Herb of Your Choice

All characters and interests are drawn to a culinary school. Today never proved to be more true. One of my out of kitchen classes is Interpersonal Communication and in such a class we were instructed to give public speeches on anything that sparks our interest as long as it has to do with food. Each student, whether full of confidence or terror, approaches the front of the room to immerse the class into all the different possibilities this field offers. I, myself, spoke on food writing. Other topics included fermentation, sustainability, economic commerce, environmentally concious design, coffee, and many more. My favorite, however, could not be topped.

A young man in his mid to late twenties swaggered up to the front of the class with a box clutched to his chest. He had an arrogant smile played on his face as he introduced his topic. It was interesting, I do admit. This "tool" could specialty bought for several hundred dollars, or you can make it yourself for about $300. He explained that by taking a common found power tool (I couldn't tell you if my life depended on it) and a few simple attachments you could make a vaporizer. In this vaporizer, he explained, you could put your "herb of choice" into the attachment- a beautiful ironic foreshadowing- and as the tool runs it is then vaporized into thin air and captured into a second attachment that included a plastic bag and a valve.

I had seen ideas of this done before to where a scent was captured into a plastic pillow under a heavy plate in molecular gastronomic restaurants and punctured by a waiter to waft up to the customer's nose, capturing his palate before he even touched his food. Beautiful idea, taken very, very wrong.

As this young man ground up cinnamon in his "vaporizer" and captured it in the bag, his audience-captured and stunned- asked to smell the "cinnamon air". His grin got broader, knowing his presentation was a hit, and informed that chef would get the first puff of "cinnamon air" With a pump to the valve, visible vapor dispersed into the air all around chef's head. He then proceeded to give the rest of the class the pleasure of the oh-so-awaited vaporized cinnamon.

The smell was not that of cinnamon. It was blatantly, without question, marijuana.

Chef ended the session with the closing statement: "When I was younger, we had bongs."

In the Weeds

Comming to the CIA, I've heard this "in the weeds" infamously whispered through its walls without the pleasure of experiencing such a place. Luckily this experience happened in several days through the course of my educational career.

The first day "in the weeds" was about my fourth day in skills 3. It was sauteed chicken with fines herbs sauce (a splendid dish that is very popular among the students in the culinary). We were doing a flawless job with prep, however...the a la minute (at the last moment) of firing the dish where we put the beautifully seared chicken in the over to finish we met disaster. Communication struggled and chicken was not put in the oven putting our plate's main protein on a standby. This is where I got my first addicting taste of the hot line. I was thrown on the hot line, away from plating, to finish the sauce (made from the fond of the pan, white wine, glace de volaille, and heavy cream). I, quite literally, had two saute pans (one in each hand) swirling on the stove top to deglaze the bottom. In the end, we got every single plate out the door- to some, not exactly happy, customers. However, the adrenaline rush was still fresh and exuberant in my blood stream.

Several more, not so wonderful, weedy experiences have happened since but today, today the weeds called for a casualty. This time I was in Cuisines of the Americas and where we once had 2 groups on 1 dish, we have 1 group working on one dish, and before we had 4 bodies to a group, we are lucky to have 3. Our dish today was shrimp etouffee, white rice, green beans, and stuffed mirliton. The amount of prep we had was enough to intimidate most. At demo, 30 minutes before service, chef tastes our etouffee to explain to us that the dish is inedible (too much white pepper, a seasoning I find revolting in taste and smell and think should never be used in a product that will be anywhere near humans) and the only way to correct this is to completely remake the etoufee. The shrimp etoufee takes 30 minutes to cook, without prep. As we dash to gather ingredients and cutting boards, my mind divides the work, and I grab the bell peppers to make the oh-so-loved holy trinity. To mince 2 pounds of bell peppers is something I find difficult but necessary and start-pardon my French- hauling ass like I've never hauled before. In this infestation of weeds I feel a all-to-familiar pressure on my left middle finger, swear quite loudly, and run to the paper towels. I wrap my finger, apply pressure, and inform the chef I need to go to the nurse all before the pain sets in (on the bright side, it was a good sign my knife was sharp). In the nurses' office I discovered several things. The CIA has toughened my skin so much that I did not cry (about passed out as I watched the mixture of blood and hydrogen peroxide foam over my hand). After I was wrapped up I returned to finish the hectic prep work and we open on time.

Today's shinning moment, however, was in the middle of lecture I looked down at my right hand and was proud to notice that a callus was forming on the palm of my hand in between my thumb and pointer finger. An accomplishment I have been waiting for ever since a chef I worked with back at home told me it was a mark of a serious chef.

First Day of Skills 3

Today was my first day in a production kitchen- to work service. My nerves were insane but the excitement was incomparable. Mainly today I was running around concerned about time. I was convinced that we were going to be horribly late and fail for today. If you can't tell, my last chef didn't exactly inspire confidence.

However, it was actually a very simplistic day. Tomorrow it will ramp up. Today we were broke into 4-5 teams. The reason I give an estimate is because stoves separated the class room, hindering my view of the other side. It was like two separate kitchens; I couldn't see what was happening on the other side at all. Each team was responsible for making 20 portions of chicken (10 chickens), 20 portions of mashed potatoes, 20 portions of broccoli, and 20 portions of glazed carrots. Four items: four people per team- its easy math. We were a little late getting to family meal (every one in the class eats a shared combination of the two plates prepared) but were right on time for service- which flowed beautifully.

Tomorrow we will be responsible for making 20 portions of roast beef, 20 portions of "twice-baked potatoes", 20 portions of jardinere vegetables, 1 quart of vinaigrette, a salad, and 1 gallon of french onion soup. Also each team gets a specific task. My team will cover making croutons for the french onion soup (an entire baguette). Nerve racking.

I considerably respect this chef more. He, within 2 hours of watching us run around the kitchen, was able to know all our names (with our names covered on our coats) and distinguish between both Marks and both KateLynns (Katelyn). The entire class was impressed until he added, "Just as well as I have remembered your names, I will remember what you do." I panicked. Now everything I did following lecture I double checked; please God don't let Chef remember me for something stupid.

He probably did. When a friend of mine pulled our chickens out minutes after I just checked them I apparently had a little too much snap in my voice (I'm very bossy in the kitchen I discovered). Chef, out of no where mind you, pats me on the shoulder telling me to calm down. I am sure my face was bright red as I said "yes chef". Possibly tomorrow I could be remembered for something better.

Wednesday 04 November 2009

Where do I even begin? About 2 weeks ago I started Skills 2 (which is really skills 1 continued- same class, same room, same chef). Each day we built upon the next day until we finally started making our own meals- but the trip to that day was an adventure.

The days that mainly stand out to me were fresh pasta day, rice day, and egg day. Fresh pasta day, I wish I could have brought my camera for the blog. The simplicity of the art and the ease of it astounded me- more people should make fresh pasta. The dough is simple enough to remember: 1 pound of pasta you want: 1 pound of flour you use: 9-10oz of liquid (what ever liquid that may be!). For example a classic ratio for 5 pounds of fresh pasta would be: 5 pounds of flour: 25 oz of whole eggs (roughly 14 eggs): 25 oz of water. Now of course no one at home would ever use a recipe so huge but hey 5 is a relatively easy number for me in math- so take it or leave it. Then the best things in life I realize are made with your hands (remember this for later on in the blog). With memories of play dough everyone started mixing and kneading the pasta dough until tough and smooth. After the dough rests for a gracious time it is rolled or cut into what ever shape you please. For different colors you can add steamed spinach to the beginning dough, tomato paste, anything. In fact as the dough was rolled thinner and thinner chef folded a simple basil leave into the dough, rolled it thin again, and cut his pasta in a beautiful circle, having the basil leaf be off center and cut off. It reminded me of the age and grace of fossils but its delicacy was visible.

Rice day was full of the pilaf method and risotto. Now by some amazing grace, my pilaf came out perfect and as fluffy as can be. My risotto, although the taste creamy and deeply rich like most risottos, came out a little over done. Risotto is suppose to be al dente. This term I want to use lightly because it seems like any Average Joe with a webcam who considers themselves experienced in the food world use "al dente" to describe salad. This is wrong. Al dente means "not done" or "with a bite" and applies to food that are delicious with a bit of chew (not a crunch!) when eating. Risotto and pasta are most famous for being "al dente". In fact, "al dente" is not even properly used with risotto; risotto has its own word that means "al dente" it is "al onda".

