SIR I HAVE REASON TO SUSPECT THAT YOU ARE A CANADIAN.
My Fundamentals of Foodservice Production teacher has an accent I really can't place, ends his sentences with "eh" sometimes, and mentioned poutine during a lecture. So...He could be from Wisconsin. OR CANADA. This is the man that's teaching me how to make soul food. What is sense-making?
All things considered, he's my favorite chef thus far. He's upbeat and likes to joke, but is very serious when he talks about sending us out into the industry. I actually think I've landed myself in the chef's pet position. Unlike in high school academics or even at my tech school, I've been really putting forth a lot of effort in my classes here. I think my parents were kinda worried that I'd dick around and not get any work done, but...
I feel like there's a wall between myself and trained chefs. On my side of the wall, there's decent quality food, raw talent, and true enjoyment. I don't even think I've climbed the wall entirely, but I found a little peephole somewhere along the way. On the other side of the wall, there's excellent quality food, honed skills, and fierce love. At the risk of overly-romanticizing things that need not be overly romanticized, I saw my possibly Canadian cutting up an onion the other day. He was chatting with one of the students about technique and practice and the value of good tools, maintaining eye contact with her and cracking jokes. The beauty of it is that he cut the onion in perfect julienne strips with a speed that you just don't see outside of a professional kitchen. (Even on Food Network shows, the chefs cut slowly and deliberately so as not to inspire home cooks to try speed cutting and end up hacking off a finger.)
That level of skill is what I want. It might be years off and I might not realize when I hit that marker, but I still want it. The chefs here at school carry themselves with a sort of steady confidence that you just don't see on shows like Hell's Kitchen or Top Chef. It amuses me when students try and pick fights with their chefs, try and act like big dogs that lead the pack. It just doesn't work that way. The only reason we're in our kitchens is because our chef has allowed us to be there.
For now, I leave class each night feeling successful and happy. I'm not trying to find a boyfriend or push boundaries with the friends I have. The only thing I'm honestly working towards is my education, and the rest of the world can just fall into place after that if it so pleases. Cooking comes naturally to me, so there's nothing to be scared or stressed about to the point where I lose sleep. Life is pretty good, I think.
In other news, Rissa and D are mad at each other. I gave both of them contradicting advice when they saw me at different times. They're still fighting...Tonight, though, they learned that a new episode of Glee = and not a single fuck was given. XD
All things considered, he's my favorite chef thus far. He's upbeat and likes to joke, but is very serious when he talks about sending us out into the industry. I actually think I've landed myself in the chef's pet position. Unlike in high school academics or even at my tech school, I've been really putting forth a lot of effort in my classes here. I think my parents were kinda worried that I'd dick around and not get any work done, but...
I feel like there's a wall between myself and trained chefs. On my side of the wall, there's decent quality food, raw talent, and true enjoyment. I don't even think I've climbed the wall entirely, but I found a little peephole somewhere along the way. On the other side of the wall, there's excellent quality food, honed skills, and fierce love. At the risk of overly-romanticizing things that need not be overly romanticized, I saw my possibly Canadian cutting up an onion the other day. He was chatting with one of the students about technique and practice and the value of good tools, maintaining eye contact with her and cracking jokes. The beauty of it is that he cut the onion in perfect julienne strips with a speed that you just don't see outside of a professional kitchen. (Even on Food Network shows, the chefs cut slowly and deliberately so as not to inspire home cooks to try speed cutting and end up hacking off a finger.)
That level of skill is what I want. It might be years off and I might not realize when I hit that marker, but I still want it. The chefs here at school carry themselves with a sort of steady confidence that you just don't see on shows like Hell's Kitchen or Top Chef. It amuses me when students try and pick fights with their chefs, try and act like big dogs that lead the pack. It just doesn't work that way. The only reason we're in our kitchens is because our chef has allowed us to be there.
For now, I leave class each night feeling successful and happy. I'm not trying to find a boyfriend or push boundaries with the friends I have. The only thing I'm honestly working towards is my education, and the rest of the world can just fall into place after that if it so pleases. Cooking comes naturally to me, so there's nothing to be scared or stressed about to the point where I lose sleep. Life is pretty good, I think.
In other news, Rissa and D are mad at each other. I gave both of them contradicting advice when they saw me at different times. They're still fighting...Tonight, though, they learned that a new episode of Glee = and not a single fuck was given. XD