Honest advice to a budding cook/ chef with no experience whatsoever

This is a slightly altered version of a real email that I wrote to a young man who found my blog and is considering culinary school, but had no real experience cooking. He wrote me that he was intrigued by cooking, and I thought it pertinent to share this advice with a wider audience. I get the "should I go to culinary school?" question all the time, and I think it really depends on your situation, but the following is the advice I give to anyone who is considering culinary school without some background in restaurants.

Hey ****!

I can definitely relate, as it took me about 5 years of waffling back and forth before I finally decided to go to culinary school. I checked out FCI, ICE, CIA Hyde, J&W in various locations, AI in various locations, CCA, CSCA, and Western Culinary before deciding on OCI. Let me go ahead and squash your concerns about not being good enough for culinary school, because I didn't know shit about cooking besides what I had learned as a hobbyist cook and food geek, and most of the people around me at school knew even less. Now that I'm on the other side of it and have been cooking professionally for about 6 years, I feel that if I had to do it all over again, I would still go to culinary school, but I'm glad I had some restaurant experience before I went, and that's my advice to you if you want to know whether or not your cut out for this industry: GET SOME RESTAURANT EXPERIENCE.

Books/magazines/websites can supplement your education, but real learning comes from doing, and doing things over and over and over and over again until it's muscle memory and/or intuition. You will do this at culinary school to an extent, but I think it's best to know before you make that career move and investment. Is there a place in your town you can go in and do prep when you're not in school? Even a little family-run diner that does things from scratch will be able to show you the inner workings of a restaurant. If you're lucky and there's a nice-ish restaurant nearby, see if you can get a weekly stage (stage= French word for unpaid trial period). A lot of cooks and chefs do stages in other restaurants to expand their horizons. If you can go into a restaurant, offer your services one or two days a week for free (Saturday mornings/afternoons are great, as most restaurants need extra hands for prepping Saturday night service), and just be their yes man for a few weeks/months, you will learn A LOT. Even if it's just for one night. Most of all, you will see what it's like in real life, and whether or not you're really cut out for this line of work/life. And also whether or not you want to invest in culinary school.

Cooking in a professional kitchen is nothing at all like cooking for your family or what you see in cooking shows; For the first few years of pro cooking especially, it's a lot of hard work for little pay, not seeing your non-restaurant friends or family, not getting "normal" days off, and simply following orders ("Yes Chef!"). You're cooking other people's recipes and menus, and you're doing it their way, and your doing the same thing over and over, night after night. You're paying your dues and building your foundation. You're not exercising your creativity, and you're not writing menus and coming up with dishes. You're lucky to have an idea of yours show up on a menu in your first three to five years of cooking--I still remember the day I got an oyster mignonette on the menu, almost a year into my first job. I felt like I climbed a mountain. I didn't get anything else on a menu for another 2 years, when my chef was stuck in NY during a snowstorm and the sous asked me to come up with a pasta special for just that night. One menu item and one sauce in my first three years, out of hundreds of menu items I cooked. You're burning/cutting/breaking yourself in new and weird ways, and you're eating irregularly at best. You burn shit and your chef gets pissed and you feel worse than you ever have, until you fuck up that other thing and your sous almost beats your ass. You're really tired and you eat Hot Pockets for dinner after service at 1AM because you don't have the energy to cook for yourself after cooking all day.

BUT! If you have the "it", the X-factor, the thing that lives in us crazy cooks and chefs that forces you night after night to work your ass off and do better than you did before and want to be better for your Chef and want to be better for all your coworkers, you will thrive in this environment. You will soak it up like a sponge, and question every technique and every step, even as you're doing things the way you've been taught. You want to know the "why" of it all, and you'll start to figure out the "why" that makes the most sense to you. You're okay knowing that your cooking job will not make you wealthy, unless you luck into a high-paying corporate gig that somehow doesn't suck your soul.

All this said, I really loved and cherished my time at OCI, and I would definitely do it all over again if I had the chance. So much of your success in culinary school is dependent on the work you put into it-- you get out of it what you put into it, really and truly. I showed up early and stayed late every day; I turned in every assignment on time; I did all the extra credit and volunteered for all the off-site events; I asked every single instructor every stupid question I could think of. It's a really safe and fun place to learn, and of all the culinary schools out there, OCI does the best job of putting the "real world" of cooking into perspective--you're doing tons of knife work and kitchen techniques daily. But there's also a ton of culinary math and exams and book knowledge that you must know to pass, and I swear it's vital further down the line. As a chef currently I'm constantly swimming in spreadsheets and numbers, and my Harold McGee is never too far away.

Speaking of which, I know you asked for some book/reading recommendations, to which I will recommend:

- On Food and Cooking, Harold McGee. This is the driest reading of all time but it's a great reference when you want to know why meat turns brown and crispy, and what the difference is exactly between a poach and a sear.

- Any cookbook by James Peterson. He does a great job with explaining history of food, and his basics are always solid.

- Joe Beef cookbook. One of my favorites in the last year, reads like a novel in some ways.

- Julia and Jacques Cooking At Home. This was the first cookbook I ever read that really imprinted in me the idea that there's more than one way to do things "right" when it comes to cooking.

God there are so many other cookbooks I could recommend... The French Laundry, River Cottage, Zuni Cafe, Baking Illustrated, Fat Duck, even Joy of Cooking. Get thee to a bookstore and sit your ass in the cookbooks section for a good long while.

- http://linecook415.blogspot.com/ The blog of Richie Nakano, current chef of Hapa Ramen in SF. Specifically his blog entries from 2007-2009, while he was sous chef at NoPa. They're gut-wrenchingly accurate tales from line cooking, and really rung true to me in my first few years of cooking.

- http://eggbeater.typepad.com/ . The blog of Shuna Lydon, NYC pastry chef. She has some really good advice to starting cooks or people looking to dabble in professional cooking. Good place to start is here: http://eggbeater.typepad.com/shuna/so-you-want-to-be-a-chef-.html

- Ideas in Food: http://blog.ideasinfood.com/ . I'll be honest, I don't read this frequently but a lot of cooks I know do and have found it insightful.

- The Food Lab at Serious Eats: http://www.seriouseats.com/the-food-lab/?ref=nav_main

- Lucky Peach Magazine. The only paper magazine I subscribe to.

So that's probably either way too much information or not at all the answer you were hoping for, but I hope I was able to help in some small way. Good luck with whatever you decide, and there's a great farmer's market at the PSU park blocks every Saturday from March-December :). Let me know if you have other questions.

Cheers,
Ingrid

Graduating, and the importance of family

I'm not sure what to make of the fact that I forgot about my culinary school graduation ceremony until a week before it occurred, except I think I've been so immersed in work that my time at Oregon Culinary Institute seems so far behind me. Yet it wasn't that long ago that I was going to class every day and being pushed by my dear chef instructors to work faster, work cleaner, do better.

