*Final Stretch

I survived.

I am pleased.

The demo kitchen month passed into history and all involved went home happy. Diners, staff, students- each brain and belly was adequately satisfied and we closed that chapter of our education.

Some of us were born to cook on the line and excelled at it. It was alleged, but never actually visually confirmed that at least one of the team members was completely physically aroused when a tour bus of 30 retirees pulled up on a busy night, needing service all at the same time. Lets just say that this person loves being in the thick of the shit, as it is called, and he rocked it like a champ. Some of us had a hard time with running the wheel, or calling out and managing orders as they came in and went out. A few “dropped” calls (orders not called out due to miscounting) happened here and there (Me, one in two days. The Other Guy- FIVE in one shift). At the end of the night when we all met up for the postmortem with Chef Saran Wrap, he would just sit there and declare, “I’ve got no complaints, Man! Would you screw up so I can say something??”. We did our damndest to never leave him with a reason to doubt us, and we really pulled it off. We really had our shit together. Consistently.

Our best compliment came by way of this statement: “I know that when a group is this good, like you guys are, I am SO gonna pay for it later on.” Not to be snickering in my coffee here, but suffice to say, Chef Saran Wrap is suffering mightily at the moment. Some of us on the team feel awful about his current struggle, as the band of students are the other half of our class and a few others we are unfamiliar with. We worked side by side with them for months, we know them, know how they tick, and its just painful. I liken it to a bunch of racehorses at a starting gate- when the gates open, one is running the opposite way around the track, one is grazing on the lawn in the middle, one is rolling in the dust for fun, one has bucked off its rider and is still bucking in circles, one is just standing in the middle of the lane, leaning with its tail skyward, peeing all over the ground… Get the picture?

At the last night’s decompression session, we all shared our thoughts on how it went overall. I confessed to my chef as truthfully as I could that I loved and hated every minute of line cooking, and that I was very grateful for having him at my side to guide me through it. I spoke of my acceptance of the fact that its alright to never want to be on the line, and he concurred. There are far more things I can do with food and cooking than being on the line, and even prep cooking is a noble pursuit if I decide to stay in a restaurant kitchen (wouldn’t hate that, actually). I told him that my skill had severely increased, I was pleased with what I had learned, and I felt far more competent than I had felt on day one, back in December. I called it a success. (Shit, I was really just happy to not have to be pulling 13 hour days in the kitchen anymore- my back is still a little pissed at me, but its improving.)

Its on to Pro Skills where we learn about being in the restaurant business and not going broke. Granted, the pace after the frantic energy level of the previous 4 weeks was a welcomed change, but we welcomed it too hard that first afternoon with Lovely Chef Max… We found out who actually drools, who sucks their thumb and who can sleep with their eyes open. That first day was rough, but Max lovingly understood and I think she forgave us. We got into the groove a little more, and the sheer terror of the algebra alone kept me awake not only in class, but at home in my own bed as well. My hissyfit before my first quiz was halted dead in its progression into the deepest reaches of catatonia by a nice, well- meaning slap to the cheek by Max. That shit really does work, not just in movies! But I digress…

School Update

Pro Skills is the first part of my school day- its where Chef Saran Wrap polishes up the students and tests their mettle, their creativity and their palates before shooing them out the door to their externship. Once a week we have a “black box” day, where we are given a protein to research the night before,  we view a cart of ingredients for 15 minutes, get to request up to three ingredients and we have at it. Something I totally love to do, coincidentally. I challenged the chef yesterday to being able to pull off a kick-ass plate with only one extra ingredient and I did just that. Rustling up a Papaya from thin air, I got to plate up an impressive Jerk Pork Tenderloin with Papaya Salsa, Black Beans and Meyers Rum Pan Sauce. I was astounded at his fascination with my black beans… simple Venezuelan food of my childhood- beans, garlic, onion, red bell pepper, cumin. He kept digging in, halting, commenting positively, digging in, pondering… It was a compliment I do not take lightly. The Jerk Spice On The Fly (no recipe, just from my memory) was a hit. He helped me make my salsa better than ever, and it was pretty damned satisfying. I finally got to show him what I am made of, for real.

Whats Next?

Well, its hard to fathom, but school is over in two weeks. FUCK ME! TWO WEEKS!! I can NOT believe it! Part of me is so ready to move on and get working. Part of me will miss the environment, the instructors, the classmates. Emotionally, I am a little uneasy, as this is the first time I have ever been near people who exist just for food, like I do. When one of us is hungry, there is always food- its like finding the sweet spot on Maslow’s Pyramid and never wanting to leave it. Granted, my enlarging ass and waistline need a break from all the absolute CRAP I have been shoveling down (No disrespect meant towards the baking and pastry classes, but they are EVIL!).  Still, there is so much learning to be done, so many things I still have to improve within my skill set (pan sauce syrup anyone?), that I wish I could just hang out all summer on my own time and kick it with the other students and play around a little more.

Once school lets out, we party like rock stars, all together one last time in the kitchen and in the dining room. We all come together to make ourselves lunch with whatever is left on hand and we toast ourselves, our instructors, our futures. I head down to southern Oregon to The Willows to start the first chapter in Permanent Migration and old fashioned Journeyman cooking, with a very patient and supportive Brian (and Ellie) in tow. After we ride out the experience, we will head off to somewhere warm and fertile, then I will begin school again, joining the ranks of Evil Pastry Makers and Bakers to round out my education. I have started the process of looking into a college in Napa Valley. I sent my transcripts down a few weeks ago, and the admissions folks will have a looksee. I don’t expect to hear back while they are on summer break.

So, Its back to “Holy hell, we gotta pack!” and “Man, we got too much shit!”. Still don’t know if we are going to live on premises at The Willows or not, but if we don’t hear from them by mid-week, we are heading down to secure a rental. I have a ton of homework to do this weekend, as well as packing/tossing/weeding of stuff. Some folks will be out camping, beaching or hiking. I will be wading up to my ears in STUFF. Some day, I swear, its gonna just be a backpack, a knife roll and my Netbook…