It was a first-time realization tonight that I haven’t taken
the time to record any of the last few months’ culinary school happenings. This
could be a potential regret, since the ones I journal are most likely the only
ones I will be able to recall as an old granny, sharing my life’s pearls of
wisdom with all who will inquire, and, frankly, all who will not.
Unfortunately, I will not commit to be better at recording
the culinary journey- it’s a 2015 New Year’s resolution I just wont keep. Over the last three months, I have never
felt so stretched in every direction with the limited time each day is
allotted. I have mastered the art of multi-tasking, surviving the first few
months of school by memorizing tablespoon to gallon conversion tables on treadmills,
reviewing traditional French cuisine recipe flashcards on stroller walks, and
reading up on the history and method of basic culinary techniques while
watching sesame street. You'd be surprised by how many days you can get away with without washing your hair thanks to baby powder.
Chris has been gone most of the time on a rotation in Tucson
and then in Houston, and I have developed a deep respect for single full-time
working mothers. When weeks have been particularly rough and I have been so
tired I fall asleep at 1 AM with my chefs hat still on to wake up to an eager,
hungry baby boy at 6, I am reminded that these challenges are temporary by the
girl next to me in the kitchen who not only attends night school full-time as a
single mother, but also works the other full-time she has in her life in a
restaurant at Sky Harbor Airport. I have SO much respect for her.
It has been a personal goal to not let this experience take
away any of the limited time I have with Adele and Kellen in their baby years.
I feel guilty for not being there as much for Kellen as I was for Adele, but I
plan to make it up one way or another in the years to come by never letting him
move away from home.
My first impression of Culinary School was a hard
realization that this was not going to be a walk in the clouds dream
fulfillment. Most nights I feel like I am either in the military, or the bottom
line of a soup kitchen- taking orders from a no-nonsense master chef. Which
isn’t too far from accurate, considering that every professional kitchen is
essentially modeled after the French military brigade. In the late 19th
century, Georges Auguste Escoffier replaced the grand cuisine that ruled for
nearly a decade with a system that is still used in kitchens today; the purpose
of the brigade system is to ensure that talent and workspace are optimized,
each position within the kitchen having specific station and responsibility. So
all those kitchen competitions on the food network really are measuring skill
by making time and efficiency such a big factor in the process of production.
On the first day of school, we were instructed of the rules
of the kitchen and the classroom and reminded that any time the Chef addresses
us we are to reply, “Yes Chef”, or “No Chef”, and that it is disrespectful to
question the “Chef’s ways”- even if we think he is wrong. Until recently, the
title of ‘Chef’ was not necessarily one of respect, and so the culture of the
chef world is a rags-to-riches, work-you-way-up-in-this-world kind of attitude.
Most chefs are self-proclaimed snobs and expect respect for their hard work and
life experiences.
The last couple of weeks have been much easier having Chris
home, and I look forward to the remaining time left to learn and practice new
cooking techniques. I know I am blessed and fortunate to be living this dream
and to receive the culinary training each night. I believe whole-heartedly in
making your passions and goals a reality and hope I can somehow influence or
support that necessity in the future of my children.
