Being the chef at Prague's most celebrated restaurant may sound like a glamorous job. But for Vito Mollica, the 34-year-old master of the stoves at the Four Seasons' Allegro, a typical day starts early, ends late and is a caffeinated blur of activity in between.

7 a.m. With his wife Angela and 2-year-old son Enrico, enjoys a simple breakfast of cereal, yogurt and strong coffee. Takes Enrico to day care and walks to work along the Vltava.

9 a.m. Greets the staff with a hearty "buongiorno," asking each person how they are. His 32 cooks — mostly Czech men around the age of 30 — all speak English.

Samples the just-squeezed orange juice, critical because guests use it to gauge restaurant quality. Begins his first of eight daily rounds to oversee the hotel's three kitchens, built on separate floors: Floor 0 is Allegro's kitchen and room service; -1 is banqueting and staff meals; -2 is food prep and walk-in refrigerators for storage. The prep kitchen is quiet this morning, he notes. There's no fish to clean because of a French holiday.

Back on floor 0, Mollica orbits near the chef's station — between the kitchen and the dishwashers — with sous-chef David Anger. They call out orders, arrange presentation and check guests' finished plates: If any food remains, Mollica or a waiter will ask the customer if everything was acceptable. When a guest sends back his omelette as "too fluffy," Anger informs the hot chef and a firmer omelette quickly appears.

In the middle of downing an espresso, Mollica is called to confirm the quality and temperature of a meat shipment. On his return, a hygiene consultant hired by the hotel shows up unannounced and swabs several cooks' hands to check for cleanliness.

10:30 a.m. Anger and other department managers crowd into Mollica's office for a daily operational meeting, discussing today's hotel and restaurant stats, VIP guests, complaints and resolutions.

11:30 a.m. Interviews a potential cook, a 21-year-old Italian who has good experience but doesn't speak English or Czech. Mollica bursts into the tiny room where the candidate waits.

"How will you communicate with us?" he begins in Italian.

The shy young man is taken aback.

"I will manage," he replies.

"How do you say 'beef' in English?"

"Beef."

"How do you say 'fish'?"

"Fish."

"Salted cod?"

"I don't know."

Later, Mollica says, "He was straight about what he didn't know. I liked that." Mollica himself learned English working in a London restaurant.

Noon Lunch gathers momentum. Mollica makes rounds on the terrace, taking special orders from customers, returning to prepare dishes that aren't on the menu. Servers call out information about who is sitting at which tables, what they ordered and how long ago. Delicacies fly past: seared scallops, lamb in basil crust, hot Valrhona chocolate poured over a coffee and almond vacherin with mascarpone filling.

1 p.m. Meets with HR managers about the Italian cook candidate. The managers explain why they see the man as a risk, while Mollica listens to them but defends his wish to give him a chance. "I pushed a lot," he says afterward. "But they were fair. He is a risk."

1:45 p.m. Cooks himself a lunch of pennoni pasta with sauteed porcini, green beans, asparagus and pig's cheek bacon topped with shaved Parmesan. Anger and Mollica bolt down this delicacy standing up.

Returns to his office to create a Christmas menu already due for publication. Served just once a year at Allegro, carp will be the centerpiece, cooked with its bones removed "one by one."

4 p.m. Meets with a prospective supplier, a young Frenchman who presents several high-quality products all at once in a long narrative of heavily accented English.

5 p.m. Often Mollica takes an afternoon break — his wife and son visit for coffee and gelato on the terrace, or he goes for a massage. Today, however, there's no downtime. He makes phone calls, answers e-mails, approves orders and works on a special mushroom menu for September.

7 p.m. Allegro's dining room is the essence of calm: piano music, orchids, sunset over Charles Bridge. But behind the kitchen doors, it's a different world, as the dinner service kicks into high gear. Mollica is like a surgeon doing triage, and his doctors work with perfect precision, in sync, knowing their roles. "Do you hear that?" Mollica asks. "Everyone working in silence. In the kitchen there should be one voice" — the chef's.

8 p.m. A beef filet is slightly overdone, so Mollica sends out a manager to ask if medium-well would be acceptable. Another guest's dish is delayed, so he sends out a sorbet as an "intermezzo." Both problems are nipped in the bud. He quizzes a waiter about a possible food delay.

"[Table] 53's a long time already!"

"Only four minutes, trust me!" the waiter insists.

Mollica and his staff get along well, though the inevitable bumps reveal his Italian spirit. "If there's a problem, Vito will solve it right now, with a direct style," Anger says. "At first I found that stressful. But now that I know him for almost five years, I consider him part of my family."

10 p.m. Rubs eyes, lifts chef's hat to reveal tousled black hair. Returns to his office to answer e-mail and write notes for the night cook.

Midnight Says goodnight to evening staff and walks home along the river. Greets Angela and kisses sleeping Enrico.

It's the end of an exhilarating but exhausting workday, though Mollica says that's exactly what the job requires.