Egg day...the "D" days of all days. You must understand my fear with eggs. Ever since I was a little girl, I've preferred my eggs mutilated, browned to a crisp, ruined. I think it tastes good. The very thought of wet eggs puts a horrible cringe in my body. I remember the day I was forced to try a poached egg for eggs Benedict. I filled my water class to the brim, ready to chug it down, but after the first bite I needed no use for it. It was delicious and I fell in love with sunny side up and eggs over easy. That was fear one: I had to make wet scramble eggs for my grade. Fear two....to flip the egg. I make eggs over easy for myself at home all the time...with a spatula. Now these.....5? weeks my subconscious was watching, in envy, my more experienced class mates flip food in the pan, while I stirred with my wooden spoon. When no one was looking I'd give it a try and either accomplish nothing or spill food everywhere. Today....egg day....it was apart of my grade to flip one "single" over easy and one "double" (two eggs one pan) over easy. My terror of this was unspeakable. My first fear- wet scrambled eggs- was a cheat. I saw chef was not eating any of our product today so I decided to give my eggs a little longer in the pan. However, if we didn't flip our daily grade was gone. So as I stand in front of my burner (more to the side because a shorter girl had the front) with two hands gripping the handle as my little egg waiting in the pan. I swear it was a movie moment- too obnoxious for anyone to see- but definitely cinema worthy. I jiggled the pan to see if my egg moved, and it swirled around nicely. Next, with two hands I grip the handle of the pan, move my egg to the side, and give it a forceful push. Now... when I mean forceful...I could have been a bit more gentle. You see later on that day when I successfully flipped my double eggs over easy I only screamed because of silly fear and fear alone. But this scream that should not have escaped my lips was because my egg over easy flew a good 6 inches in the air before giving a satisfying slap onto my pan and surprisingly no broken yolk. That day I ate 7 eggs, and threw out a good 5. I still haven't been able to enjoy a good breakfast since.

As skills progresses on we make our selves full meals and the class gets a little tougher, but no meal was ever as delicious as yesterdays. Yesterday we made sauteed trout meuniere with a lemon brown butter sauce, wild rice pilaf, roasted Brussels sprouts, and glazed carrots. The meal in whole made me realize how cooking really means attention to detail. I left my trout in the pan, despite all instinct to flip it, to achieve perfect crisp brown sides and a moist flesh inside. My wild rice pilaf was removed from any access liquid to reduce, then poured back in for a more intense flavor, the Brussels sprouts roasted until brown coated in bacon and butter, the carrots perfectly cooked and still warm with a sweet chicken glaze poured on top, and a hot sizzling browned butter with lemon squeezed in for a frothy, tart, perfection. It was easily the best meal I have enjoyed here at the CIA, and my ability to identify how to improve it while I was eating, gave me satisfaction of growth.

Thursday October 15 2009

The kitchen is hauntingly quiet. I have been in skills for 13 days and I have never heard such silent in a production kitchen, just the quiet pawing of the knives on our cutting boards. It was our knife practical and we had an hour to make 18 different cuts- perfectly. In this hour we needed to julienne (1/8 inches x 1/8 inches x 2 inches) onion, small dice (1/4 inches x 1/4 inches x 1/4 inches) onion, mince (fine confetti) onion, mince garlic, mince shallots, mince parsley, concasse (peeled, seeded, and chopped) tomato, fine julienne (1/16 inches x 1/16 inches x 2 inches) potatoes, fine bruniose (1/16 inches x 1/16 inches x 1/16 inches) potatoes, julienne potatoes, bruniose (1/8 inches x 1/8 inches x 1/8 inches) potatoes, small dice potatoes, small batonnet (1/4 inches x 1/4 inches x 2 inches) potatoes, medium dice (1/2 inches x 1/2 inches x 1/2 inches) potatoes, batonnet (1/2 inches x 1/2 inches x 2 inches) potatoes, large dice potatoes (2/3 inches x 2/3 inches x 2/3 inches) potatoes, paysanne (1/2 inches x 1/2 inches x 1/16 inches-a tile shaped cut) potatoes, and finally the farmere (spelling is unknown here but I blame it on my chef's thick Swedish accent) cut for potatoes (a triangular cut that reminds myself of the superman logo). This all had to be done before 9:15.

Lets rewind to a few days ago. The difference is drastic. It is emulsion day and we have 2 mayonnaise to make, 3 hollandaise, and 1 ber blanc. Now emulsion sauces have several things that can go wrong. If an emulsion sauce breaks, its not the end of the world, but it is sure damn inconvenient for your grade. Emulsion sauces can break if they become to cold. Easy right? Keept it warm! Wrong. Emulsion sauces can break if they become to hot. They can also break if you add your fat too slow, too fast. Add too much fat, add too little fat. Have too much moisture, too little moisture. Basically, watch the damn sauce! Also, emulsion sauces happen rather quickly, you must be your best and you cannot stop whisking vigorously. Class had pots and pans
on and off the stove. Orders are being shout and the banging of metal on metals sounded like a firing range I was convinced I would face when I brought my sauces up to chef.

Still going further in the past is puree soup day...and my soup is lentil soup. It is our first soup to bring up to chef and lately I've felt....incompetent in the kitchen. Being surrounded with people who have been in a real kitchen for 5 years and my kitchen experience is ...nothing when it comes to them can really make a girl feel terrified. I watched and mothered the sauce, making sure I did every step as chef demonstrated, and seasoned throughout the process. I wanted my soup to have something that no one elses' had and I hoped my seasoning could do that. However, as I tasted my soup the horrible daunting thing that could have possibly happened lay in my soup. Too much salt. I gazed into my soup in horror. How in the world could I fix this? I hung my head and brought my soup to the blender to puree. Due to some miracle I do not understand this was exactly what I needed. My soup was too bland now, but at least I could fix that. As I added salt, pepper, and lemon awaiting the punch proper seasoning provides....nothing happened. Nada. Zip. Students lined up for grades and I was still dumb founded. Finally, out of some God given miracle chef shouts "if anyone would like to add some butter to their soup, it is in the low boy!" I make a mad dash to the butter grab just enough to satisfy my wooden spoon and slowly stirred it into my creation. I grab my tasting spoons and bam! The exact taste I had been striving for lay in my pot. I plate quickly and run it up to chef. "Delicious" he says to me.

Remember when I told you about emulsion day? Well lets take it back to that day. In that wild, exotic, exciting mess of a day I managed to get a "Beautiful" ber blanc, not to break one hollandaise (in fact I was excused from making a 3rd he appreciated my two so much), and my only criticism for mayonnaise was the first one was too thin... Not one break...not a bad day.

Finally back to my knife practical. The week has been long and tiring. Every day I watched my self and my class improve. We started out being an hour and fifteen minutes late to get our projects done and then we were finishing fifteen minutes early with extra projects. I watched myself grow from being absolutely terrifying to owning my position in the kitchen. My soups and sauces improved immensely and my addiction for this atmosphere grow. Now this moment was silent and each student trying to prove themselves in this summary of a project, in this basic of basics. Everything must be perfect.

"Times Up!" My heart jumps and I am the first in line. His nobby finger, covered in scars most likely from burns and cuts from his years of experience, mill over my hard work. "Beautiful work, young lady, beautiful." I recieved a 97 today on my knife cuts and my heart has never been lighter.

Just for You

Friends and I have been sharing some pretty cool links back and forth on facebook and one friend wanted me to read a blog about blogging. It was actually a very cool page and convinced me to share some of my pictures with anyone who cares to read about my adventures. All of these pictures I took of the campus when I started, the mere beauty of the campus covers up my photography skills. Remember, I'm a writer not a photographer. I started in late summer so all the pictures are of summer, I'll try to take some now that the leaves are changing and throughout the season.

Tuesday 29 September 2009

Oh my, today...today was something. For the first time in my college career, my alarm clock decided not to go off. The day I have class at 7 with a brand new chef, my first day of skills. I wake up at 6:57.

Never have I ever gotten dressed so fast or muttered so many profanities as this morning. I arrived at class at 7:04 out of breath and mortified. I hate being late and the morning did not start off right.