For a nearly-forgotten incident, my graduation this past weekend turned into one of the best weekends I've had in a long, long time.

A last-minute invite to my brother and sister worked out, and by Friday night they were on their way from Seattle with their significant others and my brother's ridiculously cute dog, Ollie. I walked home from work that night, and they had made themselves at home thanks to my brother's copies of my keys. Excited as I was to see them, I was weary and beat from work, but mustered the strength to give them the full tour of the new place. I got this painted here, I changed that there, I think I'm gonna try and install this here... I walked them toward the bedrooms, and wondered why my bedroom door was closed.

I opened it... and found my mom standing there. My mom, who lives in North Carolina, who I assumed wouldn't be able to make the cross country trip, especially not so last minute.

I shrieked, stunned, then started crying.

It's been a tremendously hard past few months, between buying a new place, working six days a week, maneuvering major transitions at work, trying to get settled into my new place essentially on my own, and just not having had a real break since Christmas. It's the life we lead, I know, but knowing that doesn't really make it any easier. I've spent a lot of time recently feeling overwhelmed, yet we all just keep plugging on, knowing it's leading up to something better. Upon seeing my mom, such a sight for sore eyes, the tears of joy came immediately.

Saturday morning, I put on my OCI chef's whites for the first time in over six months, and joined about 65 of my fellow graduates in a giant ballroom at the Governor Hotel.


Graduating. Photo by Woody Bailey. See the rest of his set here.

As expected, the ceremony itself was a practice in self-deprecation and not taking oneself too seriously. Lots of jokes, lots of silly speeches, some meaningful and serious ones too, but the morning was dominated by a general light-heartedness.

That's what I've loved about OCI and its instructors and founders since I first visited--you get the feeling that events such as graduation, as meaningful as they can be, are not, ultimately, why you attend school in the first place. I'm proud that made my way through the entire program, as it's not an easy accomplishment, but I had to go to work right after the ceremony, and I honestly think that's what they're after: Students who work hard, have goals, and find themselves in positions where they barely have time to squeeze in a graduation ceremony on a Saturday morning, knowing they'll have to be deep in prep for Saturday service in a few hours.

Not to say we still can't enjoy ourselves and pat ourselves on the back for a job well-done. My classmates and I cheered happily for each other, knowing how much we'd been through to get to that point. My family cheered loudly for me when my name was called, and despite the initial unseriousness I felt about graduation, I have to admit it was pretty awesome to hear their whooping and yelling.

So here's where I'll tell you why my family is, in my opinion, the most amazing family one could ever ask for. Besides surprising me with my mom's visit, besides being a personal cheerleading section at my graduation that I nearly forgot, I came home Saturday night after 10 plus hours at work to find that they cleaned my entire apartment top to bottom. They washed the windows, unpacked all the leftover boxes, constructed a bookshelf and bed frame I hadn't yet gotten around to, and purchased new sheets, towels and a bunch of organizational gadgets for my use. They even bought me a lavender plant and a huge bouquet of lilacs and pansies that made my dining room look like a spread in Martha Stewart Living.


At the dining room table: Rob, me, Ollie, Sylvia, Ted, Christy, Mom and Josh. Taken with Sylvia's trusty camera and Josh's helpful tripod.

I mean, come on. Seriously? How much luckier does a person get?

What else could I do but make them Sunday brunch?




Taken by Sylvia, see the rest of the awesome set here

Blueberry pancakes with caramelized bananas (they worked so well the first time around!), roasted asparagus and spinach omelet with Mt. Tam triple creme, rounded out with a pork trio of country sausage, maple bacon and pepper bacon. Many happy bellies.

The Seattle crew departed soon after the crazy carbo-load, and my mom stayed in town for a few more days. I miraculously got Monday off from work and was thus able to spend some much-needed quality time with the momma.


Getting some sun at Laurelhurst Park

Any part of my personality that is even-keeled and laid-back, I give credit to my mom. She's the most understanding, compassionate and zen-like person I know. She's been through more hardship than any person should ever have to withstand, and has conquered it all with a force that none of us knew she had. And she's been nothing but humble and unassuming about it all, never demanding credit for her hard work, never complaining about putting in insanely long workdays. I know a lot of people (myself included) who could benefit from borrowing a page from her book.


Who else takes the time to listen to the trees?

This weekend was about remembering my fortune, despite all the hardships: A line cook job at a top-notch kitchen, a home I can legitimately call my own, and a family I wouldn't trade for the world. Not bad, ya'll. Not bad at all.

Burnwatch 2009

I realized it's been a while since I posted photos of my current burns. As of today:





As you can see, I've definitely welcomed some good ones to the family. I get a lot of "Oh, Ingrid... poor girl!" kind of reactions when my friends see my burns, but they really only hurt for the first few hours. The only one in which I actually feel any pain currently (and only when I touch it) is the pinkish one on my inner right arm, which is a recovering blister from stray fat that came from searing off a lamb rack. I wasn't even shaking the pan or anything; I was turning the rack with my tongs and a pocket of fat in the lamb popped out.

Note the ones on and near my knuckles on my right hand--that's a first.

Also a first: My face! WTF?!



Yes, it's tiny (the dark spot on my cheek near my earlobe), but I never thought my face would be part of the action. Lesson learned: Do not lean too close to an active pan on the stove when pulling things out of the oven.

Speaking of things I've learned...

1. See above.

2. Clean clean clean clean clean. Work clean!

3. Try not to get roped into kitchen work while wearing 3-inch heels. It's doable, but precarious, to say the least.

4. Due to a series of recent occurrences, I've been reflecting on my time at OCI quite a bit, and still have no regrets or qualms about attending culinary school, even though a majority of cooks have not gone to culinary school. I definitely get my fair share of shit from cooks for having spent the money on "food college", but I made the right decision for me, and it was the platform I needed to head down this path. A more in depth post about culinary school is in the works.

5. Confidence in the kitchen and in your abilities is essential. ESSENTIAL. I did my first solo Saturday night on grill station last weekend, and after a rough couple of days last week, I came into work Saturday with the mindset that I know I can do this right, not letting that itchy doubt linger in the back of my head. Not that you have time to linger on any particular thought during a busy service; you just do it. I went into service feeling prepared and confident, and we knocked out some pretty fine lookin' plates. It wasn't hitch-less, per se, but pretty smooth for my first solo Saturday.

Bonus Thing I Learned: The chorus from "Electric Feel" by MGMT is a great song to have in your head during service. Other songs I've had stuck in my head during service recently: "The World is Yours" by NaS and "Get Money" by Junior M.A.F.I.A. (featuring Notorious B.I.G., of course). I've been on a crazy Biggie kick for the past few months.

