Behind The Scenes: Cooking In The Clouds

Operating a culinary station suspended over the urban sprawl is utterly unlike any other kitchen on earth. The endless sea of lights below might be stunning, with a glittering urban tapestry below as nightfall blazes across the glass facades, but past the postcard view lies a relentless storm of speed. You don’t get to admire the view when the dinner rush hits at 5:30. The burners blare nonstop, metal shrieks against metal, and the chill never quite holds.



The building itself brings its invisible obstacles. The lifts move glacially during peak hours, so every key component must be stocked with military precision. Run out of fresh pasta and service grinds to a halt. We keep double the supply — not just for emergencies — because time is the one resource we never have. During a snowstorm got trapped in traffic, and we reconstructed the entire menu using last-resort reserves because quality was sacred.



Sound here is an unrelenting symphony. The streets whisper beneath us, but up here, the clash of utensils mingles with the burst of boiling liquids, urgent shouts from the line, and the sharp bark from the expeditor. We wear earplugs — not by choice — because silence is a myth. There is no such thing as a quiet shift.



The temperature is relentless. Even in winter, the kitchen refuses to cool below 85. The hoods battle desperately, but they barely hold back the tide. At closing time, our uniforms are drenched, and we change twice just to get home. Some of us keep spare socks in our lockers because our feet sweat like rivers.



Still — a deep-rooted honor in it. We’re not simply plating dishes — we’re crafting moments. They ascend to this height to celebrate a proposal, to toast a win. They choose us for teletorni restoran the panorama, but they return for the taste. We know it — in the way a guest lingers, or the way they ask for the chef.



We miss the dawn — our windows face away. But On rare nights, when we step out, we steal a moment of the first lights flickering on. The offices still glow, the first buses roll. And we remember — we made a difference.



We are the unseen engine who keep the flame alive. Not because it’s glamorous, but because it needs doing. And when you’re cooking in the clouds, you learn this truth: the most unforgettable dishes aren’t the ones that sparkle on the plate — they’re forged in sweat.