Luckily we were given 2 breaks and 1 more lunch break. The first break gave me plenty of time to run back to my room to finish dressing and to grab my forgotten necessities, the second gave me plenty of time to catch up on breakfast, and by lunch I was certain that I was no longer behind. I might not have started skills off with the best bang but through my impression, it will not be a very demanding class.

I finished meat with a C, not my most prized grade but it is the best example of why not to miss even one day of class, it automatically drops your final grade down a letter grade, and am eagerly awaiting my fish grade, feeling pretty proud of my final. Monday, although a day off due to our regular 3 day weekends, I still went to the fish class for extra practice and enjoyed every minute of it.

Before I applied for the CIA my chefs kept emphasizing waiting until December to dodge my age group, freshly out of high school. I, foolishly, did not take their advice and now am witnessing why such a thing was suggested. Your class is your group, your team. I have never liked nor understood team work until starting a kitchen class with my class mates. In the kitchen it is impossible to have the "every man for himself attitude", the entire kitchen acts and breathes together. When one person fends for himself or lacks in many specific areas, the entire team hurts. While I've been witnessing many groups struggling with experience and maturity levels, everyone struggling to work together. I am so grateful for my luck. My group flows like a well oiled clock- a saying I take back for not ever having to deal with a non-oiled clock. My group works like music, in my mind. In our low points we have people who pull ahead, like a solo that hides the fact that the chorus isn't hitting the right key. We learn from each other and all have the same motivation. I was heartbroken to find out we will be split up after skills 2.

Wednesday 23 September 2009

The term "hump" day never meant more to me than today. I was informed as new college lingo that hump day referred to Wednesday, as the last day before it was the down hill slide of the week. Never before have I struggled so hard to try to make it over this hump before Thursday.

Meat finished all too soon last week with a deep regret it could not be an entire semester long. I sent an email to my chef thanking him and telling him how lucky I felt having be able to take his class. However, fish started mid-week and I had one of the CIA's finest jewels of a chef. Now due to all civility I cannot give the chef's name but inside these halls he is a legend....and one tough cookie.

My fear that I felt before meat returned and I made sure everything about my uniform was perfect on that Wednesday morning. I waited outside the room, with all of my eager classmate, half an hour early- not wanting to double cross such a chef. He, himself, was a half hour late and greeted us in the morning with a well-to-do "What the fuck are you standing around for? Put your shit away!"

The week progressed in a very, baptized by fire type way. In the case that actual confusion and help was wanted, chef would very calmly, kindly show you the right way, several times over if you just didn't get it. It was however when you argued, tried to make excuses, or just didn't listen to simple directions did you get yelled at. Chef was also a man who believe that even when you did your very best, produced everything perfectly, you did the bare minimum. He didn't expect anything less. While this sounds like a normal philosophy it meant that he did not baby you or compliment your work. If you butterflied a trout perfectly, he'd say nothing, if you didn't he'd criticize you, and if you fished for a compliment (pardon the pun) he'd call you out on it. I quickly learned that if Chef passed by me without correcting me, I was doing a pretty damn good job. This is another thing that I've noticed. I've never been pure in my speech, but my language has progressively been getting less lady like in the kitchen. I had to be reminded to watch my language talking to my father on the phone.

Being a woman in this field is definitely interesting compared to any other field. The culinary world is still the boys' playing field and you have to play by the boys' rules. Having a kitchen full of all my close friends is a relief, but them mostly being men (out of a class of 14 we only have 4 girls, myself included) I am quickly learning how to interact. I don't act like one of the guys, they don't like that. A woman is a woman is a woman. I still keep my femininity without falling behind. I can still cut fish and keep up with the boys without spitting and cursing. However, in most professions a smack on the ass or a "babe", "boo", or "sweetheart" can be suit for sexual harassment. In the kitchen: it means I've gained respect. The guys don't do this with the girls they see as slow or inefficient. They are gentleman and have not smacked my lower torso but when "Hey babe where is the salmon?!" is shouted I know it is at me and at no other woman in the kitchen. Its part of the team, and I kinda like it.

Today, Wednesday, was the toughest though. Today I had to watch, thank God not partake in, a lobster be killed. It was awful. I understand that all animals I work with were killed at one time and I am very thankful for the life that was given up to sustain mine, but there is something horrid about watching a living being die. There was no way to tell if the lobster was in pain, fear, or even knew it was coming, but the very feeling in the air felt forbidden. I understand that the profession I chose, this is common, but I sincerely hope I never have to do a thing. Whether or not you are a Christan, in every religion murder is a sin. In my belief, it doesn't matter how small the life is. Today I sinned, watching such a thing happen and not stopping it, nor repenting it. Today I must have taken the lives of 24 shellfish without even thinking about it, until seeing the lobster under the tip of the knife, with only a few seconds to live.

I only have 2 more days of fish and then I'm on to skills. School is still so fast paced I feel as though I'm always behind. I am excited for skills though and finally feel confident that I can handle what even someone throws at me.

Saturday September 12, 2009

This week has been an emotional doozy.

Tuesday I woke up at 5 in the morning to attend my first in-kitchen class. Meat Fabrication. As I pulled on the traditional uniform of the chef I humored myself by comparing my reflection in the mirror to Rocky. A chef uniform takes away any feminine shape or characteristics one might have. I jotted on some eye liner to remind myself that I was indeed a woman and not a famous boxer in the movies.

When I trudged up the slight slope under the still persistent moon, I was terrified. Horror stories are always told about chefs and their....volume, when you make the same mistakes, over and over. I was convinced I would make some horrid mistake and be told to leave on my first day. Also, classes are quite different at the CIA than in other universities. Instead of having so many classes on alternating days for...oh about an hour or 2 a day, you have one class, 3 weeks, 6 hours a day. I was dreading standing up in a freezing room for 6 hours knowing nothing about what I should do.

Nothing could be more different than my prediction. First of all, my chef calmly, persistently, and patiently taught me every cut I needed to make into my top blade of beef. As we moved on to something much more bigger, an entire beef shoulder, I felt empowered. I felt I could do anything, if I could break down this huge piece of meat, and I did quite successfully. After our 4 hours of hands on, chef called timed and clean up began. A sinking in my heart followed, I wanted to yell out at the chef, asking him to give me one more shoulder to practice yet, four hours could NOT have passed by. I pulled it together and helped the team-ironically all friends of mine- clean and hike our 5 flights of stairs to the lecture room for 2 hours of in-class teaching. I could not wipe the smile off of my face. Me and my class mates kept repeating about how much fun our first kitchen class was and how we looked forward to tomorrow.

Wednesday did not disappoint but my throat gave a familiar uncomfortable itch. Trying to kill the bugger before it got as bad as last time I went to the nurse to just be assured that I should gurgle with salt water (which I did) and wait it out. I woke up Thursday feeling worse and nothing at all like the first time I got sick. I was nauseous and week and passed on breakfast. In class I asked Chef to excuse me to the nurse when I was afraid I might faint. The nurse....told me the exact same thing and to lie down. I lie down for ten minutes, then return to class, determined not to miss class! Chef, kind man, asked if I was alright and that if I needed to take a day off I could. I assured chef I would rather be in class and if I felt weak again I would sit down. I cube my veal shank and slowly move about my day, still happy that I'm there. After class I make it back to the nurse to meet with the Nurse Practitioner. He runs me through all normal rountine that I have been before, and tests me for strep- for the 3rd time. It comes out negative-again. He writes a prescription and sends me on my way.

Now in the pharmacy I loose any professional control I had. My body has not deteriorated down to pain and exhaustion. I can barely talk and fever strikes my body into chills. I put in for my prescription and asks the woman if I can pay with a credit card over the phone (like most college students I have no money and resort to asking my parents for money). She says yes, I call my father for the card information, and sit down for a good 20 minutes waiting for a total of 6 pills. When my name is finally called, I can barely speak and they refuse to take a credit card over the phone. I start sobbing in store because of the combination of stress, pain, and anger. Luckily my mess made the pharmacy make an exception and I was on my way.

Friday I wake up, sicker than I have been all week, and loose any solid foods in my system. I collapse on my bed, text my class mates that I will not make it to class, and fall asleep until noon. Luckily again, Chef understands. I make an appointment to discuss how I can make up my hands on learning and I start on my homework friends have emailed to me. My symptoms are flu like, and nothing like what I had the first time.

