We are in the midst of Line Cook Summer. Thanks to the sudden—and rightful—popularity of FX’s TV series The Bear, the general public is now exposed to a particular type of man who has handed me plates over a kitchen pass in New York fine dining restaurants over the past 15 years. I can’t speak to the accuracy of The Bear in terms of the Chicago of it all, but as a bartender, I know this guy when I see him on a screen. His aesthetic, his vibe, his forearms full of burn scars—it all coalesces in what I lovingly call the Sexually Competent Dirtbag Line Cook.
If you’ve ever waited in vain for a text back from a man with no bed frame in his apartment, you’re already pretty familiar with this type. Imagine no-bed-frame man, but he only drinks from plastic quart containers and cooks a spaghetti carbonara that will make you write in your journal for the first time since high school. Has he showered today? No. Are you going to be the one to change him and make him want to settle down? Also no!
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What if Pete Davidson drank even less water? That’s what Sexually Competent Dirtbag Line Cook looks like. He’s usually covered in tattoos—look for the signature dual knives on his forearms. He perpetually smells like a campfire, partly because he works over an open flame, but mostly because he spends his nights burning through a pack of American Spirits out on his favorite dive bar’s smoking patio. He will send the same exact text in response to your artful nude as he did when you told him your childhood cat died: “whoa lol.”
The thing is, I love this guy and all the iterations of him I’ve worked with. Beneath his surly demeanor and nihilistic outlook on life is a man who takes an immense amount of pride in his work—not just in the food that goes out to the tables during service, but in the pre-shift family meal he makes on certain days of the week. You always hope it’s the day you’re working at the restaurant.
He may not be nice, but he is kind. Sexual harassers, creeps, and classic assholes exist in the kitchen, but this particular SCDLC is not one of them. He won’t say hello when you show up for your bartending shift, but he will remember your birthday and make everyone chicken parm sandwiches to celebrate before the lineup meeting. He may even join you and your front-of-house comrades for a beer after work, if you weren’t too annoying during service.
He’s a guy you date for about three to five very fun weeks, but don’t count on your “relationship” to last longer than the bottarga in his apartment refrigerator. I wish I had known that years ago, when I spent a very embarrassing few months pining over the lesbian version of this guy. The female SCDLC is all of the above; she’s just more diligent with composting.
So happy Line Cook Summer to all who celebrate. It’s like ramps season—enjoy it while you can.