*Ain’t No Cicero

Some people are born orators.

They can move and stir a crowd in the most passionate of ways, inspiring masses and assuring themselves devoted fans.

Then there is me.

As if all my antics in school were not enough to warn the Powers That Be that I am best left in a broom closet with duct tape over my mouth at any public function, I got tapped to give a student speech at graduation (See parts of it here).

Okay, so about a hundred grads, five of their friends and family, about 40 staff members- you do the math. For a chick that can toss around a room of surgeons and residents like rag dolls, I turn into a total weenie at a podium. Its a little intimidating to say the least, and thankfully some of my instructors were as nervous as I was about giving a speech- Just ask the chef that got punked. The drycleaning bill for his shorts is probably hanging in a frame in Eric’s office as a touching memento of the prank.

Brian and I worked and reworked this speech. My father in law coached me as best he could on delivery technique (what a guy!!!). I was just fortunate to not get thrown out of the car at a rest stop in Wyoming after too many hours on the netbook, trying out my material on the captive audience.

I followed a very lovely, and yes- moving, speech by Chef W in which he quoted some very true words that I have had the fortune to live by. Hopefully he will not mind, but here is what got me right in the old ticker…

“Masters in the art of living

Make little distinction between

Their work and their play,

Their labor and their leisure,

Their body and their mind.

Masters in the art of living

Make little distinction between

Their education and their recreation,

Their love and their religion.

They simply choose to pursue

Their own vision of excellence in

Everything they do.

Leaving others to decide if

They are working or playing.

To them, they are always doing both.”

…aaaaand then there was my speech…

Rather than take the traditional approach, I based my speech on what I was taught to do in school- cook and drink wine. Well, I did a little roasting and a little toasting. As this was a family function that was prepared for the warm, fuzzy side of the typical graduation speech, I  held back the more savory bits but told it like it was. If this past year in school did anything for me, it was to release the inner beast, my happier, more raucous side, and to not be ashamed of it- THAT is tuition well repaid.

With far less elegance, panache and thoughtfulness in introduction that I was showered with by Eric at the podium,  I bring you my commencement speech from the OCI 2009 graduating class. Hang on for dear life.

I got a call last week

and when I heard the voice

on the other end of the phone,

I just knew it.

I was gonna get Wilke-ed

When Chef Wilke asks you

if you’d like to

“take him up on an opportunity”

you always go for it,

but you know

you are about to

take five years off your life.

Sure enough,

I drove 2500 miles to be here today

and I found a new crop

of gray hairs this morning.

Well, like a good student,

I actually Googled

“How to write a graduation speech.”

(Hold up paper)

I found out

that I wasn’t supposed to

talk about myself,

be indecent

or swear.

It also said to write what I know.

(Crumple paper, toss into the crowd)

Suffice to say,

this is NOT

your father’s culinary school,

and all rules are off.

There’s no denying

that cooking has become

such a huge part

of today’s media culture.

In this day and age,

its hard to NOT imagine

a culinary environment

being full of televison drama.

I’m not going to shock the hell out of you,

but I WILL tell you

what it was like

to be a student at OCI.

Our speech was NOT censored,

although mine should have been…

There was a LITTLE

extreme critter consumption going on

every once in a while…

but I swear,

it was NEVER in the restaurant!

Nobody got Water-Bourdained,

our instructors didn’t wield pitchforks,

and just about none of us were told

to please pack our knives and go.

And, ABSOLUTELY,

animals WERE harmed

in the process of making this graduating class.

As an observer of life

AND a student,

I spent time eavesdropping on the chefs.

I was curious to know

what made the school tick as well as it does.

I figured out

that the tone of our education

was set by our chefs.

They didn’t teach us so much as how to cook,

but how to be in the business of making people happy.

I don’t know what most of you out there DO,

but as a recovering nurse,

I never ONCE

walked into my hospital,

inhaled deeply

and said,

“Oh my GOD, that smells AMAZING!”

And I never saw people queued around the block

for the surgeon’s special of the day,

so

what does THAT tell you?

That tells ME

that its about ATTITUDE,

as WELL as technique.

Attitude, I discovered, comes in many forms at OCI,

like Chef Hammer baking cookies

in a totally bitchin pink cape.

or hearing Chef Vidya singing

“Do You Really Want To Hurt Me?”

to the T1 students.

Its definitely NOT technique

when Chef Brophy goads someone

into taking

the entire fat cap from a beef rack,

cutting a smiley face out of it

and wearing it as a Meat Mask

for extra credit.

Finding out that you chant

Chef Blythe’s mantra

“Work clean, small, small, clean”

in your sleep…?

I consider that

subconscious attitude.

The smirking face

of Chef Haldeman

looming over your shoulder

on egg killing day?

Oh, attitude big time.

Chef Casady,

also known as “The Goddess”,

brought it DAILY

with Can-Do attitude

and her fear of absolutley NO ingredient.

Seeing Chef Max

Karate chop boards in half

with her bare hands?

Excellent technique for sure,

and a little bitta ‘ “Brooklyn”.

The embodiment of Attitude?

Chef RAMONA, hands down.

Getting HER to blush and lose her composure?

Near impossible…

and just for the record,

I want a medal for actually pulling it off.

Even with the flock

of Math Impaired students

hoping to touch the hem

of his chef’s garment,

Chef Hobson keeps it real.

I guess what I am trying to say

is that a perfectly executed Hollandaise

don’t mean JACK

without the soul to back it up…

Student life on campus was a good deal of fun.

T3 students and grads would bribe the T2 students

for the exact date

of Sandwich Day.

If you’ve never

seen a swarm of locusts in action before,

c’mon down,

take cover

and stay the hell outta the way.

The baking and pastry classroom

shared a common wall

with the T1 kitchen.

I felt pretty bad for the baking students,

because it was a lot like having

a frat house next to a convent.

A little horse trading went on

between the baking and culinary students

at the end of the night.

I’m not sure what it is now,

but when I was in T2,

the street value of a rack of lamb

was roughly a half a cheesecake.

Occasionally,

things would go horribly awry in the culinary kitchens.

When times were tough,

the baking and pastry  crew

shared THEIR dinner with US…

They SO rock.

We know it.

(Pause, change gears)

And we got serious, too…

We put in extra hours

to fill

a lot of empty bellies

through Potluck In The Park.

If Tony asked for hands at dinner,

we stepped up

and made it happen.

We all obeyed the golden rule-

Thats the one

where everybody jumps in to help

if someone drops their Mise en place

or is “in the weeds”.

There was a lot of experimenting on you,

our friends and families…

We assume

your presence here today

means you’ve forgiven us.

We really did

everything we could

to NEVER, EVER

give our chefs a reason to complain

at the end of the night.

When Chef Wilke asked us to challenge ourselves,

we could have said no…

but we didn’t,

even during finals week.

I’m gonna wrap this up by saying

that the entire staff here,

chefs and office crew alike,

are TOTALLY into what they do.

Nobody ever just

“Phones It In”.

If you stand back and watch them

every Monday morning,

they TOTALLY greet each other

like long lost relatives.

They LOVE to be here

and it SHOWS.

I was,

and always will be,

impressed

at how their energy

rubs off on a person…

I mean, SERIOUSLY-

If my HIGH SCHOOL teachers

were HALF as hip

as THESE people,

I’d NEVER

have spent four years

doin’ hard time in detention.

I’ll end this

with a quote

by an unknown

yet very wise

culinary philosopher

who expressed

the spirit and motivation

that every chef should have

in their hearts

and minds:

“Cook food that’ll getcha laid.”

Thank you very much.