Halfway there

CAUTION: unusually long blog - this is what you get when I haven't posted in 2 weeks.

We are halfway through semester 1 of Culinary School and I'd like to say that the freak-out moments are fewer, but that wouldn't really be accurate.  My life is insanely crazy.  Yes, that is like saying crazy crazy, but that is the only way I can describe it.

Two Monday's ago we focused on meat - fabricating (cutting into identifiable portions), beef and pork, and then preparing 5 'plates'.  This past Monday was vegetables which included 'mystery basket' and in that basket were vegetables that most Americans shy away from. From this we were challenged to prepare 5 meals.

Back to the meat.  What a night.  First it's an hour of lecture, followed by 15 very fast minutes of deciding what we, as a 'table', would prepare, and then executing to present to Chef during a specified time.  It all sounds so simple, right? Just go into the kitchen and execute.  Not so simple.  We all question ourselves and it's virtually impossible to taste every single thing that each of us is doing. I'm understanding that fast and accurate knife skills are critical because taking a long time to chop things eats away at precious minutes....minutes that you need toward the end of the class when you are panicking about getting your plating done and to Chef on time.  Points off for being late...gggrrrrr.  There's no one to blame but yourself when it doesn't go as planned. 

Fabricating the pork loin took longer than any of us would have imagined. What the heck is with all of that stringy, silver stuff all over the pork?  Also...use more salt than you think you need to use. I'm actually pretty good on the seasoning....my younger classmates have a fear of salt. We are learning. 

And don't be deceived by the friendly collard greens, fennel and cauliflower in the 'basket' which was really an ugly gray tub.  This Yankee had never even had a collard green much less done anything to them. With them. Whatever.  We are taking risks and learning, so that's a check in the plus column.

Trust your gut and remember that you can use every single piece of equipment in the kitchen with reckless abandon because there is a dishwasher on staff and he is responsible for doing all of the dishes.  I have got to get over that phobia and just focus on the food.  These are the things that go through my mind as I am driving home, while I'm sleeping, when I get up and when I'm working out.  I give myself a lot of pep talks these days.

Back to the craziness of my life.  After these 7, 8 weeks I'm getting into somewhat of a routine. This is how my week goes:

Monday - wake up. Coffee. On the phone recruiting. Workout at noon, shower,I'm pumped about doing better at school today, iron my uniform, eat, work some more. Leave at 3:30pm and drive through Sonic for a large iced tea which will jack me up enough to get through  the next 8 hours, school, back home by 11:45pm, shower, big glass of wine, read, bed by 2 am.
Tuesday - between 8 and 9 am stagger to the coffee pot, 2 hour workout, chiropractor, home by 12:30pm to work all afternoon. I'm tired, but muscle through the day because I'm working off of Sunday nights sleep.
Wednesday - this is the worst day because I wake up feeling like a Mac truck has hit me. Lack of sleep hits.  I am super crabby with a short fuse. No outside appointments are scheduled because I will frighten anyone who comes in contact with me. The 1.5 - 2 hour workout is tough, but I do it. Work conversations are as short as possible. Mr. Man is smart to keep his distance and wisely limits conversation.  Bed time can't come quick enough but I have a baking order that needs to be started. Begin to question my sanity.
Thursday - feeling human again; up around 7:30, good, long training day and then I'm on it all day. Baking order to finish but at least I have the energy to take care of it before and after preparing dinner. Am getting used to the ugly dark circles under my eyes. Sunglasses help.
Friday - Wake to the sound of husband in the shower and wonder how it can already be morning. Before my feet hit the ground already thinking of my training schedule and what calls I have to make and what baking orders need to be delivered.  Weekly client conference call at 8 am while having that first cup of coffee, back to the kitchen to finish packaging decorated sugar cookies, another phone call, and then off to deliver the cookies and then hit the post office to ship cookies.  To the Y for a 1.5 hour workout, to Walmart for Halloween candy, then back to the office to work and think about what to do for dinner. Thank God Mr. Man calls and suggests dinner out.
Saturday and Sunday are spent on long training sessions and either baking or practicing what we've learned in school or trying out new things.  Last weekend was Roasted Butternut Squash soup and this weekend I'll make a cheesecake for a friend and also prepare something to take to a neighborhood get-together prior to the Trick or Treaters coming out.  Mr. Man really liked the soup so I'll make that again and take some to school to count as one of my show and tell items that prove I've been practicing at home.

In between I'm trying to stay in touch with friends and family, do the laundry, clean, cook and be the June Cleaver I secretly want to be. Mr. Man's daughter, Ashley, had a darling baby boy two weeks ago and he's adorable.  My daughter, Honey Girl, is expecting baby #2 again in late March / early April and I can't even think about the logistics of that blessed event.  Our wonderful daughter-in-law, Jackie, graduated from the French Culinary School this past week. She's now insisting that we all refer to her as Chef Jackie and you know that I will because at some point I'll graduate.

