Monday, September 29, 2003
I can’t believe how much I thought I knew about the kitchen.
Let’s just say it’s a good thing I posted that piece a while back about how I’m starting to realize that I don’t know everything. That little bit of foresight is going to save me a whole lot of embarrassment.
Three weeks ago, I started a professional culinary course. It’s a twelve month program which I’m doing at night so that I can write during the day. Or partake in some other (actual money-making) ventures. Classes are Monday to Friday from 5:00 to 10:00 pm. You know what this means, people: No more prime time television. This is serious stuff.
The first thing I learned, on my very first night, is what a spoiled brat I am. Of the twenty-two students in the class, I was only one of two not currently holding a full-time job. The other student, like me, was in the midst of a long awaited career change. We’re talking about someone who got into graphic design before it became computerized, and now finds herself parked in a chair all day. A kindred spirit.
That leaves nineteen adults (and one minor) who work a full eight hour day, and then attend five hours of class. Or the other way around. One woman, who works in a chocolate factory, leaves class and heads to work for a midnight to 8:00 am shift. Three days a week, she works a part-time job in the afternoons. On top of all this, she went and visited every single kitchen supply store in order to report back to us on who had the best prices. This woman is an inspiration.
There are a few kids, by which I mean in the 17-21 age range, who are fresh out of school and know that this is what they want. For the rest of us, it’s about searching for a better life. And I mean this literally. A healthy percentage of students have just arrived within the last few months from countries such as China, Croatia, Thailand and Mexico. These are people who barely speak the language, are undoubtedly working low paying jobs, who may have families to support and yet still come in every night at five o’clock. This is passion. This is dedication. This is drive.
So far, the class has mainly focused on some essential theory, such as hygiene and safety, but bit by bit we are beginning to explore the kitchen and all the various tools and equipment. Last week, we learned some basic knife skills. I learned what a spaz I am. The only thing scarier than learning how to chop vegetables is learning how to hone a blade against a steel.
A few nights ago, we learned about all of the different equipment in the kitchen; the mixers, blenders, grill, deep fryer, etc. I learned what a klutz I am. I have such a bad case of nerves, I tend to break or drop anything I touch. It’s really the most bizarre thing. I love the kitchen. I spend a good chunk of my time in the kitchen. So how is it that suddenly I feel like a stranger in a new land?
All of this is very disconcerting to the keener in me – the little girl who wants to do well, please her teachers and get good grades. The theory part is fine; I’m an old hat at written exams. Regardless of the fact that I tend to suffer great anxiety the preceding night, I generally test well. But I can see already that this practical part is going to be a bitch. Almost everything I’ve done in the kitchen up to this moment has been wrong. How could my instincts have been so far off on the very thing that is closest to my heart? My precious, precious food – how could you have tricked me so? My hands shake, my palms sweat and I feel like I have two right feet. I read about food, I watch food-related television, and I eat a lot – I thought I knew this stuff. I thought I knew it cold.
But as it turns out, this culinary course makes for a nice little analogy of my life: I thought I knew it all, and really I know nothing. But this is a good thing. I will open myself entirely to the experience, become the proverbial blank slate and absorb as much as I possibly can. I will try new things, learn new techniques and build the foundation for an entirely new bank of knowledge, one that I can draw on for inspiration, ideas, and a whack of good writing. And even more than that, I’m going to share it all with you.
Rediscovering food. How cool is that? Because really, if I thought I loved it so much the first time around, imagine how incredible it’s going to be from here on in.
Let’s just say it’s a good thing I posted that piece a while back about how I’m starting to realize that I don’t know everything. That little bit of foresight is going to save me a whole lot of embarrassment.
Three weeks ago, I started a professional culinary course. It’s a twelve month program which I’m doing at night so that I can write during the day. Or partake in some other (actual money-making) ventures. Classes are Monday to Friday from 5:00 to 10:00 pm. You know what this means, people: No more prime time television. This is serious stuff.
The first thing I learned, on my very first night, is what a spoiled brat I am. Of the twenty-two students in the class, I was only one of two not currently holding a full-time job. The other student, like me, was in the midst of a long awaited career change. We’re talking about someone who got into graphic design before it became computerized, and now finds herself parked in a chair all day. A kindred spirit.
That leaves nineteen adults (and one minor) who work a full eight hour day, and then attend five hours of class. Or the other way around. One woman, who works in a chocolate factory, leaves class and heads to work for a midnight to 8:00 am shift. Three days a week, she works a part-time job in the afternoons. On top of all this, she went and visited every single kitchen supply store in order to report back to us on who had the best prices. This woman is an inspiration.
There are a few kids, by which I mean in the 17-21 age range, who are fresh out of school and know that this is what they want. For the rest of us, it’s about searching for a better life. And I mean this literally. A healthy percentage of students have just arrived within the last few months from countries such as China, Croatia, Thailand and Mexico. These are people who barely speak the language, are undoubtedly working low paying jobs, who may have families to support and yet still come in every night at five o’clock. This is passion. This is dedication. This is drive.
So far, the class has mainly focused on some essential theory, such as hygiene and safety, but bit by bit we are beginning to explore the kitchen and all the various tools and equipment. Last week, we learned some basic knife skills. I learned what a spaz I am. The only thing scarier than learning how to chop vegetables is learning how to hone a blade against a steel.
A few nights ago, we learned about all of the different equipment in the kitchen; the mixers, blenders, grill, deep fryer, etc. I learned what a klutz I am. I have such a bad case of nerves, I tend to break or drop anything I touch. It’s really the most bizarre thing. I love the kitchen. I spend a good chunk of my time in the kitchen. So how is it that suddenly I feel like a stranger in a new land?
All of this is very disconcerting to the keener in me – the little girl who wants to do well, please her teachers and get good grades. The theory part is fine; I’m an old hat at written exams. Regardless of the fact that I tend to suffer great anxiety the preceding night, I generally test well. But I can see already that this practical part is going to be a bitch. Almost everything I’ve done in the kitchen up to this moment has been wrong. How could my instincts have been so far off on the very thing that is closest to my heart? My precious, precious food – how could you have tricked me so? My hands shake, my palms sweat and I feel like I have two right feet. I read about food, I watch food-related television, and I eat a lot – I thought I knew this stuff. I thought I knew it cold.
But as it turns out, this culinary course makes for a nice little analogy of my life: I thought I knew it all, and really I know nothing. But this is a good thing. I will open myself entirely to the experience, become the proverbial blank slate and absorb as much as I possibly can. I will try new things, learn new techniques and build the foundation for an entirely new bank of knowledge, one that I can draw on for inspiration, ideas, and a whack of good writing. And even more than that, I’m going to share it all with you.
Rediscovering food. How cool is that? Because really, if I thought I loved it so much the first time around, imagine how incredible it’s going to be from here on in.
