A few months ago, I met some firefighters in the grocery store.
That big red truck was parked outside, and they were shopping for the station. I was surprised to learn they’re responsible for buying their own food. When they shop, they must do so as a team because if they get a call, they’re all running to the truck. In a 24-hour shift they’ll take turns cooking; everyone cleans up.
Before we parted ways, I asked them if they’d like a pro to come cook for them and that’s how I recently ended up at Station 1 in Greenville.
Our city’s fire stations are manned 24 hours a day, and after a 24-hour shift, firefighters have 48 hours off. When they’re not on a call or doing community outreach, firefighters are cooking, hitting the weights, doing pushups and pulling pranks on each other. Lt. Thomas Tardo told me the biggest challenge is living together. Those stations may look enormous from the road, but the living quarters are tight and carefully organized.
“When the alarm sounds, we need to be rolling in 90 seconds, no matter what,” Tardo explained. “So, if we’re cooking, the gas range automatically shuts off, and we drop everything and go.”
Two minutes after Tardo’s words were spoken, the alarm sounded, and the guys moved so fast their shadows had to catch up. When they returned, Corey Bennet, Station 1’s preferred cook, gave me the rundown on dinner service.
“No matter what happens, we eat together as a family,” Bennet said. “Often that means cold food, but we live and breathe as a team, and we honor that time together.”
Bennet just so happens to be a very good cook and if not for the fire department, he’s certain he’d be a professional chef. When Bennett is cooking, Station 1 is often visited by crews from other nearby stations that show up around dinner time. When that happens, it’s $7 per firefighter; that money goes into the grocery fund.
Fearing another alarm, I put all the guys to work. They happily sliced zucchini and yellow squash and breaded it in a coating of crushed Doritos. We deep fried it and served it with Bennett’s first homemade mayonnaise fortified with fresh jalapenos and lime juice. My friends at Rise Bakery, Naked Pasta and Revival Butchery donated plenty of goods for dinner, and soon we had pork skewers and Argentinian sausage simmering on the plancha.
Just as the sausages were beginning to smell wonderful, another alarm sounded and there was another race to the truck. Maybe an hour later the guys were back. The pasta was buttered, the sausages were served with an onion jam and Bennett was slicing a beautiful flank steak. Plates were filled, appetites were sated and stories were told. One of the guys was ribbed for cooking a chicken dish he referred to as “Marry Me Chicken” but the one doing the cooking on that night produced something closer to “Divorce Me Dinner.”
While we were laughing, I thought about how rare it is to hear about a fire in our town. Tardo agreed.
“We do a lot of community outreach and we’re happy to change batteries in a smoke detector for a widow or a busy mom because that means we’re less likely to respond to a catastrophic fire,” Tardo said. “We’d much rather prevent a fire than respond to one.”
When my 6:30 dinner was finished at 9 p.m., the guys had another 10 hours left on their shift and they called dibs on the leftovers. We shook hands. Their gratitude was overwhelming, and they invited me back — promising they’d do the cooking next time.
“City Juice” is a colloquial term for a glass of tap water served at a diner. John Malik is a culinary adviser and broker with National Restaurant Properties. He can be reached at chefjohnmalik@gmail.com.