Last day of school

I completed my last day at Oregon Culinary Institute yesterday. Technically speaking I don't graduate until I've completed 360 hours at my externship site, which I'm doing at my current workplace over the next two months. However, the days of donning the school uniform and being under the daily guidance of my chef instructors are over.

I have to admit that when I woke up late this morning, I was feeling a little lost and confused. Has six months really flown by that fast? I thought I was looking forward to being done with this crazy schedule of full-time-school-full-time-work, but now that I am, something seems off. It seemed like all of the sudden it just stopped.

But the key thing here is it doesn't stop, actually; like one of the chef instructors said to us yesterday, our first step in our education is complete, and now the real education begins, especially for those stepping into the industry for the first time. I found this to ring very true when I started at my restaurant, and though I'm a bit sad to be leaving school, I'm excited to be able to focus my energy solely on improving my skills, techniques and speed at work.

Speaking of which I'm heading off, but (as always) I have a lot more on my mind. Now that I'll have a little more time on my hands, hopefully I'll actually get around to blogging in a timely manner.

Catching up

It's been far too long since I've written, and it's not for lack of interesting goings-on in my life. In fact, things are going even faster at work and at school now that I'm having difficulty finding the time to just sit down and write for longer than two minutes. Now that we're in the restaurant full time at school (with no class lecture), I'm currently doing between 65 and 75 hours a week on my feet between work and school, and somehow I still don't feel like I'm working hard enough. I think it's because with something like cooking the amount of knowledge and skill you can gain is endless. It's a great motivator for me, especially when I'm surrounded by people who are so much more skilled and experienced than myself, but it can lead to frustration for me as my nature is to want to know everything and to be really good at everything right off the bat. Unrealistic, I know. So sue me.

On the upside though, the biggest news in my life recently, besides moving into the OCI restaurant, is that I'm currently training to move up to the hot line from pantry at my restaurant. I got the news about a month ago that my exec and sous wanted to start training me on the hot line. This initially struck me as absolutely bonkers as I've never cooked anything to temperature order prior to culinary school, and everything at my restaurant that can be cooked to temp order is: scallops, game birds, fish, steak, pork, everything. Add on the plating sets ("set" = the other stuff that goes on the plate) and it's the ultimate in multi-tasking. There's no doubt that things can get hairy on the hot line, and it's a lot of pressure. I'll admit I was slightly scared and a bit timid about the step up, but after a few weeks I'm feeling pretty confident that I can "handle the heat," as they say.

I have a billion observations, updates and news items I want to share, but sleep is calling for now. I'll get to them sooner than later, I promise.

Ups and downs

I guess every day can't be as spectacular and mellow as cooking under blue skies in vineyards.

I'll just get to it: I kind of sucked at work today.

We had a party with 20 guests, which I can usually handle alright on a typical Monday. Today, however, was not a typical Monday. The number of covers we did tonight was more typical of a Thursday or Friday, so on top of having my station and the pastry station to myself, we were slammed in the dining room. I was totally underprepped, and even though we were busier than usual, I simply wasn't on top of my game.

I have to admit that I'm totally disappointed in myself, especially because my personal standards are so high. But what's worse is I feel like I've let down my chef, with whom I just had a great conversation last weekend about how well I've been doing and my future at the restaurant.

I guess we all get knocked off our high horses every now and then. I just have to get back to kick-ass mode, starting tomorrow.

Speaking of tomorrow, Term 3 for me at OCI officially starts tomorrow morning, bright and early at 7:30AM. We're moving into the phase where we'll be working in the OCI restaurant, as well as doing courses on restaurant management. I'm looking forward to this term, and I'm not scared to get into the restaurant since I'm already in a real working environment. But I have a feeling that it'll be strenuous, not to mention the early mornings... Power naps and I are going to be good friends for the next two months.

I'll feel better once I get some sleep, I know it... but I'm turning that kick ass dial back up to 11.

Work and school: The how and the why

scallops at Le Pigeon*

I'll be honest: If you asked me in March if I thought I'd be working in a restaurant kitchen in a few months time, I'd have told you, "You so crazy." In fact, four months ago, the thought of working in any professional kitchen, not to mention that of a high-end restaurant, frankly scared the shit out of me. Even starting culinary school and being surrounded by the endlessness of stainless steel was highly intimidating. I couldn't imagine how we'd get to the point where we would be cooking for the public in the open kitchen of the OCI restaurant (which is coming up for me in a few weeks).

Funnily enough, one of the most surprising things about my new job is how comfortable I feel in the kitchen, putting out food for which people are paying not a little money. I have a desire to know more, to get better, to get faster, to hone my skills. I've been bitten by the bug, as Chef Wilke put it, and it just keeps spreading.

With everything that I'm learning at work, I'll admit that it's crossed my mind to quit school altogether and focus entirely on with my job. I mean, what's the point of being in school if I'm learning so much AND getting paid to do it, right?

I've been pondering this quite a bit, and as we're nearing the end of Term 2 at OCI, I find myself wandering the hallways at school and thinking, "I can't leave this. I'd be missing way too much." School and work are symbiotic; both are feeding off the other, and both are helping to narrow my focus a lot. I thought it might be the reverse, where I'd be spreading myself way too thin, but work and school together has only made me that much more driven.

It really comes down to this: I learn how to do things at work, but I learn why I do those things at school.

Don't get me wrong; my chefs and coworkers at my restaurant are wicked smart and highly knowledgeable, and most of them didn't go to culinary school. The combined experience of the 10 or so people in the back of the house is kind of staggering. But as a rookie with very little formal kitchen experience, I find there are definitely times where I feel happy that I did my reading homework about varieties of heat transfer or the properties of salt or mollusk physiology. I'm shucking oysters at work, but only after we discussed shellfish anatomy in lecture did I begin to think, 'Maybe I should be cutting out the abductor muscle on the larger oysters to make it a more pleasant eating experience.'

Thanks to school, when I'm plating a dish at work and it tastes funny or looks wrong, I'm better at intuiting what needs to be done. I don't always get it right, but I feel more comfortable making decisions. More height, more salt, more vinegar, more color: all those things didn't mean jack to me before we filled out the endless amounts of recipe analysis sheets in Term 1. On these sheets, we were to describe every minute detail of every element of a dish. What is the sugar's purpose in the vinaigrette? What texture does a radish have in a salad? What color does the asparagus lend to the soup? Does the lettuce add height?