Saturday I do nothing but sleep and drink. I call in sick for the food and wine festival I was so excited to work and ask a friend to fill in for me. I feel so much better today, I only have a stuffed up nose and annoying cough. Maybe tomorrow it will be gone and Monday I can enjoy my last few days of a class that has brought me the most joy.

September 04, 2009 Part 2

I have been waiting for this since I started the CIA, this inspiration.

One of the few classes you can transfer out of in the beginning is Writing, especially if you have an AP credit for the class. I do, and I can very easily get out of writing, or I could. For those of you who cannot tell, I love to write. I decided against transferring credits to remove myself from writing in my excitement to write, and as it happened the class was nothing what I expected. It was middle school English all over again. However we had a young thing, who looked about in her mid to late twenties, teach us one class as she was a student teacher. This hour class with an inexperienced teacher gave me exactly what I have been waiting for.

Everyone in the culinary field has seen the Pixar movie "Ratatouille", including myself. Though out this class I kept picturing the scene where the grim reaper-like critic tastes and writes about the prepared ratatouille. Our assignment was to take four ingredients (tomatoes, chocolate, olives, and cheese), taste them, then write about the experience of tasting them without using well known schema for the descriptions. I could feel my soul flourish as I did so, please let me share what I chicken scratched on my torn, tomato stained college ruled paper.

The tomatoes were in a class oblong jar of the beautiful colors yellow, green, and red, but you see these colors were not just colors. The yellow was color of the bright yellow tulips in spring, or the paint that elementary children use to paint a sun smiling down at a house and stick figured family. The green was the color of a bright vibrant lime, long scallion, or freshly mowed grass. The color alone promised the fresh taste and smell that comes from laying down in the back yard on a summer day. The red, oh the red, was the color of a beautiful woman's lips, or the color of a hand drawn valentine, or the cocktail dress the perfect hostess wears. It was a perfect red. Our young student teacher, about our age, informed us that she picked the tomatoes from a garden 2 hours before the class from a friend's garden. The taste did not disappoint this promise. As I bit into that bright tulip colored tomato it gushed onto my paper in which I was scratching down my observations. The taste was light and tingled on your tongue, like the sun would dance upon a running spring, and that red, beautifully red tomato was gentle and tasted like the air smells after it rains. The tomato tasted like music, light and young.

Chocolate was passed around, exuberantly. As perfect chocolate is the flavor was harsh and demanding and lingered in your mouth long after you swallowed. I thought myself clever as I jotted down "fruity" for a description until I noted the piece of chocolate I was nibbling on had blueberries hidden in its crisp bark. Its strength and bold quality reminded me of a harsh winter or a nobleman speaking Russian standing as tall and as straight as he could. It was majestic and addicting, it dominated. The mint chocolate pieces gave a very surprising effect however. It soothed the noble taste as does hot chocolate and memories of my mother and celebration came to me. In a treat we would go to the movies and my mother would always buy the chocolate-mint candies, flavoring her goodnight kisses. It brought me bubbly joy and a light heart.

The olives, as the dark chocolate, were bold and loud. Olives seem to fit right in with a loud German festival along with spicy sausages, tart sourkraut, and fizzy beer. As the beer familiarity tingled my tongue so did the image of wine, Italy, and night lights. Parties, drinking, flirting all swelled with the olives, bringing that risque excitement of jazz, martinis, and smooth talking gentleman wooing giggling women in dark corners out in its sour little depths, hidden in that sexy round shape that perfectly can be popped into a flirting mouth.

Cheese, oh cheese!, again was so contrasting. The creamy, smooth fat coated the mouth and enveloped the soul like a warm blanket, speaking in soft French promises. Eyes started drooping and the body felt as though it was floating in calm water listening to the glass like chimes underneath its waves. In this came another memory. The cheese was a pleasant smoked Gouda that reminded me of the sandwich cheeses that lay waiting in the top self of my father's refrigerator in our white, warm, quiet kitchen. Sunlight would penetrate the windows and white curtains reflecting off of the white walls and floors. As a little girl I would sneak slices of this cheese and nibble on a slice at a time to enjoy its complex, distinct flavor that was lost in a sandwich.

Back and forth I switched between the olives and the Gouda as my supply of snacks shrunk and the feeling of happiness filled my entire being. The combination of the exciting, loud olives and my comforting, soft cheese brought about both the feeling of trust, relaxation, and jitters. This simple combination supports how foods bring out the best in each other, feelings and memories that they cannot alone do. This combination is so delicate and special that it must be enjoyed. Next time you go out for a meal, or spend more than 30 minutes making a meal, take small bites and concentrate what the flavors do. They speak to you, bring back memories, and provide the most valued experience that we have lost to fast food.

September 04, 2009

I have some interesting days for you.

Wednesday I woke up to a glorious meal of 20 cheeses and at least 10 perfectly roasted nuts and seeds. While this sounds exquisite-mind you it was- I have a theory it was all an act. Friday (today) is finals, I believe it is a bribe. I, however, discovered my true love in life. Roquefort. If Brie and Blue cheese met and had one night of passion, Roquefort would be the child. It is indeed in the Blue-Veined Cheeses category but its creamy, smooth texture resembles the texture Brie is so prized for. The astringency of the blue in this cheese sends a delightful tart in the back of the cheeks, like a puckering feel with lemons, with the delicate combination of spice. My school text describes Roquefort as "raw sheep's milk, ivory cylinder with blue-green marbling, deep, fully, spicy, semi-soft, crumbly." I don't necessarily agree with the crumbles but everything else seems to be quite accurate. But as all would have it, Roquefort was on the test today and I couldn't remember the name. I can picture spellings you see without actually hearing the word so my poor answer resembled something like "Rofert".

Thursday was Grand Banquette day again, and oh how I love Grand Banquette. Again the old chapel that now serves as our cafeteria was lined with tables full of small plates of all the classes' masterpieces. The stage is full of baskets so artfully stacked with bread and outlined with the desserts, plated in such away you are almost tempted not to eat them....almost. My "gang" and I are getting the hang of Grand Banquette, you go early, swipe, set your bags and belongings down at an empty table and gather three plates at a time, each trip setting them down at your table. Then you have a .....25 course meal? It is delightful. Thursday my best plate was the clams cooked so plainly the pure taste of the shell fish was the focus, and this slowly smoked, roasted, then baked pork fajitas with a cilantro, lime, dill cream sauce. The simplicity of these foods brought out the skill rather than show. The dessert of the day was a pistachio cake filled with raspberry moose. I have a feeling my terminology is not correct for the pistachio "cake" was so delicate, so moist, so creamy I could pass it as moose itself. The combination of both pistachio and raspberry was delightful and tart. The dessert was so light and creamy I did not feel heavy at the end of my meal even though I must have eaten at every single table....I still have bread and tomato-basil cream cheese in a to-go-box in my little dorm fridge.

Friday is today and not close to over with, however I've already taken 2 finals, have one more on the way, and one midterm. At first I was shaky about the 3 week turn over spill, I thought it would be too much for me too fast. However I am beginning to like it. Because you have very little time to cram a bunch of information you do not have "busy" work and you don't have time to procrastinate. I am notorious for procrastinating....at procrastinating. However, when you have a test every 2 days and a final every 3 weeks- you don't have time to put off studying. You have to study or- pardon my French- your screwed.

Eating today was almost as enjoyable as Grand Banquette. I finally found something at breakfast that astounded me. Today a friend convinced me to order a chrizo breakfast burrito and it was incredibly delicious, I went back to K-16 to tell them so. It was mildly spicy and wonderfully salty. The flavors combined together in a wonderful way. Lunch was just as intriguing. I went to the Americas Kitchen and talked to the chef, who influenced my choice. Salad and soup was consistent for everyone in Americas. Salad was a simple, tomato vinaigrette. It was spicy and sour and did not coat the palate, it was light and a perfect introduction to a meal. The soup was the exact opposite, a nice balance with the salad. It was a cream soup of some sort, reminded me heavily of cream of potato, I wish I could give more specifics. Now the meal, the meal was something else. I ordered goat. I've never had goat, nor knew it was an edible creature. The goat was braised and reminded me in the first bite of pork but later resembled more of a roast beef flavor, it was wonderful. The sauce was a thick, tart tomato base. The plate was accompanied with green olives, pearl onions (that must have been pickled), and cherry tomatoes. The entire plate really played with the "pain" we really enjoy. The tartness of the pickling vegetables and the naturally sour tomatoes really prickled your mouth in a refreshing, addicting way. The long spear shaped potatoes (that very easily could have been yuka, thank you product knowledge!) were sprinkled with red pepper and offered no mercy for the plate. It was wonderful and encourages me to order more and more plates that I am hesitant about in the future.