Do you think I can get the grandchildren to call me Chef Gigi?

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!

Reality Check

I was feeling pretty positive following Monday's night of chicken; several of the items our table presented for evaluation were good and in the debrief following the night Chef told us (I should have taken this as a WARNING:) that he grades tough. But...in my chicken enduced high, I didn't listen.

Just like a scary movie you don't want to watch but find you can't pull yourself away from, I just had to log in to the school online grading system to check my class grade.

Thinking that I would certainly get a better grade than the 80 I received for the prior week I quickly went to week 6 and ..... what!?  78.  That's right. 78.

Okay.  Here's the real deal.  I was terrible in high school, and when I say terrible, I mean really bad. Didn't care. Didn't study. Did NOT want to be there.  There were maybe 400 in my graduating class and I graduated roughly # 382.  I kid you not.  My grades were so bad that I destroyed the only copy I had of my transcripts.  The fact that I graduated was the only thing that mattered to me because I wasn't going to college anyway. It didn't matter.

But now it does.

That grade has driven me absolutely crazy all week and I was miserable on Tuesday. So miserable that I cried during GLEE.  What?  I am not a crier.  At all.  Imagine what I could have done with my life if I had cared this much during high school? Oh where was the passion then?

Then I started reading Kitchen Confidendial and now everything is making sense to me.  I am the problem. Not my cooking. Me. My mouth and probably everything about the way I am. 

There is a heiarchy in the kitchen, a heiarchy I was unaware of.   We are to do what we are told, I don't believe questions are really encouraged, and we are to be quick, efficient and CLEAN and tidy.  I must possess a new strategy. No more laughing or talking. It's work fast and be efficient. If another student asks me a question I will suggest they go ask Chef for the answer.

My only fear is that my head will explode. But....if I get a higher grade next week by zipping my mouth, keeping my area very clean and not asking a lot of question, I will have solved the mystery.

The food I prepare is good - I think they just don't like me. 

Winding Down

The very best aspect of Culinary School is that once Chef starts the lecture, there is nothing else.  In an instant, there goes any thought of work, laundry, to-do lists and have-to's...nothing is important with the exception of what Chef is saying and what must be accomplished during the next 5+ hours.  It's incredibly liberating and terrifying, all at the same time.

Tonight was all about poultry fabrication, which means taking 1 whole chicken and cutting it into 8 beautiful pieces and all of the ways to cook and prepare said chicken.  Well, not all of the ways because believe you me, there are hundreds of ways to cook and prepare chicken.  Just ask my mom.

Tonight we practiced four of them; pan frying, roasting, braising and poaching, which always make me kind of gag because I have yet to eat anything poached that was savory.  It just is not high on my list of ways to prepare ANYTHING.  We also prepared a salad a couple of sauces, rice and Duchess potatoes.

There 's just something about being in the kitchen with all of the madness, the hum of people working, conferring and figuring out what do to that really warms and invigorates me. It's strange how it happens and all of the emotions that go coursing through me as I work with two other students to prepare our meals. We are a team/table and we must work together as a table and all of the tables have to work together as a kitchen. 

I am finding that I want all of the answers and to know how to do everything, now and I get a little frustrated with myself when I don't/can't do/have them.

Example - I am a pretty safe cook, and what I mean by that is that I have a palate of flavors that I have worked with over the years that I'm comfortable with and I've been just fine when having guests to our home.  It's worked for me.  Well...my class mates have their own palates and guess what?  They are different than mine.  It's forcing me to do things outside of my comfort zone and to expand my senses to enjoy flavors that others really enjoy, like curry, for example.  I'm not saying this is bad, it's just an observation.  I'm learning to get comfortable with it, although, not fast enough for my liking but tonight I trusted, embraced my fear of some flavors and went with it. That learning paid off.

We did well...there were a few tense moments, but we pulled it together and presented all of our plates. The entire kitchen was late (collective gasp!), and our table was the last.  It's a balancing act and we are working it out and learning.  Our salad was "very" good; our pan fried chicken over-done (I won't get into why, although it did have to do with stopping to clean our table and being forced to walk away from the chicken frying in the pan...'nuff said and lesson learned), roasted chicken a tad overdone, poached chicken overdone, as was everyone's,  although our tarragon sauce was the best and our braise along with the curry sauce was the best of the night and Chef had every student try it.  Our rice was seasoned perfectly.  So....we did okay.

My personality is coming out more and more and that just can't be helped and maybe I don't want to hide it.  I'm trying so hard to not be "Miss Bossy Boss," and at the same time I'm being true to myself. Why is it that at 49 I still need to know that I'm okay?  Where does that come from and why, I ask myself, does it even matter? 