At the same time, because of work, my school sensibilities are changing. The idea that we're selling food for money is smacking me pretty hard in the face now that I'm working in a "real world" setting. It's not enough to make food that makes someone say, "I'd eat that." It has to be "I'd shell out my hard-earned money to eat that" (bonus points for "on a regular basis"). It's the difference between home cooking and professional cooking, and that difference only hit me when I set foot into the restaurant I work at now. Every time I put up a plate to sell, I make sure it's something I would pay the money we charge for it. It might sound a bit crass, but it is an industry and it's how we make a living. We have fun and feel passion for it too, and I think that translates in the food.

Because I have the roots for those real-worldy business sensibilities now, I find that I approach plating dishes at school from an entirely different perspective. It can't just be pretty... it has to be appealing; appetite-whetting, if you will. Something that stops you in your tracks and makes you think, 'Wow, this is beautiful/different/interesting.' And for crap's sake, it has to taste good.

It's a fine balance, but I feel I'm doing pretty well, considering the hours and the circumstances. I hope it only continues to get better.

*I don't work at Le Pigeon; I am, however, very fond of their food.

Food Service Eyes

I know I haven't written a school-descriptive post recently, which I'll remedy soon, I promise. This little anecdote, however, might help explain my current state of mind:

I wandered into school this morning and sat down at a computer to type out our live fire project menu. Chef Wilke, my school's co-founder, who is always high energy and genuinely enthusiastic (I don't know how he does it--strong coffee is my guess), has taken to asking me how my new job is going every time I see him. It's pretty great, because he knows I'm doing full time school and work, and I truly believe he wants to see me succeed at both. He saw me and said, "Good morning Ingrid! How's work going?"

I looked up dazily and replied, "Oh, it's going really well, actually. We got totally slammed last night, which is weird for a Monday. But it was good, ya know..." I smiled a morning-weary smile, and he began to chuckle. He said to one of my instructors, "Hey Chef, check it out, Ingrid's beginning to get that 'food service' look in her eyes!" They both laughed, and he said to me, "You know, like I can tell you're still on top of it all, but you're looking about 18 inches past my head when you talk."

I couldn't help but laugh. That guy is always spot on, folks.

So that's about where I am right now. I'm doing some awesome stuff in school, last week was one of my favorite weeks so far (Fish! Crustaceans! Mollusks!), and I have photos to post, but I promise I'll get around to it soon.

Survival extraordinaire

This is what happens to your hands when you cook 12 hours a day, use knives, manipulate wet, staining ingredients and wash your hands 80 times a day, and then ride your bike home from work:



(This method of nail and skin care is not recommended to the general public.)

It's been a week since I started my glamorous new job as a pantry/prep cook, and as I suspected, it wasn't an easy week by any means. Between the early mornings for school and the 8 to 10 hours I put in at work each night, I was literally hurting by Wednesday. I considered sleeping in and missing school for the first time ever (but thankfully didn't), and nearly fell asleep in class during a truly fascinating slide show about wild mushrooms and mushroom hunting by my mushroom-expert chef instructor. The trick, folks, is to ask lots of questions during the lecture so as to stay engaged (and thus awake). You'll thank me for this gem of knowledge later.

I'm adjusting, however slowly, and realizing how precious every spare minute I have is to me. 20-minute power naps between school and work helped, as did the fact that my chef at work was understanding enough to set my work schedule so I have a day off during the week to rest, collect myself and not burn out. He's been great to me; in fact, everyone at the restaurant, kitchen staff and front-of-house staff as well, have been so welcoming to me. I'm especially fond of all the women bartenders and servers who are stoked to finally have a girl in the kitchen.

Meanwhile, I studied like a demon for my midterms, and I'm crossing my fingers for good results on the comprehensive written test. I kicked butt during the 104-item identification test (fruits & veg, greens, dried herbs & spices, grains & legumes). I also managed not to cut myself during the mirepoix drills on Friday, thankfully, and though I didn't quite get two quarts, I was happy with my results. Though I did nearly cut off my ring finger during practice last Monday (see the photo above). It's a pain to work with open wounds, because it normally means bandages and finger cots, through which you can't feel anything. Tuck those fingers under, kids!

At work, things move at a very rapid pace. I'm realizing the most frustrating thing about starting a new kitchen job is figuring out where everything is. Since we deal with massive amounts of ingredients, equipment and serving dishes, I ask a lot of questions, most of them about where something is. For example, endive is in a container in the walk-in fridge, but someone labeled it "ANDIV" and no one has ever bothered to change it. I spent a good five minutes looking on the shelf on which it sits, basically staring straight at and around it and never finding it until one of the cooks told me about the mislabeled container.

It's small stuff to worry about though, as after a week I'm finally feeling more comfortable with where everything is, and my muscle memory is just starting to reach for things without having to think. It's how cooks get fast, I think; just being able to put together all the parts without having to stop to remember what's in that particular dish. Most of the salads I make, for example, have anywhere between seven and ten ingredients each, and I still sometimes have to stop and think, 'Wait, is there pepper in this one?' It really helps that we taste everything, EVERYTHING, before it goes up to the window to get delivered to the tables, as I've made most of the dishes enough times to know if there's something missing when I taste it.

I'm knocking stuff out fairly quickly though, for having only been there for a week, and I love that my chef asked me on my third day, in reference to how busy we were on my second day but how I managed to make it through intact, "So are you proud of everything you put up? Did everything taste good?" It means a lot to me that my chef is encouraging my pride in my work, and not just expecting me to knock out dishes quickly (though they do expect that too!).

I'm happy to have the next week off from school, as this will give me a great opportunity to just focus at work and be well-rested when I'm there. I know I can be a lot faster, a lot cleaner, a lot more efficient, and I have many more recipes to learn, but I have faith that I'm getting there.

Step by step.

Calm before the storm

It's a relaxing Sunday, lounging in bed with the Macbook on my lap, yet the butterflies in my stomach have me thinking about exactly how hectic my life is about to become.


Sunday morning disheveled attire with my monkey, Mocha

This week may be one of the most challenging weeks of my life yet, no exaggeration; probably on par with the last week of my senior year of college before my comprehensive finals were due and I was pulling out my hair (and crying a lot) trying to get my B.A.

But that was seven years ago, and a lot has changed since then. For one, I don't feel that impending dread of "I just want to get this over with." In fact, I am so excited about this coming week, I've been blathering like a nutcase to anyone who will listen about my new job I haven't even officially started yet. There are probably very few people in the world who are as excited as myself to be a pantry/prep cook, but then again, very few people make it into the kitchen of "a top-tier professional restaurant" (the executive chef's words) with no professional kitchen experience whatsoever. Really, it's kind of a miracle, and I'm still stunned.

Credit, however, should be given where credit is due: I know I wouldn't have been able to achieve this without my chef instructors' guidance and genius at culinary school. Exercises that seemed trivial at the time, such as equipment identification tests and knowing how to cut a fine brunoise (1/16" cubed), served me so well during my stage, that I felt great not having to ask someone what a nine-pan was or the dimensions of a julienne or how to cut an orange into supremes. All the training we had on proper seasoning seemed to help me the most: Too often, beginner cooks are afraid of salt, for fear of making something taste salty, but when properly applied, salt only serves to enhance the existing flavors.

