*Quality Versus Quantity

How often do you come across the decision to either pursue something worthwhile or something of lesser caliber? We all do it to some degree- material purchases, roaring through a drive through window for a meal, or declaring something “good enough for government work”. Our actions and our decisions all create a butterfly effect we agree to accept as a conditional consequence once we commit to them, for better, for worse, or for relatively little change.

I’ve been learning about scary things in school lately. Sanitation related issues. Toxins. Poisoning. Outbreaks. Worshipping the porcelain god. How to kill someone with a peanut. Fun stuff. It aint all hairnets and sneeze shields at the salad bar, folks. Its so much deeper than that. When you realize what goes on behind the swinging door, you gain a whole new appreciation for the ongoing battle to keep a diner safe from things you can and sometimes cannot control, all of it pretty much invisible to the naked eye.

I have come from an industry that has a zero tolerance policy for microorganisms. I figure the extremity of that environment gives me a pretty good working knowledge of both Bad Shit and What Not To Do. Not an expert by any means, but I know what one eensy bit of bacteria can do to a person- seen it too many times, spent many a long night cutting away at people, washing them out, trying to make them better. Can you imagine that mindset as I am educated about kitchen pathogens? Gadzooks, I could go on for days. Suffice to say, if I took every precaution I was taught to take in medicine, I’d be completely paralyzed in the kitchen. An apron I wipe my hands on all the time, a side towel that hangs at waist level and hits everything I pass, my splattered white chef jacket… I get shivers every time I think too much about the kind of shit I have living on me after just five minutes in a kitchen.

Speed and accuracy in production are two ends of the spectrum that must be approximated to create light. That light is a high quality dish, made safely, and one that tastes outta this world.  We are learning, little by little, how to pull these concepts closer to the center of our abilities every day. One chef yells out, “You have three minutes!!!” while the other one stops you dead in your tracks, points out something that grinds your momentum to a halt, and you have to manage the issue properly, still complete your task and keep an eye on the clock. I totally get off on it, actually, and my surgical training comes in handy. Ask any surgeon I have enver annoyed by being able to tapdance, sing, hand over instruments and hold three different conversations at the same time, but not look away from the field when something crashes to the floor behind me.

I’ve had a lot of time to watch other people while waiting my turn at something during class. I’ve seen someone sharpen their knife, wipe the metal filings off on their pant leg instead of walking two steps to the sink for a rinse and paper towel wipe. That filthy knife went back into a blade protector and back in their case for usage in class. Fingers snatching a taste of food instead of a spoon. A lot less handwashing than I like. Oh, and really fucking disgusting scum layers on the walls of the sanitizer sink, believe it or not. Anyone with OCD would have a cardiac event. I have to keep telling myself that I really DON’T need to autoclave my home kitchen, and that other countries aren’t as far ahead in sanitation as we are, and that nobody has been sickened at school as far as anyone knows. It could keep me up at night, but I’ve seen worse, and eaten it, too, knowingly, and come out on top. It comes down to that agreement to accept consequences of an action- yours or someone else’s.

We had our first test yesterday. Knife skills. Its the backbone of every cook’s being. It helps to have used a knife before, and I have definitely used mine a good deal since it came home with me about eight years ago. We all, no matter our comfort or lack thereof with using our knives, lost sleep over this specific practical because it shows what we are made of. I looked at it like this- We have a goal to accomplish with reasonable accuracy in an allotted time. I know my hands have not developed the memory yet to pull off cuts with my eyes closed, so I could either cut well or cut fast. I hope that any of you reading this would know enough about me to figure out how that one shook out.

Suffice to say, I walked from my work station with my head up and my dignity intact. I made the decision I could live with, the one truest to my nature and loyal to my professional upbringing. What motivated me was something I heard years ago at a hospital orientation meeting exercise. We were split into groups and given tasks. Our group’s motto for our teamwork’s philosophy was, “We get it done fast.”. We thought we were hot shit until a slower, more eggheaded team proclaimed their motto, “We get it done RIGHT.”. Ever since that day, it has subconsciously bugged the crap out of me how I was in the wrong group because of what I had thought was the only way to get something done. I learned there was another way, and I have been trying to balance that ever since. Hopefully it said enough about me as a person, as a student and as a future professional when I put my knife down and left my work for evaluation. May I always conduct myself in this manner as long as I live…

The School Update

Well, after two hellish weeks off that were about 7 days too long, getting back into the groove was a very welcomed thing, if not complicated by the loss of a week of core curriculum due to snow and only one third of the class actually showing up. I still did some homework in between naps and being turned into a human sled by the dog pulling me on my face into snowdrifts. I was happy to get back to it, if not a little stressed at the backlog of serious content we were missing in class. I did all my assigned work due for the period, and found out that not everyone had their shit together after two weeks off like I did. Guess who handed out her recipe cards to fellow classmates for kitchen time come Monday? Yup. If dealer took a portion of the winnings, I’d have made a bundle. Call me a conceited asshole, but seeing my Pepto-Bismol Pink recipe cards all over the kitchen made me feel pretty damned good. Enuff said.

Knife skills were a colossal pain in the ass. If I ever smell a potato in my kitchen again, I am going to either snap like a tower sniper or hurl my guts out. After my test, I had to hot foot it to work for a meeting. I smelled like a wet burlap sack of dirty Russets. I offended myself as well as my boss, as she was sitting close to me doing my evaluation. Anyway… I practiced, learned what a dull knife looks like and how it alters the ability to cut straight, and I swore a whole truck driver’s bible in the process. It was downright ugly one afternoon at home, to the point where I told Brian I needed to not speak to anyone, and I walked the terrified dog until one of her legs fell off later that afternoon.

You ask, “Okay, so what was the big, fat, hairy deal?”. Here it is: Perfect cubes of 1/8″, 1/4″, 1/2″ & 3/4″ spuds. Perfect rectangles of 1/8″ X 2″ and 1/4″ by 2 1/2″. Adorable little cuts called Paysanne- 1/2″ X 1/2″ X 1/8″ flat rectangles. And a sadistic volume of each one, too.  If I get time, I’ll post a photo of it all so you get the idea of what hell on Earth it was. Supposedly, it gets easier until they plop a bucket in front of you and say, “Fill this in under five minutes, STARTINGNOW!”.

I meditated for a moment, took my test and when time was up, I had completed only six of the seven cuts required. I left the one I knew I could do the most accurately and quickly for last, and I was prepared to take my lumps with for them being absent from my submission. Did I kick myself a little for turning in an incomplete piece of work? Certainly. Don’t get me wrong- nobody likes to be the one missing a shoelace on a group hike, but I had to live with that privately and keep a poker face. Grades came back and I had the second highest score, only because I had not completed the exam. Had I done so, I’d have been at the top. I congratulated the guy next to me who topped us all, we chuckled with happiness that it was over, and we moved on.

What did I learn besides brunoise, julienne, paysanne, batonet, dice and how to sharpen my knife? How I choose to commit to putting out a quality product, and do it with pride , even if it looks like I have braided my own hair to make shoelaces for that hike. I have announced the presence of my integrity at school, I suppose.

Monday will roll around and I will have the last of two mid-terms. Practical cooking in the kitchen under sreious scrutiny, and then my written test. I will then move on to Cooking 120 with a new chef in the classroom, more advanced skills, more complicated production and fabrication of meats. I am looking forward to the challenges, believe me.