Sunday August 30

This daily thing is just not working out. Weekly? Too long in between. I'll update when anything besides myself describing the day in class happens.

As it happens I forgot to post several days ago about Michael Ruhlman came to speak at the CIA.

Comming to the CIA I, like many students, thought they had a leg up. I, like many other students, did not know what they were getting into. I came to the CIA as blind as could possibly be, but I take pride in this. It means I can absorb new information without any old interfering. However, coming into a Culinary School and not knowing who Julia Child is is a much more drastic thing than I ever could have imagined. Michael Ruhlman is the same blank name to me, was until I heard the man speak.

For anyone out there as ignorant as I, Michael Ruhlman is the author of The Making of a Chef, The Soul of a Chef, and Ratios, along with so many other books. When this man came to speak not only was every seat occupied but the stairs themselves had people sitting down anxiously awaiting this man speak for 30 minutes. I, lucky enough to be in the second row, eagerly observed this man of about 6'2, brunette, young, in jeans and a blue tshirt, sweep his eyes over his audience. I mistook his look as fear.

Michael Ruhlman was introduced in the same mediocre fashion "If I could describe in one word...." Ironically the word chosen to describe Michael Ruhlman was curious for I was madly curious about this man. He graduated from the CIA in 1998, less than 10 years has passed and now he is a famous author. He isn't an author of just food novels either, he writes about what he is passionate about, and is successful.

As he approached the audience he spoke with a loud powerful voice, speaking of obsession and passion with this drive to convince his audience. He spoke as though he had some serious message to convey and his words did not let him down. He spoke of his happiness, of the joy and love he feels for life every day doing what he loves. He might have been trying to speak to the hundreds of hungry faces watching him in that auditorium but he definitely spoke to me. He made me realize I could still write and cook, that as long as I had the drive I could do what ever I pleased, and I would be happy doing so.

At the end of the powerful but short lecture I concentrated on telling this man thank you. (By some odd chance I actually owned one of this man's books and stood in line to have it signed). I wanted to be able to place myself apart from the crowd, away from the listeners who say thank you out of edict or away from the listeners who say thank you out of being purely fans. I wanted to be able to convince this man that he helped me, that he had but a nerve at ease. However when I finally handed him my book to the man to sign it didn't matter how hard I grasped his hand or how serious I said thank you, the only feeling I got in return was exhaustion. The poor man had been signing all day and just wanted to get home I'm sure. I regret that Michael Ruhlman didn't know how much he had helped me, but I am glad I attended the lecture. The CIA does so many things right and one of them is opportunity. Every little opportunity prepares you for a larger one and the opportunity to see this chef speak gave me and my education motivation and hope. All to add up to a bigger opportunity someday.

Day 28

Class at 7 and now my throat is white. I remind myself of the "cotton mouth" snakes that my father always warned me of in the back yard. I make it though class of peppers and tomatoes and run to the nurse. The nurse, thankfully, is just as furious as I am that the doctors hasn't given me anything. She calls the hospital and I drive myself to the emergency room again. After 20 minutes I am advised about two tests and given a prescription for antibiotics.

The worst thing about this weekend. I am in a culinary school and am in pain when I eat. Today was my first day to attempt to eat-I haven't eaten since Friday night- and it was not a pleasant experience. Instead I just enjoy my company and go to math.

Every one has "nodded off" during class, I am not exception. But I have never slept through an entire class...before today. I had the "nodding off" feeling, you know the jerk of the head in an effort to stay awake, but this time when I jerk my head up the clock has gone past an hour. I feel awful that I slept but my body apparently needs some sleep.

Picking up my prescription reminds me how much I love Hyde Park. The gentleman not only held a light, friendly conversation, but did everything he could to help me in his establishment. The kindness I receive up here is amazing and refreshing. I make it back to my room and fall asleep. When I awake at 8 my body is refreshed but I do not want to be someplace loud or moving, I do not want to be alone either. Thankfully a friend offered an escape. I had a night of couch side TV watching, it all goes back to the small things, no?

Day 27

To wake up on a Sunday morning with a screaming hang over when you haven't had a drink for weeks is certainly an unpleasant one. When the chef last night said to cater at night leads to a hang over in the morning, I took her meaning quite differently. My head pulsed uncomfortably feeling as though my heart had dislodged and decided to make itself at home in my skull. Every muscle in my body felt like a rock thrown at the wall too many times. As I moved shocks of pain shot up my legs into my stomach and my fever threw my body into hysterics. I called a friend and was rushed to the emergency room. Five hours past by, myself slipping in and out of sleep, the doctor had taken a strep test and sent me home after coming out negative. My anger was a stone in my stomach and no amount of my energy would be wasted to bring it up. I went to bed early to toss and turn, this time without a fever.

Day 26

Let me start off with a sincere apology. It is not very well hidden that I have not updated for 10 straight days. Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me. Julia Child may say never apologize but Julia Child did not miss updating her blog for 10 straight days, so forgive me.

Day 26 was a Saturday and a doosey. I woke up Saturday morning excited for my first real kitchen experience, I was going to help cater a wedding. However I could not shout for joy, but throat was awfully sore. Not only could my body have not have chosen a worse day to not work functionally, but I had been eating right, sleeping full 8 hours a night, exercising, and taking 4 daily vitamins a day. As I went into the restroom to shower and freshen up I realize my body was not making a false alarm. Inside my mouth was a lovely, swollen, purple.....bloody thing, it was absolutely awful- especially coming from a woman. When men seem to have disgusting injuries it is worn for pride and the young man is now seen as rebellious and socially defying. It is not lady like to have such an injury so when pity is sought it is very hard to receive when one refuses to show the injury.

The campus nurse is not open on such a Saturday it seems and the local doctor does not take small business healthy insurance, let me assure you. By the time the wedding rolled around I must face a decision. In any story telling situation, the decision is clear. I should not have gone to the wedding, that would have been the responsible decision. However, faced in such a situation it was my first opportunity, the chef had my name, canceling on the day would be unprofessional, and I needed the money. I went to said wedding.

In the email in which I accepted the position to wait the wedding the description was a paid amount per hour from 6-8. However in a phone call I needed to arrive at 3. My total working hours were from 3-1, 10 hours straight. To cater, is to fight. My respect for caterers has skyrocketed. The work is hard. There is not one single moment, or place, in which you may sit or eat (due to my throat I did not eat all day and was significantly weaker than I am in full health), and you must be as friendly as absolutely possible, especially at a wedding. Being completely new I needed to comply to all of this and never found a spare moment to drink, I was dangerously dehydrated. In a word, this wedding was hell, to say kindly. Normally this would scare me away. However I did it. I worked a ten hour shift, no break, no food, no water, no health. I worked through the personalities of the chef and the customers. I worked on the verge of tears and did not dare complain once- I did very loudly in my car later. But I did it. I am not scared away, but I am not motivated. I am curious.

I went to bed this night in the sweat and frigid shivers of a fever. My body lay motionless on my bed to await a new day.

Day 21

I feel bad. Today I woke up, looked over in my roommate's bed and thought she wasn't there. In that fact I called Zax and after putting him on speaker while I ate my cereal in peace, poor Katelyn rolled out of bed not very happy with me. I don't blame her.

Today I set aside everything to catch up on homework. And by catch up on homework I mean, clean my room, do my dishes, wash my laundry, check my email, go out for lunch, call my father, and THEN did 2 chapters of homework before convincing myself that going outside and taking pictures of the campus was more worth my time. My day was one of procrastination. I feel awful but I needed one day to myself. After my day I accepted another invite to dinner. Me and 9 other friends went to a very popular diner. I had a milkshake and breakfast and ate way too much. I need to stop doing that.

Not a busy day, but a nice solitary one.

