April 17

Ode to the Deli Container

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There may be no single object so important to a restaurant kitchen, yet so uncelebrated, as the humble plastic deli container. While we oooh and aaah at Viking stoves and All-Clad pans (which are pretty great), we tend to overlook this essential piece of restaurant equipment. Before the deli container, line cooks and chefs were in the dark ages of covering cambros in shrink-wrap – which had the failure rate of the North Korean missile program. In this modern and enlightened era, it’s nothing to set up your mise en place hours ahead, clean and portion delicate herbs, or save that last bit of soup at the end of the night.

To this day, there’s something uniquely satisfying about opening a deli container. The sound is difficult to describe, but some of our more informed readers already hear it in their not so distant memories of last night’s service. They’re cheap too, available at the restaurant supply store in long sleeves for less than 14¢ a unit (ok, so the lids come separately, but the point stands.)

fancy dinner

You can wash them in an industrial machine, you can drop them into your water circulator or combi-oven, and they don’t melt in a microwave. The lids are interchangeable and built for stacking so it’s easy to portion out ingredients and keep them in a low-boy or reach-in. During service, the cooks can just work their way through the prep with a very clear sense of how many portions they have before an item gets 86’d.

It’s hard to imagine a restaurant kitchen without deli’s. It’s like removing fire or knives from the equation and expecting anything to move through the window. I still remember trying to work with the standard cambros. All of them cracked and partially melted, none of them with the right lid. There was always that one that never fully recovered from that night the Sous made curry for staff meal. Those were long and difficult days no one is motivated to revisit.

 


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About the author

Some say Jack Hott was born in a restaurant. Others say he wasn’t born at all but discovered behind a Hobart stand mixer. Wherever he comes from, he’s made a career out of only being a good enough employee to skate by in the restaurant industry since the mid-90s. Jack Hott, if that’s even his real name, has gotten lost in walk-ins, stared into the abyss of pizza ovens, spilled red wine on white linen tablecloths, and shaken cocktails he was supposed to stir. If you can find him on social media, for your own safety, please do not follow him.

About the author

Some say Jack Hott was born in a restaurant. Others say he wasn’t born at all but discovered behind a Hobart stand mixer. Wherever he comes from, he’s made a career out of only being a good enough employee to skate by in the restaurant industry since the mid-90s. Jack Hott, if that’s even his real name, has gotten lost in walk-ins, stared into the abyss of pizza ovens, spilled red wine on white linen tablecloths, and shaken cocktails he was supposed to stir. If you can find him on social media, for your own safety, please do not follow him.

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