This little miracle has resulted in what will be 40+ hour work weeks at the restaurant, on top of what is already 25 to 30 hours at school, five days a week, and possibly weekends at work. Basically I'll be doing 14 to 15 hour days, mostly on my feet, involving repetitive and strenuous labor (and LOTS of cleaning).

Who would be nuts enough to do this, much less look forward to it? Only us crazies who love creating something extraordinarily delicious, who revel in gently manipulating the freshest of ingredients, who crave honing their methods and skills, who happily turn up the speed when orders are flying at us, and who get off on making a patron's night with an excellent meal. It's the ultimate in instant gratification.

But let's not get too romantically carried away. The exec chef made it clear that I'm getting myself into something really big, and I have very large shoes to fill (again, his words). Not to mention I am the first woman to be hired in this kitchen of foul-mouthed, testosterone-driven men, as most cooks tend to be. The night of my stage, I kept getting disclaimers from the chefs about the fact that their kitchen has been all-guys for a long time, and they hope I don't have delicate ears. Ha! My reply to their disclaimers: "Sounds like there's far too much man-love up in here. You need a girl around these parts."

I admit that being the only female to be hired in that kitchen makes me more proud of myself. Yet the chef has said, "Just so you know, I'm not going to take it easy on you because you're female," and I would expect no less.

I don't fool myself into thinking I'll be perfect at this job from the get-go, and I know I'll have many tough days where things don't work out as I planned. But I've never been more excited to step into new and unexplored territory. I have a lot to learn, A LOT, and it's a matter of keeping up the energy and enthusiasm I had the night of my stage.

Oh, did I mention I have a comprehensive test at school tomorrow, midterms and a kitchen practical on Friday, plus the five-minute mirepoix drill showdown?

Here goes nothin'. Or everything.

p.s. - Anyone out there ever been in a similar situation? I could use some friendly coping tips (especially ones that don't involve drinking or general substance abuse). And thanks again, everyone, for the support. I have a feeling I'm gonna need it in these coming months.

It's always when you're not looking...

... that the right one finds you.

I went to happy hour tonight with the intention of catching up with a friend and eating some delicious goodies at one of Portland's best restaurants, and I walked out of that restaurant with a stage (tryout period)! I had no intention of asking, but a series of fortuitous circumstances landed me in the kitchen talking with the executive chef about my past restaurant experience, my present culinary school, and staging in their restaurant. Hardly five minutes later, I walked back to the table, totally in shock, half-laughing and half-mumbling, "Ohmygod, what the hell, I start staging here tomorrow, what the f*** just happened??" I'm still numb, but I'm completely ecstatic.

What is staging, you ask? Firstly, it's Frenchified, pronounced "stahhhj-ing" with a soft "j". It's basically an unpaid tryout period where you get a chance to see how their kitchen works, and they get to see how you work, your knife skills, your cleanliness, your prep speed, your general sense of urgency. If you seem worth your salt, they may hire you. Alternately, if it doesn't work out, no harm, no foul. The hope here is that it works out, obviously.

I'm convinced the universe is paying attention to my thoughts; I've been thinking for several weeks now that I should really start working in a kitchen, just to get a feel for it. You know, see how I do and if it's where I want to be, as we're starting to pin down our externships for Term 4. More importantly, I've been noticing more and more that my fellow classmates who work in kitchens outside of school are faster, cleaner, more efficient, and have more tricks up their sleeves than myself and my fellow students who have never worked in a real kitchen. They know how it really works, and that sense of urgency that is so important in a kitchen just comes naturally to them.

I want that, and this stage is the perfect opportunity. And I start tomorrow after school! Seriously, WTF?!? I'm still in shock.

I think there was a little bit of hesitation from the sous chef because of my gender; the sous asked me if I had a thick skin, and my reply: "I know I look sweet, but..." Heh. I figure if I've been able to handle the guys at school, many of whom work in restaurants, and none of whom make any effort to clean up their language or spare me from teasing because I'm a girl, I can handle these guys fine. Now it's a matter of seeing if I can cut it in the kitchen.

And a big, big thank you, you know who you are ;).

I must admit that I'm nervous as all hell, but this is truly an amazing opportunity, and my intention is just to learn as much as possible and drink it all in. Universe, you really know how to take a girl by surprise.

Choice phrases at OCI

The following are some choice phrases and terms my chef instructor used in the kitchen and classroom today:

-"Herbalicious"
-"Cilantroness"
-"Just say no to day-glo" (as in French's mustard)
-"Technicolor yawn" (an interesting term for puking)
...and my favorite:
-"Full yogurt dangle" (this was in reference to a true story involving a chef who cut a very hot Manzana pepper with bare hands and then failed wash his hands before using the restroom. The yogurt was the salvaging solution)

And these are just the ones I remembered to write down. He had some choice words about the English palate, but I'll spare your delicate ears (ask me in person if you want to know). Needless to say, I'm having a great time in T2, despite the onslaught of homework and the fact that I'm getting to school between 7 and 7:30AM every morning as well as staying after class to keep up with the workload. My chef instructor is officially brilliant, and I've become that super-annoying girl in class who won't stop asking questions because he's got answers for everything. EVERYTHING, I tell you.

I'm a regular Hermione Granger, and I can't help it, really. I've become sponge-like in my quest for culinary knowledge, and my resources are simply too great to not pester. Is that so wrong?

First day back quickie

I'm deep in homework mode right now, but I wanted to share that the first day of Term 2 was a success. When I got to school this morning, I was pleasantly surprised to realize how excited I was to be back at school, and to see everyone again. We received a mountain of course work, packets and our homework schedule, and I gotta say, upon initial evaluation, the workload looks fairly brutal.


My bandaged thumb (keep reading below) and a mountain of homework

The only downside about today was the part where I cut my thumb during mirepoix drills. We had 5 minutes to cut as much small-dice carrot, onion and celery as possible, and were graded on quality of cut as well as volume. The goal at the end of this 4 weeks is to cut 2 quarts of veg in 5 minutes (the most ever done was one full gallon by some student last term). I'm aiming for 3 quarts.

The rules are if you cut yourself, you're done with that drill. About 2 minutes in, I had chopped about 2 cups of onion and began chopping away at celery, and the tip of my thumb slipped under my knife. I was more annoyed that I had to stop than the fact that I cut myself, especially since it was easily covered with a bandage, but I get it--no one would hire a sloppy, unhygienic cook. My instructor made me leave my bloody thumbprint on my grading sheet and wrote "BLOOD SACRIFICE" as my grade. Seriously. He's funny.

