IN UNIFORM / The Reluctant Gourmet

Dressed in his woolen blues and zipper-up boots, Capt. Ken Brady steers his shopping cart down Aisle 6. In his cart are 16 salmon steaks, one pound of shrimp, six red onions, 12 brown onions, three packages of sliced mushrooms, 16 zucchinis, four boxes of wild rice, six tomatoes, four green bell peppers, two bottles of red wine vinaigrette, six cucumbers to mix with some cherry tomatoes “one of the guys grew” for a salad, two gallons of milk and a 22-ounce canister of raisins.

They are the makings for dinner at Station No. 60 in North Hollywood.

Capt. Brady is cook tonight for his station’s 16-man platoon, now on one of its three weekly 24-hour shifts. In the morning, the captain scanned the paper’s food ads and chose Ralphs over Vons because of its $2.99 sale on a pound of salmon. His shopping list is shorter than usual; two nights before he had prepared a few too many enchiladas. “It’s hard to anticipate how much food 16 people can eat,” he says, rolling through the produce section, so today’s lunch will be leftovers.

Soon after the shift begins at 6:30 a.m., $10 is collected from each fireman: $3.50 for lunch, $3.50 for dinner and $3 in house dues, covering such essentials as cable TV, the newspaper, StairMaster, coffee and Tang. Anybody clocking overtime chips in for dessert.

A 16-year veteran of the Los Angeles Fire Department, Brady pauses to take stock of the cart’s contents. “I’ve got the onions, mushrooms, shrimp . . .” he mumbles to himself as he nods toward each item. “Eggs,” he suddenly looks up, scratching his slightly graying flattop. “Don’t let me forget the eggs.”

An elderly man in a ratty fishing hat stops Brady en route to dairy. He asks, “Were you on that accident yesterday?”

“I wasn’t on shift,” Brady answers, “but those were our Jaws of Life out there.”

Although he cooks at home, Brady was until a few days before the platoon’s second-string chef. By general agreement, Eddie Reed was the best--so good, in fact, he served as the permanent cook (or “PC”) for 14 of his 18 years in the department and was culinary coach to Station No. 60, including Brady. But his transfer to the West Valley has just come through, and the guys are already mourning the loss of his chicken soup, a nouvelle stew heavy on vegetables he calls “Tree Soup.” He leaves behind his “half a pound of meat to a man” shopping rule of thumb.

This is the week the platoon is spit-shining the brass and painting the truck undersides to prepare for a big inspection, so Capt. Brady doesn’t mind commandeering the 1940s-era kitchen. Nor is he fazed by the anticipated razzing from the long dinner tables. “If they complain, I’ll probably make even more,” Brady says, laughing. “We had a guy who didn’t like olives, so when he went on probation we made everything with olives. We even had chocolate shakes with olives.”

With the exception of catering to a vegan who once won an “Eat With Station 60” contest, “the only thing we work around is allergies,” Brady says. That and diets. On Monday, the men wolfed down roast beef, mashed potatoes (“The guys would throw me out if they weren’t real”), broccoli in a spicy cheese sauce and homemade biscuits; Wednesday, chicken enchiladas, a chile relleno casserole, Spanish rice and refried beans. For this night’s meal, the plan is to individually foil wrap and bake the salmon with the onions, peppers and tomatoes, steam the zucchini and mix baby shrimp and mushrooms into the wild rice. Plus there’s salad and oatmeal cookies. Brady estimates dinner will take an hour and 45 minutes to prepare by himself. The grocery bill? $91.66. So he splurged on dinner. Lunch is leftovers, after all.