CommisChef Journey: From Kitchen Porter to Culinary Passion and Growth in Denmark

My first day working in a restaurant in Denmark marked the beginning of a future I had never imagined. At the time, I had no idea that I was on the cusp of discovering a new world, much like finding a hidden gem in a vintage map or a long-lost book tucked away on a shelf in an underground library. Some experiences are simply meant to happen.

I started my journey at Katastrophe restaurant as a kitchen porter, a role I found challenging at first. The early days were exhausting, with aching hands from washing stacks of plates, pots, and cutlery. The restaurant was alive with sounds of diners enjoying their meals, waiters exchanging conversations, and the head chef along with her assistant busy placing items in the sink. My task was to keep everything spotless.

By chance, during my second week, I began to notice more details about the dishes. I wondered about the flavours of the sauces and how they were prepared. I questioned why she used hot plates and why she plated dishes in such a distinct way. I thought about how I could assist her during those busy times. That curiosity led me to observe her closely. One day, without being asked, I started drying the plates, placing them on her workbench, and passing her sauces. Eventually, I asked if I could help with peeling potatoes, onions, or prawns. My English was very basic, but I managed to understand her, and she always responded with patience and a warm smile. I kept offering my support while still fulfilling my duties as a kitchen porter.

In the fifth week, as a new month began, I arrived for my shift and greeted the team. There was a new girl from the north-west of Europe, from Lithuania. As I prepared to start my routine work, the Ukrainian head chef said to me, “No, Kevin. You are not going to wash the dishes any more. You are going to help me.” That day, at the end of August, I transitioned into her assistant. I had no clear idea of what my new responsibilities entailed, but I followed her instructions diligently. “Kevin, please peel the prawns. Kevin, I need you to cut the potatoes. Kevin, peel the onions.” That sequence of commands became the soundtrack of my new life in the kitchen. I genuinely enjoyed the work. Though I wished I could communicate better in English, I was happy. Her instructions felt like music to my ears.

When service started and everyone was shouting, rushing, and jumping around, I felt as if the whole world had frozen. I knew I had to stay calm and focused. I was discovering a new skill—the ability to stay composed amid chaos and stress. My body activated a defence mechanism I wasn’t aware I possessed. Normally, my nervous system would flee from danger and pressure, but with good guidance, I found I could switch into a protective mode. I realised I needed to support my Ukrainian chef, which created a bond beyond mere work. It might sound strange now, but I believe that connection stemmed from the affection and gratitude I felt for having had an unexpected opportunity in that kitchen.

Back then, I had no knowledge of professional cooking—temperature controls, timing, or service procedures. I simply followed orders, like a soldier in battle. When things got tough, I thought about the games I played, imagining I was protecting the king or queen. I might tell this story without emotion or sentimentality, but as I write and reflect on the past, I see that there was a deeper connection—an internal commitment to do well and support someone who believed in me.

The virtues of patience and calmness, which the kitchen taught me, became essential parts of my growth. Without any prior experience, I learned to do what needed to be done, like a soldier following instructions. Gradually, I earned the trust of the Ukrainian chef and the restaurant owner, an Israeli nationalised in Denmark, who eventually entrusted me with plating dishes for the first time.

Standing in front of diners, shaping the dish with the sauce, placing each element precisely in its place before serving, and striving for perfection, became one of my most cherished memories. It felt like opening a door to a whole new world. Every afternoon, I would leave the restaurant with a sense of fulfilment, and afterwards, I would ride my bicycle home and buy ingredients I’d seen in the restaurant to experiment in my small kitchen in the basement shared with a Danish flatmate.

That modest space, which I viewed as a castle from Disney, soon became my sanctuary of freedom and independence. Cooking and choosing what to eat filled me with a sense of power and maturity. I learnt that washing plates isn’t just a menial task; it’s the foundation of becoming a chef. It’s an internal curiosity that lies dormant and only needs a moment—an opportunity—to awaken.

Thanks to the Ukrainian chef and to Hasam, the restaurant owner, who sparked in me a desire to cook. Knowing how to cook and doing so without complaints raised my value. It’s not just about providing food for the home; it’s about feeding your future. I stayed in that restaurant until March, and it was closed in May. But in that time, I learnt fundamental skills and set the roots of my passion for gastronomy.

After all my adventures at Katastrophe, I had to seek new employment. In July 2021, I decided to leave Denmark and embark on my first real adventure in the restaurant industry in Spain. My entrepreneurial spirit was calling, and Spain would be the place where I opened my first restaurant. What foolish novice thinks they can open a restaurant with so little experience? Me. And that story is yet to come. Don’t miss the next part.