THE QUARTERBACK OF THE KITCHEN

you, but the expediter has to be able to stay calm under pressure,” he said. “No matter what’s happening, you’ve got to be the exact same temperature: very cool.”

In practice, every kitchen has its own idiosyncratic system, and the expediter fits into it differently.

At Noodle Bar, the chef and expediter both review the printed tickets bearing each diner’s orders. Meanwhile, the manager roams the floor, talks with diners and relays where various tables are in their meal — say, a party of six has almost finished their small plates and are now in a hurry to get to a show; three parties of four with various food allergies are all about to order entrees.

The expediter processes all the information coming from the chef and the manager and fires sequences of dishes accordingly, keeping in mind exactly how long each dish will take to finish, and how much each cook is already juggling.

Some kitchens have multiple ticket machines, so cooks can see the orders as they come in. But Noodle Bar’s cooks, who don’t have tickets to reference, listen for the expediter’s spoken cues. They cook blindly, as Kim put it, on trust. The pass has no heat lamps, and since the kitchen is open, diners can often see if food is waiting. “Our margin of error for time is so thin,” he said.

The work of an expediter can be a thrill, but it’s also high-pressure, competitive and comes with major responsibilities. “If one guest is sitting at their table without food, that’s not on the cooks,” Raben said. “That’s on you.”