Day 20

Again, another awful night. I can't sleep and if I do I have nightmares. Waking up completely disoriented at 8 I fulfilled my promise to go to the farmer's market. I'm glad I did and I'm secretly glad it was just me and another girl friend. I was almost experiencing social over load and being around one person was just enough.

She and I found the farmer's market after being lost several times. When we arrived I was in heaven. I had to remind myself that I had a dorm fridge so things like basil and tomatoes could not be in the picture. Instead I bought some whole, grass-fed, real milk for my cereal; soft dill cheese, honey, ciabatta bread, asiago bread, and a brownie. That should keep my fridge full of things I would gladly eat, quickly. After we dropped all this off, we went to Target to find some dorm room necessities, like a water pitcher. We ran more errands, finding a birthday cake, and decorating a dorm door was one of them. Then she and I went swimming- I'm not kidding. After swimming we caught up with the big group, had dinner, had ice cream, watched a movie, and then I finally got to go to bed. Doesn't sound like much but believe me- I haven't been alone, except to sleep, since friday night.

Day 19

I slept in today, woke with sluggish joy, and made myself walk to the Court Side Cafe for lunch. As I did so a friend grabbed me and invited me to go berry picking. I didn't have any plans for the day- so what the hell. It sounded fun. After we grabbed several more people, we filled up another car and took off for an unknown farm.

We turned off the highway down a picture perfect road. It was paved with dirt and lined with green grass that spread out for acres on each side. A single line trees jutted high above our car and let a few windows of blue peak through. We pulled up to a tiny house with a black lab- that made me long for my own- running along the side of the car. It wasn't the farm we first had in mind but the woman kindly told us we could pick peaches, apples, and raspberries. Excited, we all made our way with Frankie, the black lab, to the peach orchard. We put our Product Knowledge....knowledge to the test and tried to pick out the most beautiful peaches and in our luck we found a soft, ripe peach we all took a sun-warmed bite and laughed watching the juice dribble down other's chins. Our sticky hands marked us as the thieves we were but the warm, sweetly tangy fruit was amazingly worth it. I was separated for only a few beats. In these precious moments I was walking down the hill in between the rows of peach trees, looking out over the rest of the farm, with the bluest clearest sky over head. I watched new found friends laugh and walk ahead. I had another stolen peach in my hand and as I ate the rest of the delicious fruit, I realized how blessed i was. I was truly happy and the warm sun that the peach had bathed in now filled me and made me smile and take thanks for where I was.

We picked apples- too starchy to be valued- and then raspberries. Being a raspberry fanatic, I was in love. I loved picking the varieties of red, purple, and white raspberries; tasting the difference, and watching to see which ones were sweet enough to gently tease off the bush and which ones still clung one until maturity. Much like life, if we struggle to do something we are not yet ready, but if we can fall into what ever is offered then we are old enough to see the world, instead of clinging to the safety of our branches. I feel philosophical today, can you tell?

After we gathered our gold we talked- like nerdy culinarians do- about what we could possibly cook with them. We then decided, what better than a cook out?

We spent 3 hours in Walmart trying to but such a feast together and Lord in Heaven did we. We had chicken wings, 10 pounds of hamburger, macaroni salad (my own contribution), potato chips, soda, key lime pie, raspberry cheese cake, and there had to be more. After we all fell deeply into a food coma we started offering our food to those smoking in the gazebos. We were a very popular group. Unfortunately we still through out a heart breaking amount and I went to bed- I had been up and about since 10 that morning- it had been a long day.

Day 18

Again today is foggy, for again I could not update about today until several days past. I woke up early with good intentions on going to Product Knowledge early to help out with the stewarding. For some odd reason I talked myself out of it and spent my breakfast catching up on my blog. PK came around and it was mushroom day! Oh, what a day! I love mushrooms but had know idea there were mushrooms other than button! I'm completely kidding of course....I've had shiitake. The experience of tasting all the different varieties of mushrooms, unknown to me, was fascinating. I never knew the delicacy of oyster mushrooms or the meaty earth of morels.

As I said, in between classes is a blur, but I'd like to think I did something useful. After doing something useful I went to math and let me tell you, sitting in an empty class trying to be a good student is horribly demotivating. Our professor let us out early and I decided I would stay and complete my study guide. It lasted maybe 5 minutes before I took off as well.

Lunch was another experience. Yesterday I saw a girl wearing a shirt very similar to one I have, that I like very much. Today I wore mine. It is a very high in the neck shirt, low in the waist, and not form fitting at all. It does however show off one's shoulders quite well. The dress code is business casual- minus the exposed shoulders. This not being a provocative shirt I thought it would be a safe decision. As it was the first turn over of the new classes the students in the kitchen were instructed to be as strict as possible. I walked in, ready for a burger of CIA expectations and was told that I could not be served. In embarrassment I went back to sit with some friends trying to feign my mind away from what just happened. Lucky a man came over, apologized for overhearing and said the chef apologized and said I could eat. After he and I went back and forth about me actually being hungry I went back to the kitchen, was apologized to yet again, and told that my shirt was an exception. So you never know.

Right before Writing I went down to the mail room and delightfully found a care package waiting for me. I hiked up to my class before opening it and did so with joy. If any parents read this- always send packages to your students away- even if it is just black socks- its greatly improves their day. Writing started off with its slow, slow pace. When it finally started picking up-even those who sleep through it were awake and active- our teacher asked us to stop and that this wasn't freshman writing level, it was much higher, so she brought up Twilight. Oh what a world.

After all my classes were done a group of friends and I went to the gym and then to the movies. A night that ended with an exhausted writer and a start to a weekend that was fun with a never ending moment.

Day 17

Today had an interesting start. I tossed and turned all night, couldn't rest my mind enough to sleep. When I finally did I had nothing but nightmares- and its true when they say the mind sorts the thoughts in sleep. I didn't dream about anything except what I was worried about. I clearly remember in one I had "finally gotten to sleep" and woke up exceedingly late. One of my new found friends was in my dorm room, at my computer, and I asked him how late I had slept. He told me 7. I panicked and asked if it was am or pm, when he gave me a funny look and said pm I jumped out of bed. You see in my dream I had that wedding event I told you I applied for a while back that started at 7. When I woke up it was 7:40 am on my clock, I was relieved but very disoriented. I was convinced it was Saturday (it was Thursday) and I had now idea why my room mate wanted to get up at 5 in the morning or why I had gone to bed so early the "Friday" night before.

Disappointed I didn't sleep in, or even get valuable sleep the time I was, I drug myself to the shower. When I returned to my dorm my cell rang reminding me I had to meet to learn more about Ben and Jerry. Luckily the ring was my partner saying he was going to be late- thank God, so was I. Oddly enough, I found more about Ben of the Ben and Jerry and felt my research accomplished- now all I have to do is read "Double Dipped" and I think I have accumulated enough information to fill a power point to my liking.

Lunch was interesting today. In the CIA we have a graduation every 3 weeks, as do we have new students. Thursday (today) and Friday the banquette is closed because the student staff is practicing for graduation. Monday we will not have school so new students may move in. My fellow fiends and I did not know this. We all made it, on time, to a very empty banquette room before heading back to Farquarson, the hall we normally eat dinner in. The hall was grander than it normally presents itself. The middle of the room was lined with table after table of all the different kitchens and classes preparing small tasting plates at the ready. Bread mounded on a table in the back to add majestic height and breath taking desserts outlined the edges of the hall.

Afterwords a friend and I wasted the rest of the day. She and I migrated from my dorm to the gym back to my dorm just girl talking and filling up time before class- I even caught caught up on my blog. Class came and I soaked up every word she provided- her knowledge and presentation is fascinating. However everything today was trivial until dinner.

Dinner, I foolishly thought, would be the same as everyday. I thought that until I saw lobster listed in the window. I swiped my card and stood in line- unfortunately it was a foolish move. I've never liked lobster, I don't think I've had it prepared right. Again, it was bland and over cooked- however, I could taste more of the natural sweetness the meat offers in comparison to the other lobster I've had. This gives me hope. The kitchen I received the lobster from has never impressed me, but given the chance another kitchen might prepare it and I get a delicious treat. Again I made my way into the Farquarson Hall and realized that the celebration was still going on. In my glowing happiness I gathered a few of the tasting plates from this display. I gathered sushi, tamales, and guacamole. I ate feeling as lucky as can be, cleansed my palate with some artisan bread, and adventured to the dessert booths. I stacked up pomegranate sorbet, chocolate-pistachio moose, and creme brulee. I was in heaven of gluttoness sin and joy.