This is going to be a hectic term, but I'm really looking forward to it. Every day starts with 15 minutes of knife drills, so let's hope I keep my remaining appendages unscathed.

Start of Term 2 at Oregon Culinary Institute

I've been away for a bit, as I've been thoroughly enjoying a 10-day break between the end of Term 1 and the start of Term 2, which, incidentally, begins tomorrow. I can't deny I have a few butterflies in my tummy about beginning a new term with a new class, new instructors and double-to-triple the workload, but fortunately it's not a nauseating feeling. More like elated anticipation.

Looking back on Term 1, I can't believe how quickly it flew by. What I'm most amazed by is the fact that I've learned so much already, I feel like I've been in school for at least an undergrad semester, not the actual eight weeks that Term 1 occupied. The last week of Term 1 was especially challenging for a variety of reasons, but on the last day, finals day, my kitchen partner and I managed to pull off some plates that I'm particularly proud of: Pork chops with cherry-almond stuffing served with creamy mashed potatoes, grilled asparagus, grilled eggplant and roasted yellow peppers, and pan-fried chicken Supremes (boneless chicken breast with leg bone attached, aka "airline breast") in lemon-garlic Espagnole sauce served with pan-fried sun-dried tomato and basil polenta, roasted red peppers and sauteed spinach. They weren't perfect, as the pork chop was a bit overdone and some of the grilled veg were charred, but I was happy with the seasoning and presentation at day's end. I wish I had thought to take some photos of our final dishes, but I guess I'll have to recreate them some other time. Hint, hint.

I have to say, I attribute the sense of readiness and most of the creative inspiration to that fabulous dinner at Le Pigeon I wrote about previously. It really got the juices flowing for a nice presentation. Though every part of our menu was planned almost a week in advanced, I decided on finals morning to nix the boring roasted potatoes we were planning on doing for our pan-fried chicken Supreme, and go all-out with the colorful, round polenta cakes, each topped off with a beautiful basil leaf. It's not a difficult process, pan-fried polenta, as long as your mise is well-done.

Finals day also consisted of a written comprehensive exam of about 100 questions, which wasn't too painful. Also due were our math work books, study guides, proficiency sheet with about 15 tasks (including various cuts of potatoes, vegetable cooking methods, tomato concasse, et al, each of which had to be personally inspected and signed by an instructor), as well as our big notebook with all of our work over the last 4 weeks, including recipe analysis sheets and tasting journals.

I'm not sure what to expect from Term 2 yet, especially since I've been told that my uber-brilliant instructor has been known to make people cry, but my expectations for class and for myself are high as ever. My mom thinks they're too high, and maybe she's right. I just have to remind myself occasionally to make sure I'm having fun. Sounds silly, I know, but necessary for the moments that I'm on the verge.

In the Term 1 home stretch

Large dice (3/4-in square) for knife skills proficiency:


(It took me two whole large Russet potatoes and a whole lot of agony to get eight perfectly square large dice pieces. The larger ones are always harder than you think.)

So Friday was the fourth to last day of my first term of school. It's a vitally important four days, as it's definitely the most daunting of the projects to date: Four days of a restaurant-ready presentation of both pork and chicken with different starch and two to three vegetables for each. That's less than two hours for two full plates *per student*. Up to this point we've only been responsible for one plated meat-starch-veg presentation per day, so essentially the workload doubled on Friday. Friday, Monday and Tuesday are essentially practice for our graded kitchen practical on Wednesday. Plus, every day is peppered with a variety of tests, from knife skills to kitchen proficiency to written exams covering eight intense weeks of material.

Before Friday, we were squeaking by for time as it was, so I couldn't help but be a tad concerned about doubling the workload. It got to the point where I had a mini anxiety attack in the middle of a friend's birthday party Thursday evening, and had to gulp down a glass of the worst wine I've ever had in a restaurant (thanks, Old Town Pizza!) to calm the nerves. It's slightly hilarious now that I'm recalling the situation, but a little scary while it was happening. Thanks to some good company with friends, I managed to not go over the edge.

Friday morning rolled around, and I was up with a start half an hour before my 6:30AM alarm. I slept fitfully, but after a good shower, I buttoned up the chef's whites, remembering to tuck a t-shirt into my bag for the 90°F+ temps later in the day, and got to school at 7:30 to gather the mise en place for our menu.

And boy am I ever glad I did. Things went so smoothly that I surprised even myself, and I attribute that extra half hour to our sense of readiness. We were the only team to come in on time that day, but more importantly, everything was well-seasoned and well-finished. None of the meat or veg were overdone, and our plates looked clean and presentable, for the most part. I was really proud of our team for getting the job done well, and I'm crossing my fingers that the next three days will be just as efficient. Cross your fingers for me, people!

We had our knife skills test on Friday as well, and though I didn't do as well as I hoped, I didn't do badly either. On the positive side, though I had twinges of regret over the course of this term for missing certain shows or parties because I needed to do homework, in retrospect I'm extremely happy that I've kept up with the homework schedule up to this point. I've managed to have a relaxing weekend instead of toiling away at work I put off to the last minute. Last minute work and overdue papers were a far-too-common occurrence while I was getting my B.A., and I'm determined this time not to let it happen again.

In fact, the difference between the process of getting my B.A. and culinary school is so striking, I really feel like I'm an entirely different person this time around. It certainly helps that I have a passion for my school studies, and I feel like I'm really, truly ready this time.

It's a good feeling.

My lucky day

It's Friday! Bread pudding for everyone!


Sinful and disgustingly delectable bread pudding at Wildwood

How is it Friday already? Seriously, kids. This week has flown by the fastest of any week at school so far, and one of the most productive and efficient yet. If someone told me on the first day of school that we'd be doing fully plated, sellable meat-veg-starch plates in six weeks time, I'd have said "You're nuts." We've evolved from mashed potatoes and French fries to Duxelle-stuffed chicken with Gnocchi Piedmontese and Ratatouille, using the same amount of kitchen time, but incorporating all the skills we've learned up to this point. I'm simply amazed, and I'll remember to get a camera in the kitchen during school soon, I promise.

Speaking of Duxelle-stuffed chicken and the rest, my class partner had to tend to an emergency and was thus out of school for a couple of days. This meant it was up to little me, myself and I to complete the full menu by myself. I admit to being slightly freaked out, but with a little guidance from my fabulous (and fabulously patient) chef instructors and a few deep yoga breaths, on Wednesday (the first day of my partner's absence) I turned out a nice plate of stuffed chicken leg (that I deboned myself), handmade gnocchi and stewed vegetables that surprised even myself. One of the best complements came from one of my chef instructors, who declared that though he's rarely hungry that early in the morning, my plate whetted his appetite for lunch.

