Army chow! Adventures in Army cookery
The Washington Times
has a story today about the Army's school for cooks at Fort Lee, Va.
One of the instructors is wearing combat boots, a camouflage uniform, a white apron and a chef hat. The other instructor - a tall, burly man - barks out orders on texture and taste.
Well, it is the Army, after all.
Actually, the Army has some world-class chefs.
In the upper-level cooking class, chefs learn how to properly present food for formal functions and more complicated dishes like chocolate souffles and crusted salmon mascarpone. Out of the 84 chefs that come through the training facility, six of them make it to the U.S. Army Culinary Arts Team, an elite, competitive group of Army chefs.
The chefs compete in international cooking competitions. The U.S. team won the world championship among military competitors in the International Culinary Olympics in 2000.
Think of them as Iron Chefs with rifles.
I did a tour at Fort Jackson, S.C. when the cooks school was located there, back in the early 1980s. When I was a company commander, my battalion's mess hall (excuse me, "dining facility") was run by a sergeant first class who was a graduate of the upper-level school and who had been a blue-ribbon member of a the Army's international team. He could make a hot dog taste like you had bought it in the best restuarant on the Champs E'Lysees.
It's an Army tradition that officers don their dress blue uniforms and eat Thanksgiving dinner in the mess hall with the troops. Mess halls get special allowances and menus for Thanksgiving, of course, and the more troops a mess hall serves the more special stuff it can get. For Thanksgiving we could even get wine (that was in Germany back in 1984; I don't know whether it still can be had in the mess supply system what with anti-alcohol programs and all).
At the mess hall at Ft. Jackson, the blue-ribbon mess sergeant knew every source and every trick to get anything that was in the supply catalog. For Thanksgiving one year he served turkey and dressing, of course (about four kinds each), but also Welsh rarebit, Cornish hen, prime rib, beef wellington and more kinds of salads and vegetables than I can name. The desserts made you run 12 miles the next day to work them off. My parents were visiting that year and went with us, and we all agreed it was the best Thanksgiving meal we had ever had, including, my mother was forced to admit, those prepared by her own mother, who was a true country cook whose holiday meals were always quite extraordinary. But the Army's was better.
Cooks were overworked and underpaid when I was a battery commander. Due to personnel shortages, I went through several months with no battery mess sergeant; I just had two Spec 4s. In garrison everyone ate at the battalion mess hall, for which I was the officer in charge for a few months, but in the field each battery had to prepare its own food. My two specialists worked real magic with the Class B rations that we were given for Reforger. They worked like dogs and never complained. Quality of chow is a very important component of unit morale, and I never heard of any line soldier griping about a medal given to a cook for outstanding performance of duty.
My training as a dining facility officer (an extra duty while I was a battery commander) did not include cooking lessons, it was all restaurant management stuff - how to inspect food storage and preparation, how to keep the books on food allownaces, forecast orders for the next month, plan and conduct special meals such as holidays and family nights, and so forth.
Food inspection was my favorite thing. As the officer in charge, I could taste inspect every menu item for every meal without paying. The regulation specified that an inspection portion was any amount less than a full serving. (Serving amounts were also specified by regulation.) Since, say, hot dogs were served in pairs, an inspection meant I ate one. But hamburgers were served "each," so I could taste inspect all of one since half a hamburger does not exist in the Army's mind. Vegetables and many other items were served by the serving spoon and these could be halved (actually, three-quartered!). Same with soft ice cream - it was self serve, so what constituted a serving was highly subjective.
So I ate pretty good as a dining facility officer, and worked hard to get the mess hall to attract the troops, who didn't have to eat in it. They could always eat at the PX snack bar or in a local German gasthaus, not for free as they could in the mess hall, of course, but if they didn't like the Army chow they wouldn't eat it, even if it was free.
Our head count did go up. My wife worked as a teller for American Excuse (uh, I mean, "Express") bank and staffed the small office on my unit's kaserne. One day a soldier saw her name plate and asked whether she was my wife. Yes, she said. He answered, "He's done a good job with the mess hall. Now it's only disappointing half the time."
Which was progress, I guess.