Food safety came by and we got our tests back. I made a 92%, very proud of my grade. Class was delightful as we had group work and me and my group were anything but professional.

Night came and I feel compromised. I promised a friend I would make it to W.O.R.D (World of Random Dancing) that night but on my way to the evening I got caught up in a conversation with another friend. I do not regret staying for the conversation, I needed it, but I do regret promising my other friend I would go. I don't like feeling flaky, I just have a little too much on my plate right now.

Day 16

Today I went to product knowledge bright and early for breakfast. I wasn't a steward today but watched as hell broke loose. One of my friends was a steward, he was late. The other three didn't even bother to show up. The moral of this story: if I would have shown up early-besides the fact that I wasn't a steward- I could have jumped in and further impressed the chef. I'm going to start doing this and strongly urge anyone who will attend the CIA to do the same.

Lunch is getting to almost be planned and I feel very happy about my "group". We are now larger to take up more than one table (of 6).

After lunch we all migrated to find the office giving out our chef whites- which made me ecstatic. My chef coats made me feel pretty actually- compared to the huge chef whites my previous job provided for me. The fit me just right and made me look like that I actually had a waist. My chef pants were big on me- BIG ON ME! I was so happy! I need to return them in a week, and I haven't tried on anything else- but the word around town is I need to because the vests are unisex and the small are too big on medium girls like me. I ordered a medium.

Math also boost my confidence. I felt like I didn't understand the lesson in the beginning, but given the opportunity to do the problems by myself I did them all correctly.

Writing was grueling as I predict the rest of the 14 weeks will be. The topic is completely unrelated, elementary, and-to a point- offensive. I bit my tongue-quite literally- throughout the entire class.

After class I worked off my frustration and carrot cake with some intense games of pool, fuse ball, ping pong, and racket ball.

Day 15

Even though today was my sleep in day I woke up early. Some friends and I woke up to go to the store room and witness "receiving", a process in which a restaurant receives the produce from its provider. It is suggested to students to be able to learn more about the procedure and how to determine the quality of your produce. It was a wonderful experience, you can really understand how much this school considers itself a school. The workers politely kept us out of the way but we could still see everything. When something was going to be sent back one man would call us over and ask us why the produce was no good. If we couldn't answer he'd show us and explain, and enjoyed doing so.

After the storage room my partner in gastronomy and I decided to start on our Ben and Jerry's project. I never knew there was so much about Ben and Jerry's ice cream. That is all I can say.

Today was also the career fair. I've made it my goal to go to every single career fair offered. Even though I am no where near graduating, it never hurts to explore and research, and those who show up regularly get recognized. When I went I noticed there were two kinds of companies and I wasn't going to give one the time of day. This is a prestigious college, the students that graduated are well trained and wanted. As I walked in the first booth had a chef great me kindly and professionally, introducing himself and his business. He asked me my name, how far along I was in the program, when I was graduating, and what I was interested in. He sold his business very well and he has my respect and consideration. Most booths did the same, however some sat behind their tables, arm crossed, and barely made eye contact. I approached one. Introduced myself and getting to shake his hand was like pulling teeth. I told him my name, where I was in the program, when I was graduating, and what I was interested in. I told him that I was a new student and didn't know what I wanted to do and what his business was. He told me fine dining. With that I told him it was a pleasure to meet him and left. All and all the career fair was a good experience. I got a lot of advice, plenty of friendly faces, and I gave out one resume.

Classes start at 4 and gastronomy lets us out an hour early. I wasn't feeling well and blame dehydration but I enjoyed my long dinner. After which, we all went up to food safety and had another first test/quiz awaiting us. Again, I was the first one done and I feel confident.

Tonight we took it easy. We went to a friend's room and watch a movie with Oreos and peanut butter (a culinary MASTERPIECE) and popcorn. After the movie I went straight to bed. I was exhausted.

Day 14

Monday morning, last day of stewarding. I'm going to miss it, but today I think I impressed my chef- I tried my damnedest. Today we had a lot to taste therefore a lot to prepare. As I was running around trying to make everything perfect I realized one steward didn't show up at all and the three others were in the back doing their jobs. I was the only steward in the "front of the house". I kept trying to finish what I was doing to go back and help them but the chef kept asking me to do more things up front- I was very pleased with myself. I felt accomplished and like I was getting things done. Oh! We also had a quiz today in product knowledge, I was the first one done and I feel confident about my answer.

I updated my resume today and checked my CIA email, every student has one. Along with all the club information and campus wide emails, students are also emailed unique job offers. One time deals, that pay well, and normally end on a weekend. In my excitement I applied for three. One wedding, one engagement party, and one food and wine festival. The wedding accepted me as a server and the so did the food and wine festival, in fact the food and wine festival was so excited that I applied early I was put on for two days instead of just one. I am still awaiting confirmation on the engagement party. The best part of these opportunities is you a) get your name out there b) get your face out there c) get better experience and pay than an on campus job and d) get to manage your own hours. I feel like I'm my own boss and very excited for my freedom.

In math we got our first test results back and I only missed 2. The last one that I completely guessed on (after my calculator decided to ruin our years of friendship in the last two problems of my test) and the other was one that I had actually worked out two different ways and got the same answer. I wish I could have gotten the actual test back to see how I went wrong. Today was also carrot day. We got to play with the yield you loose when preparing food. We did this by weighing carrots as bought then after trim and peeling. Turns out everyone got near a 80% yield. Fascinating.

My easy day (because I was done with my classes) soon turned to frustration. I researched my externship information and instead of that calming me I panicked. I felt like I still had so much to do and so little time. I caught up with my laundry and organized my room. Cleaning makes me feel like my life is in much more order than it actually is.

Day 13

Its Sunday, and I'm finally caught up with my blog. Today I woke up late, sunburt, blistered, and sore. I called my mother and went to church.

After church I decided to go to the school luau. I met up with David, a friend of mine that I really click with. He's having a hard time, and being years older than many of the kids on campus I can understand him feeling isolated. The luau passed and some friends and I played a game a frisbee, went to see Julie and Julia, then had dinner.

Julie and Julia was a wonderful movie. I loved how you watched both people go through real conflicts. You witnessed real human interaction, and learned the power of love that people supporting you feel, but the only person that can accomplish your goals are you.

This was my day and now I must catch up on homework- hopefully this week I won't get so blogged down.

Day 12

Today I woke up at 7 to go to the city! We got a group of 10 people together to get a discount train ticket and left Poughkeepskie at 9:30 (4 people drove to the train station). When we got to Grand Central we automatically lost 2 people- 1 of which we expected to catch up to later that day.

We walked outside and decided our first goal was to find brunch (its about 11:30). We wondered aimlessly around the city, taking in the surroundings, watching a marathon of cycles, scooters, and rollerbladers go by, basking in the sun. As stomachs started to growl we became less picky and migrated into a Jewish diner. They had such things as tongue sandwiches and egg cream drink. Some people in our group got the fun foreign food and shared bites. I had a cheeseburger and onion rings. I needed some greasy food after weeks and weeks of gourmet food. We were stuffed

Afterwords we went to little Italy (after an hour of walking we finally found it). Stomachs a little less than full we decided gelato from little Italy would be perfect. The gelato was great in my mind and we headed for China town.

Now, I love my friends back home with every fiber of my body, but having a day being with other culinarians made me realize somethings I would never think of suggesting to do was really fun and fulfilled a part of me once ignored. In China Town we went in and out of meat markets, fish markets, and produce stands. We found pig feet, hanging chickens, cooked fish blood, fuzzy cucumbers. It was wonderfully satisfying to a part of my soul that wasn't hungry until fed. We played in the markets before finding a cute china restaurant for dim sum. Now I don't know how well informed my readers are if I have any-but I had no idea what dim sum even was. I was in for the best surprise of my life. 7 of us all sat around a white tabled clothed table with red walls (we lost one back in Little Italy). As Chinese waiters and waitress all gathered around with trays of food and yelling their titles at us Leslie and Dillion took control and started yelling back, saying which tray to leave and what tray to take away. As we passed around familiar food like dumplings and foreign food like shrimp stuffed rice noodles, the pace and adrenaline gave me a high that made me buzz and glow.