Halfway through production on Wednesday, Chef Wilke came into the kitchen as he often does to check in, and saw that my shallots for the duxelle stuffing were just starting to brown to the point of near-burn. I was running about elsewhere, trying not to freak out, and he stopped me for a minute and said to me, "This is something you'll learn in time, but when you're multi-tasking, eventually you'll have a little voice or a feeling that just comes to you like 'Oh yeah!' to remind you of all the things you have going on." I explained to him, slightly embarrassed, but mostly grateful that he'd caught the shallots from burning, that I was by myself in the kitchen because my partner wasn't there.

He smiled and said, "Well then, today's your lucky day!"

At first I didn't get it. Well, it's more like I was thinking, 'Are you joking? How is it "lucky" that I got left to do all this by myself?' But as I got into the groove of the day, things began to come together, and when time was up, I found myself standing at my work table with a well-flavored, presentable plate in front of me. Exhausted but elated, I realized suddenly that I was happy to be challenged to complete this task, and really proud of myself for doing a good job.

Something else to think about: This kind of stuff happens all the time in the real world. People call in sick or have emergencies at the last minute, and it's not the first time I've been left with double the workload. It's a part of the industry, and I didn't break any barriers by doing this by myself (one of my classmates did the same menu by himself earlier this week).

Nonetheless, I'm learning to take pride in the small steps and accomplishments. It was my lucky day, as I know now that I can do a good job on my own if need be.

Taste of the Nation 2008

Doing the lazy blogger thing and reposting a message I wrote on a Portland Food thread regarding my experience at Taste of the Nation. I hope I don't come off as too gripe-y, as I did manage to have a good time, but it wasn't exactly what I was expecting, that's for sure. It's also informing and shaping my ideas about catering in Portland (TBD in the future). Let's just say I'm starting to dream about other areas of the industry, mainly food writing, a lot more.

Also, I got my grade back today for Culinary 110, and I'm very, very happy. That and dinner with a good friend made today a good one.

So here's the repost:

Just thought I'd throw in my 2 cents as a volunteer and OCI student. There were about 20 of us students there. We spent the first 2-3 hours helping load in restaurants and wineries, and then during the event we shared duties bussing tables, dumping trash, sorting trash, refilling waters, getting extra plates/forks/etc., and doing whatever else needed to be done. A couple of lucky students got to do some actual plating with a few restaurants, though I was not one of those lucky ones this time.

I have to say that though there weren't any major incidents, for an event that's been going for as long as TOTN has been (21 years!), it seems kind of disorganized. The people we worked under were really great and super nice, but I felt off-kilter all night. It felt way understaffed for one, and they said they've done with as few as 10 volunteers in the past, which just seems nightmarish. All the 1000+ attendee events I've ever worked in the past had at least one server per 10 people. They definitely could have used more hands with the addition of the champagne reception tables in the middle of the room. And like Pyrofemme said, the "sustainability stations", though a great idea in theory, got to be a total mess at some points. They need way more than 2 or 3 people working each station with the amount of trash to go through.

Meanwhile, though I enjoyed myself for the most part and got to chat with some Portland Food folks, as well as meet a few prospective externship opportunity chefs, I was so busy busting my ass with bussing tables that I feel it was almost not worth it. I've got some blisters on my unhappy toes! Granted I could have been a little lazier about bussing and done more with the networking, and other students who took that path were more successful in their networking, but I felt awkward bothering some of the chefs whose tables were totally slammed about externing at their places. There seemed to be a lot of confusion about what exactly everyone was doing, and it would have been helpful to post up a schedule for set up and breakdown points and the specific tasks to be done. Also, I agree about the lighting being too dim, and that back pathway where Pho Van, Russell's, etc were was a cluster****.

By the time I got my break, Toro Bravo was totally cleaned out, so I missed out on their pig. But I did have Simpatica's sliders, so I got my pork for the night. My favorite has to go to Meriwether's - not for the shrimp and grits, which were good, but for their focaccia with foie gras butter crostinis. I'm surprised no one else has mentioned it. Absolutely delectable--I went back for thirds. Also loved the St. Cupcake toasted coconut cupcake. Mmmm.

All in all, unless they have more volunteers to share the workload, I might consider paying for the ticket rather than volunteering in the future. Or maybe I need better shoes!

Minestrone madness

Pictured above: minestrone soup and New England clam chowder, two of the three soups my partner and I made in class today, the one not pictured being Wisconsin beer cheddar soup (tastes better than it sounds, I promise). I must say, today was a fantastic contrast to how terribly I felt last Monday in the kitchen. Though we weren't doing anything we hadn't done before, as our first project ever was soup, I feel like I'm finally starting to pull away from the recipes and listen to instinct. How something looks or feels is becoming more important and apparent to me than ever before, even in contrast to mere weeks ago.

A perfect example: We did cream of tomato soup three weeks ago, and the original recipe calls for far too much chicken broth and makes a very thin and unappetizing soup. Because I wasn't paying attention, I just did what the recipe said and our soup, of course, turned out to be much too watery. Thankfully we had extra roux leftover and were able to save the soup from total tomato disaster. The roux thickened up nicely, but we could have avoided having to add the extra roux had I just been watching when I added the stock. Anybody would have seen it was way too thin.

Today, I was determined to make our soups shine. In the past three days, we've tasted the same three soups every day, but each day tastes totally different as made by different teams. Two out of three times the minestrone soup was bland, flavorless, and basically tasted like vegetable water. The original recipe for minestrone, like the cream of tomato, also calls for far too much stock, which was the main problem with the previous versions of the soup. My partner also smartly suggested using vegetable stock instead of chicken stock, as minestrone is essentially a vegetable soup and the veg stock really highlights the sweet, garden-y qualities of the veggies in use.

After sweating the small-diced vegetables, I deglazed the minestrone vegetables in white wine, which the original recipe did not call for but I thought would be a great kick in sweetness and acidity. We added the veg stock and let it simmer, meanwhile working on seasoning the other soups. We used a nice, extra-sharp white cheddar and Red Stripe beer for the beer cheese soup, and my clam-chowder-disliking partner and I reached a happy medium for size of clams and consistency of chowder. My partner ended up liking the clam chowder so much, she took some home. I call that a victory for all clam-chowder lovers out there.

I think today was the best overall of the last four days of production in the kitchen. I felt the most prepared, having written out a prep list last night and read and re-read the recipes. Our mise en place was well-prepped, we paced ourselves well and we cleaned as we worked, so by the time the soups were done, we only had to wash our soup pots and serving utensils (as opposed to a pile of bowls, pie pans, cutting boards and whatever else we may have dirtied up in the process).

