Breakfast-hour regulars at WaterCourse Foods have never seen Karl Zickrick’s face, but they know his voice as intimately as they know the menu.
This despite the fact that customers only hear him speak two words: “Order up!”
The announcement is made in a booming baritone, more big-dog woof than short-order shout. As WaterCourse’s first-shift cook, it’s Zickrick’s signal that the vegetarian biscuits and gravy or scrambled tofu with salsa is ready to be ferried to a table.
At 26, Zickrick is an unsung hero of Denver’s dining scene. He arrives at WaterCourse, a vegetarian restaurant at 837 E. 17th Ave., not long after dawn. He ties on an apron and gets ready to crank.
I’ve eaten Zickrick’s food for ages. On a recent morning, I finally met the man who cooks it. He was readying for the morning rush when I entered his red-hot kingdom. He wielded a spoon like a scepter and gave me a brief history of his career.
“I basically started out as a dishwasher, and then I didn’t want to be a dishwasher any more,” he told me. “So I learned my way around a stove.”
A good short-order chef is equal parts cook and choreographer. It’s a minuet of multiple meals, which must arrive perfectly prepared and properly sequenced.
“Breakfast can be constant orders,” Zickrick said as he ladled pancake batter onto the griddle. “Even though I’ve cooked thousands of meals, getting slammed is still getting slammed.”
As if on cue, a waiter arrived.
“We’ve got a 12-top arriving at 7:30,” he said. I looked at my watch. A dozen customers were five minutes away. Slammed.
Despite its vegetarian vibe, WaterCourse’s kitchen is set up like a classic diner. The cramped chef’s line features ovens, an array of gas burners and a stainless steel flat-top that turns out everything from tofu scrambles to pancakes.
Opposite the stove are the prep bins, brimming with chopped vegetables, plus a steam table that serves as a holding pen for side dishes.
On this morning, Zickrick arrived to a challenge. The refrigeration system was out on the prep line, which meant he had to ice down all the containers.
“It’s a drag, but you cope,” he said. Something on his right forearm caught my eye. It was a tattoo of a spoon.
Tickets started arriving. First up, biscuits and gravy topped with scrambled tofu.
Zickrick halved a biscuit and popped it into the toaster oven. He dolloped seasoned tofu on the griddle and shaped it into a mound. Next came a sprinkling of smoked mozzarella. A saucepan lid was placed over the goods to meld the ingredients.
Two minutes went by. Zickrick grabbed a plate. On went the biscuit, which he smothered in gravy and topped with the tofu.
“Order up!”
And then the avalanche. The 12-top wanted scrambles. Zickrick methodically began breaking and whisking eggs. The dance began.
He dropped the eggs on the cooktop, let them set, added tomatoes and spinach and began flipping them with a pair of spatulas.
Zickrick glanced my way, hands flying. “It’s just cool to be able to express yourself.”
I asked him if he was a vegetarian. He smiled like an unrepentant kid in a confessional. “Nope,” he said. “I have been, but not now.”
William Porter’s column runs Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Reach him at 303-954-1977 or wporter@denverpost.com.
