Aujourd’hui cook bids adieu to a grand old dame

I know this because I was on the other side of the swinging kitchen doors for 2 1/2 years. I honestly loved working there. When the restaurant closed, I lost my job. Six weeks ago, the hotel announced that because of a long-term slump in fine dining, Aujourd’hui will start hosting private functions. The hotel’s banquet staff will prepare and serve the food.

So I am out of work, but if it’s possible to be laid off nicely, that’s how the management did it. Six weeks ago I arrived at the hotel on one of those brilliant, sunny spring days and was informed of a meeting for both the front- and back-of-the-house staffs. This was unusual, since meeting topics are typically different for cooks and service staff.

We quickly segregated ourselves, eight cooks and chefs on one side of the room, 20 or so service staff crowded on the other.

“What is going on?’’ someone from the kitchen asked a comrade.

“It’s that fish you burned last night. The guest is pissed,’’ came the answer.

“Maybe raises all around,’’ offered another nervous employee.

It reminded me of the moment in 2006 when I was called into a similar room at another Four Seasons property, the Ritz-Carlton in Chicago. I had been a line cook in its restaurant, The Dining Room, for two years. I am a Midwest native, and the reason I returned to Boston, where I went to school, was not out of nostalgia for East Coast drivers or chowdah, but because the company transferred me when the restaurant closed.

In Boston, there were no offers of other jobs but we were not ushered out the door either. They gave us a month’s notice, that day off (with pay), a severance package, and offers of services. But frankly most of it was a blur.

I had worked my way around the Aujourd’hui kitchen. I started at the pantry station, preparing salads, cold appetizers, and hors d’oeuvres. I moved to the entremetier station, where I prepared the famous lobster bisque, pastas, side dishes, and vegetarian entrees. The next progression was fish: countless butter-poached lobsters and pan-seared halibut.

Finally, I landed at the meat station. If at any point this spring you ordered Colorado rack of lamb with ricotta gnocchi, or Painted Hills beef strip loin with mustard greens, I probably made it. When work was done at 11 p.m., I would sometimes join friends at Eastern Standard (a restaurant industry hangout).

Working in a fine-dining restaurant is a bit like putting on a theatrical production. Each member of the cast has a role to play and has to do it well in order for the show to succeed. It’s the kind of teamwork that doesn’t allow for moodiness or attitude. We’re all in this together.

The day after we were given notice, co-workers in other departments were genuinely concerned. We were all quick to temper with short periods of apathy and overwhelming fatigue.

Nights, I dusted off my resume and thought a little about my life in the 11 years since I went to Johnson & Wales University culinary school. I began as a banquet cook at the Museum of Science here, worked at Grill 23 & Bar, then Radius. There were kitchen adventures in Ireland, Belgium, and a year in France.

I come from a long line of good cooks. I was raised in rural Southern Indiana. My parents, both from farming families, planted corn and all kinds of other vegetables and fruits so my mother could can and freeze enough for the winter. Every year, we bought a calf and a pig from a neighboring farmer. I was expected to participate in the transformation of food from seed to supper. I’m a long way from that now.

The hotel’s human resources department offered useful information that I didn’t want to face immediately. Finally I took a peek at job websites and tried to form a picture of what the restaurant business looks like. In many corners, it’s bleak.

I’m a different cook today than I was before working at the hotel. I think of myself as meticulous, but chef de cuisine William Kovel is demanding. He treated us like we were chefs in our own right. I could come up with ideas, which he would retouch and put on the menu, including a vegetarian quinoa dish that I developed and began preparing as an entree.

We were also held accountable for excesses and shortages at our stations. When you work in a prestigious kitchen, you’re always mindful of quality. If I didn’t feel like something was up to our standards, I didn’t serve it. Period. The rare glimpses of Chef Kovel’s temper were when this decision was not made earlier and someone put unacceptable food out for his review.

A new kitchen somewhere awaits each of us, along with another team, and another fastidious chef. I feel sad, of course, but also lucky to have had this experience. I think that every cook from Aujourd’hui who walks by the hotel and thinks about our kitchen and that beautiful dining room will feel the same way.