Tomorrow is day one of what is basically our two-day midterm exams, though my chef instructor hesitates to use the word "exam" or anything test-related, for fear of giving us the willies. I admit to having a few butterflies in the tummy, but I think it's just a matter of having the confidence to kick some butt. Wish me luck!

Helpful reminders

Our culinary class is divided into four groups, each of which is assigned a set of recipes to complete by a given time each day (usually we get about two hours from start to plate, sometimes less, which can get hairy but somehow we manage). The recipes get rotated through the groups so every group gets to make all the recipes at some point.

Yesterday was the first day of our third project, the first project being soups and the second, vegetable cooking methods. We were also shuffled around into new groups, and my new partner and I tackled braised cabbage, braised fennel, corn fritters, beer-battered pan-fried zucchini and roasted red pepper coulis for the fried zukes. I was happiest with the coulis, which my chef instructor gave the thumbs up, as did Chef Wilke, who constantly walks around the kitchens, surveying and tasting. The fennel was surprisingly delicious, as was the cabbage (though a bit overdone, Southern-style, but still good in flavor).

I was in charge of the corn fritters, and though I thought the flavor was excellent with the addition of some fresh basil chiffonade, the oil was too hot when the batter went in. Instead of a lovely golden brown, they were clearly burnt in a couple spots and in a general an unsightly dark brown all over. Surprisingly, burning them did not compromise the flavor much, but my instructor deemed them unfit for general restaurant service. I sadly and disappointingly relented in agreement. My classmates still tasted them, and though it was overall a better day than Monday, still a bit of a let-down.

We began lecture today by discussing what happened yesterday in production. My chef instructor asked me directly about the corn fritters, and I relayed in my best "positive attitude" tone what went wrong, what could have been done better, but that generally speaking I didn't think they were ruined. The chef instructor, who is not one to mince words, cut me off and said, "Well, actually, they were ruined. Yeah, the taste was alright, but you wouldn't serve that to the general public, would you? And that's who we're going to be cooking for, right?"

I felt a rush of blood go to my face and was thankful at that very moment that I don't blush much when embarrassed, or my face would have been a bright, hot pink. I was slightly irritated and felt foolish for saying anything at all. I nodded silently in agreement and was determined to keep my mouth shut for the rest of class.

My chef instructor, however, quickly followed with, "But listen, just because the food was ruined doesn't mean you're a failure. You're not. I'm glad you're making the mistakes now, in a safe environment where it doesn't cost you a thing to make mistakes. It won't cost you your job, or your money, maybe a little time but that's ok. That's what we're here for, right?"

I felt the blood leave my head and my muscles relaxed. My instructor was right, and I remembered suddenly, 'I'm in school. I'm paying to have this freedom to make mistakes and to learn from my mistakes.' I smiled a little at how irritated I was just seconds before, and thought to myself about how glad I am that I'm in such good hands. My tendency to take things personally was shaken off a bit, and I was ultimately reminded to be less hard on myself.

So yes, today was a good day.

Disappointment via Duchesse

This is what I felt like today after school: A bag of sweating, deflated Duchesse potatoes.

I made these in class today, and though I think they turned out alright, I'll admit that the lab part of class was my first truly frustrating day in the kitchen. I don't know if it was the fact that I had just bade farewell to my mom, who was in town for a total of 20 hours between yesterday and today, or that my school work team of three was missing a member, or that this morning's weather was unbelievably miserable especially after such a lovely weekend (Saturday at Pike Place Market in Seattle was incredible. And packed like canned tuna). The mood in class was one of general droopiness, much more so for me after my mom's departure, and it carried into the kitchen until we were dismissed.

The morning started out fine enough. I gave my mom a tour of the classrooms, kitchens and restaurant, where we ran into OCI's awesome co-founder Brian Wilke, who told my mom I was a "model student" (thanks, Chef Wilke!). I introduced her to all my instructors and classmates, and she even sat in on the first hour of lecture. She was enlightened on conversions in culinary math (ounces vs. fluid ounces, teaspoons in tablespoons and the like) and then during break I walked her back to my apartment and I called her a cab to the airport.

After I returned to school, the rest of lecture was fine, and then we had a fairly mellow (and very informative) demo on spices for the first hour of kitchen time. Once we got started on our projects in the kitchen, however, I felt like my brain and body were on slo-mo. I was a mess with my mise en place, and even though our tasks for today were relatively easy (roasting, charring and seasoning red peppers; and a potato of our choice), I couldn't get the "giddyup in my step" (as my chef instructor would say) for the life of me.

I was really eager to try Duchesse potatoes, as they've long been something of a mystery to me. I remember seeing a photo of those delicate, piped potatoes in one of my very first cookbooks at the age of 11 or 12 and thinking, 'Wow, I bet rich, fancy people who wear gloves to dinner eat these all the time'. For something that has held a place of "Fancy Foods on a Pedestal" in my head for far too long, they're surprisingly easy. They're basically mashed potatoes mixed with raw egg, piped and baked, and I got a hang of the piping bag much faster than I thought.

However, it took us a good hour and a half from start to finish. Our batter turned out much too runny after the addition of the egg and egg yolks, but fortunately we had some extra potatoes on the stove for mashed potatoes to donate to Potluck in the Park. With the additional time it took to dry out the potatoes, press them through a chinois sieve and add them to the batter along with more salt and pepper, we ended up plating our potatoes about 15 minutes past the goal plating time of 1:15PM. Being 15 minutes behind just made me feel like I was playing catch up with everything else, and I really begun to understand the meaning of the industry term "in the weeds", kitchen-wise at least. I've been in the weeds my fair share as a restaurant server and host, and it's never a pretty sight to behold.

In addition to the potato trouble, I had much more difficulty than I imagined with skinning the dry oven-roasted pepper, and even after a return to the oven and period of sweating in a plastic bag, about 40% of the skin refused to come off. Short of cutting off the whole top layer of pepper which has a lot of flavor and color that one does not want to lose, there’s not much else I could do, which left me frustrated and at a loss. Fortunately, enough of the pepper was salvaged that I could successfully julienne and season it with balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper, which turned out quite nicely.

Not to say it was a total trainwreck or anything of the sort. Far from it. In fact, at day's end, we turned out some good Duchesse potatoes which my chef instructors complemented and the peppers ended up fine. Maybe it was my overly-self-critical, perfectionist side coming out, but I felt like I lacked efficiency as well as quick-thinking on the whole, and it was an altogether frustrating day in the kitchen. And my first! Hey, there's a first for everything.

Although I'm an idealist, I'm fully aware that this is only the first of many frustrating days to come, with my externship still to occur, as well as many days of a hopefully food-related career ahead. Just goes to show you that things aren't perfect all of the time, even at my dream school. On board for tomorrow: kicking ass on our project. Watch out, Eggplant Parmesan!