After little china we took off for the financial district, checked out ground zero, and then took the subway back to east village. In east village we went to a coffee shop in the gay village and gloried in the stereotypical chic coffee shop for a rest. As we did so we discovered we had eaten on the hour almost every hour. After the sun had gone down a little we found a Spanish restaurant in the hipster part of NYC and shared 7 tapas. Again the conversation was ever flowing and wonderful.

As the city lit up with the setting of the sun and the rising of night life we made our way to time square. When we arrived I was in awe. I felt so small, so big. The lights were so bright it felt like day light and the world felt so... in that moment.

That moment passed and we found an American diner for our last go around of New York Cheesecake. Again the conversation was vibrant and I laughed so hard that I made no sound. You know that laugh? The best laugh in the world? Your entire body spasms and just the fact that you cannot stop laughing spurs more laughter. As I grabbed my white napkin to wipe away tears off came a beautiful eyelash shaped black smudge, which brought the laughter back.

The night waned on and after several sequences of events half the group ended up back at Grand Central Station (found the guy who we lost in Little Italy). Communication strained and the clock ticked. Finally the half group checked train times. One train left at 11:12 and another at 12:08. It was 11. We waited in line until we discovered a room full of ticket machines. We bought tickets. It was 11:08. The other half runs across the plaza to buy their own, 11:09. All but me, Alex, and Leslie were at the train. Leslie had trouble getting his card to be approved, Alex was with me because my knee gave out earlier. Finally I get it to transition for him, including a girl next to him taking the 11:12 train to Poughkeepskie as well. 11:10 We get the ticket and run to the train. 11:12 We sit as the train starts to move. 1:3o we land in our room.

Day 11

Today I woke up early to be a steward! I am so excited! In product knowledge you taste food everyday and need to prepare it. To save the chef on tedious work he assigns stewards to chop and separate produce. I was very much looking forward to it and showed up half an hour early. Although I know I didn't impress the chef or anything close but I felt important and oddly calm. Standing in a silent room sliding a knife through a piece of fruit with the ease of a wave brought me peace.

Math was next and my first test. Before class I made a to-do list of everything I needed to do including homework, research, and room care. Instead of calming me down I went into a mini panic attack and could not think logically or reasonably throughout math. Ironically I feel confident about the test...until my calculator died on me. Two problems until the end. Typed the full problem in, hit enter, and bam! No power. However, I didn't loose my cool and just finished the test.

Lunch was amazing today. Unbelievable. I knew and loved everyone at my table, and when we walked into the banquette room the tables were already plated. Every chair had a different appetizer plated to pure perfection. The plates looked like pieces of art they were so beautiful. My table, the only one that did this in the room, passed each plate around for one bite each. It was one of the best experiences. We also had a cheese plate that course. Good lunch.

English was the longest class in the world. When we got out I dressed myself up as nice as I could and me and some friends walked to the movies. Not a good idea- I would not suggest it.

Day 10

Oh how the days run together, I must make a commitment to blog everyday or else write the days down.

Today I remember was a gastronomy and food safety day. I wish I could remember every minute detail but unfortunately I do not.

I remember lunch, for it was a very memorable lunch. It made me realize as much as I love New York and the atmosphere you will always run into road blocks, or possibly speed bumps. Lunch wasn't necessarily a road block, but it was a punch to the stomach to knock the wind out of me. My lunch table was with somewhat familiar faces, however one of the faces I'd never seen before. He was a graduate who was employed by the CIA as a recruiter. He went around the table asking where people were from and talking about the different areas he travels to recruit. I laughed, preparing another ice breaker. "You never send anyone down to Oklahoma".

This ice breaker was crushed immediately. He told me there was no point to recruit in Oklahoma. I kept a smile frozen on my face expecting a joke or a laugh, anything to insinuating a tease. Nothing.

"Why are you from there?" Yes. I smiled again, maybe he just didn't understand. "I still don't change my mind." Stones filled up my stomach and my cheeks flushed with and icy chill. How was I being judged for who I was by just this one statement? I felt sick, trapped, like an animal who wasn't even given a chance.

Today I had gastronomy again, and food safety. Again the hours are fuzzy to me. I know it sounds awful that lunch is the only thing I remember but I had a good evening.

My friend Alex and I adventured to the Student Rec. Center to discuss with someone about starting a new club. He is trying to get a swing club started and I'm trying to help in anyway possible. Tonight I stayed in and caught up on sleep.

Day 9

I am working off of 5 hours of sleep. But I make it to product knowledge and another interesting day.

Today we discussed ripe fruit and vegetables. We all got to sample an under ripe pepper, a ripe pepper, an under pear, and a ripe pear. Possibly because my history about food as been so nieve that I ate under ripe things, I preferred the under ripe samples to the ripe. I thought they had more of a crisp and were sweeter- maybe I need to train my palate more. After product knowledge I enjoyed laying in my bed listening to the Guess Who- again more of the simple things in life that keep you happy.

Math was simple and writing (believe it or not) boosted my day. I still strongly cling to my opinion to feeling as though I'm in middle school when I walk through that door, but today I was complimented on something that I know I'm good at and everyone loves that too happen.

After class I decided for another simple pleasure. I haven't read all summer, something I love and miss deeply. I grabbed my Pride and Prejudice and walked down again to the ledge over looking the river and read until sunset. I walked back to my dorm, eating wild strawberries as I did, and was called over by two friends. I sat and talked to them for a long time until we gathered quite a group. Today's social was ice cones and we all grabbed one and headed back to a dorm for some music and relaxation. Yes I broke my promise again, but I feel like I deserve some a life experience and why not start now?

Day 8

Today is a little bit more memorable due to the fact its closer to the day that I'm actually updating on.

I love the days that I get to sleep in however, I truly prefer my morning classes. I feel like I don't waste half my day just waiting for classes then getting out at 8. However, today I must wait.

Today was laundry, trash, and another work out day. Lunch was great. The food, I didn't particularly enjoy, but I've never liked prime rib. I think it is an extremely over-rated piece of meat. It takes hours to cook correctly, and it half fat. The company though, were more advanced students that gave us a heads up on not only the CIA but Hyde Park. This weekend I plan on attending a farmer's market in Reinbeck (a very artsy town north of Hyde Park) on Sunday. Sometime this week I went on a hunt for a Wal-Mart and went through Reinbeck and I fell in love with it. The stores and people look very bohemian and modern in an unique mix. They also told us about the Coach Dairy Farm that sells goat cheese and lets CIA students tour the farm. I really hope to do this soon, I have to do more research.

I still have to research my externship and on campus employment- I feel like I'm so behind and it's only the first week. Finally class came by to distract me from my procrastination I promised I wouldn't let myself fall into. My gastronomy teacher is such an interesting woman. Before I get on that tangent, curiosity was driving me insane- I finally looked up the official definition of Gastronomy. According to Wikipedia: it is the study of the culture of food.

She told us a story today. Our project is to study a variety of chefs to understand our world more. Within that she told us that she was present at one of Julia Childs' birthday (she is such a humble woman- as the story progresses you learn what an important woman my professor plays in the culinary world). She explained that the celebration took place in the Rainbow Room- a place I had never heard of- but described as a beautiful circular room with a revolving circular dance floor in the center. At the head of the table was Julia Childs to her right was the chef who trained her (if I remember the story correctly), her left the president of the Rainbow Room, and his left my professor. At this party Martha Stewart walks up, rests her hand on my professor's chair and starts talking to the president, to which he responds "What do you want, Martha."
"Somebody is in my seat."
"Fuck off Martha"
In her upset state Mrs. Stewart took a step back onto the revolving floor and the president flipped a switch under his table which started the floor to revolve. My professor ended her story in her soft, elegant, English accent with "And Martha fell on her ass".

Dinner was extremely enjoyable- they had gyros at American cuisine kitchen and my mood was determined by the rest of today. (Gyros and other Greek food is my favorite food). Food safety was less exciting than the gyro. It is basically a 14 day health permit class for managers. I'll tell you that I don't want to eat ever again after that class...every day.

I also broke my promise to not go out on weeknights. Today's social event was an ice cream social and me and some friends went to see a movie in their dorm after words. It was fun, I'm trying hard.