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.