It hit me that Chef had caught a glimpse of the true me when, during our de-brief after we had cleaned up and met again in the lecture area, he was explaining to us that next week's class would be about beef.  Chef, jokingly said, "we'll turn Marcus (the only guy in our class), loose with a knife to cut up a half of a cow, and then quipped, "no....we'll let Ginger go after it," and then he did the classic stabbing motion that most folks equate with the Alfred Hitchcock thriller Psycho!  WTH...really?  Seriously?  This does not bode well for my grade...

They won't throw me out...I have too many more classes to take, and, just like a bad penny, I'll keep turning up.

Playing Catch-Up

Even though the past several weeks have gone by in a blur, they have at least been fun and productive.

 I tried out the tart pans CC gave me. They had belonged to her mom, Jane, so they are very special to me.

 A friend order 2 dozen cookies for a baby shower....Teddy Bears and

  ducks.

 And, I made a Strawberry cake, 4 layers high, for a dear friend's birthday...

 which provided a great learning experience...soft cake, like strawberry, begins to lean after a short time.

Diane enjoying her girlfriends singing Happy Birthday to her.

Throw in school, work, training and life and you get the picture. However, everyone is busy these days and my schedule does not get any sympathy from friends or family.  And their right...everyone is over-scheduled and over committed, so quit whining.

Last weeks class was the most terrifying to date. We were told, before leaving class Number 3, that we would be preparing all of the same 'proteins' (aka meat...chicken, pork, fish, shrimp, etc.), as we had been taught the week before, but this time we were going to have to "plate" the food.  That means not only would we be responsible for thoroughly cooking the chicken, etc., but we would have to take care with the presentation of the food and also prepare additional dishes to accompany the protein.  WHAT?!

I was so not prepared for that curve ball.  The class was split into three groups (tables), and expected to work together to prepare the 'menu', prepare the dishes and we would have 2 windows of time in which we would, as a team, take the food to chef Loy to be evaluated, and tasted.  Are you kidding me? 

It felt as if I woke up smack dab in the middle of a movie and had to figure out the beginning from just a few snapshots.  Gone was the hand holding and the kid gloves. We were out there on our own.

Our table did well. We presented all of our dishes, although they weren't all wonderful. We did get complimented on our braised chicken leg and the seasoning of our pork, but our plating and use of additional color and seasoning needs work.  I'm figuring out that risk taking is a good thing and that once we get really comfortable in the kitchen things may go much smoother.

This past Sunday I earned 8 lab hours by prepping for and working the Brunch that is held every other weekend while class is in session. Yesterday was the first Brunch of the semester and it went off without a hitch.  I awoke to the alarm clock screaming at 5 am and by 6:05 AM was driving down the street, on my way to school. Could not be late.

When I arrived, a few minutes before 7 am, the entire kitchen and dining room were a buzz with activity and I quickly threw on my hat and apron, washed my hands and checked in with Chef. Soon three of my classmates showed up and I was immediately at ease, cutting board in front of me and knife in hand, Dayna and Laura sharing the prep table with me.

All of the tasks were written out on two enormous white boards that are hung on the wall and I saw Chef  crossing tasks off as they were accomplished.  I was assigned to make the 'signature' Lemon Thyme Vinaigrette and Ranch Dressing. Then I cracked and emulsified 9 dozen eggs.  As I as cracking the eggs, two at a time, mind you, I was beginning to pity the poor soul who would be assigned to the omelet station.  You know how, at every brunch, there is a long line of guests waiting for their 'made to order' omelet, with anything and everything they want in it?  That was my worst nightmare. From the day I signed up to participate at the brunch I silently recited a little prayer..."Dear God, please, I am asking you, please do not put me on the omelet station. Thank you." 

As the morning wore on I tried to make myself relevant...I emptied trash cans, swept the floor, asked Chef what else I could do and tried to be as efficient as possible.  Soon Chef Ann was coming around with the assignments.  "What's your name?" she asked.  "Ginger," I answered.  "You are on omelets."  "Really?  Are you sure?"

Oh my gosh. Are you kidding me?  I honestly had to laugh at the irony.  There I was, cracking eggs for the sorry son of a gun who was going to make the omelets and all along, it was me.  Life is funny that way.

Later on Chef W. had me follow him out to the front and showed me how to make omelets using only the pan and lots of wrist action.  "You know why people love our omelets?" he asked.  Wisely I just looked at him.  "Butter. They love us because of the clarified butter."  Okay then.

I can report that it all went well, No burnt omelets, nothing brought back to me, no screaming or crying and the line was never out of control.  My life line was Jeff, a CP2 which means he has one more semester of experience than I do, although I don't think he had ever been on the omelet station. During the post-brunch meeting we did find out that three very large parties (20, 13 and 10), were all no-shows, so it could have been much busier.  And, one of the comment cards said "very fluffy omelets," and then entire group of students clapped and cheered.

I survived, learned a ton, and was reminded of why I love the food industry.