, especially among African Americans and Latinos, are increasing at a frightening pace.

Still, eating is about pleasure, not punishment. And cooks take their food pleasures (commonly tied to salt, sugar and fat) seriously.  For the moment, FSTA students aren’t clamoring for granola and yogurt with fresh fruit. And the staff isn’t promoting a lighter diet. In fact, the healthy alternative usually costs more than bacon and eggs. It costs more - -  unless granola were to be made in-house from oats, seeds, nuts, dried fruit, a drizzle of honey, and a touch of crystallized ginger. But that's a story for another time.

In this chilly autumn season, students want - - and the food service industry still wants - - James and Yettie at the stove. They expect breakfast cooks to turn out omelets to their specifications: runny or firm, with onions and peppers or cheese and mushrooms, with a side of bacon or with turkey sausages. Students, like the proverbial Starbuck's aficionado, value customized service. They don’t get it often enough.

The recession, students know, clouds their future prospects. Job-related anxieties rank at the top of the national agenda. Clever restaurants, responding to the public mood, are promoting comfort foods. In this punishing economy, James and Yettie are glad to be in school. Both tackle their morning chores with gusto.” I like getting the eggs just right,” James says, ”and not letting the cheese stick to the pan.”  Yettie smiles as she hands a student his pancakes with butter and syrup. That smile is important, too.

Doris Friedensohn

November 1, 2009

(Doris Friedensohn is Professor Emerita at New Jersey City University. She writes about eating, education, feminism, and social change. A chapter in her food memoir, Eating as I Go: Scenes from America and Abroad, published in 2006 by the University Press of Kentucky, deals with the Food Service Training Academy.)

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