Long pause.

I thought I'd give myself some time & post about my last few days of school when Paul & I got back from our trip. I didn't spend any time thinking about what happened at school because why would I think about a community college vocational program when I'm in fucking France? It did come up a few times in conversation, but I'll get to that some other time.

The last week of school was more hectic & higglety-pigglety than I would have imagined. It was understandable that we had to deviate from the assigned menu because our main objective was to clear out what was still left in the walk-in fridges & freezer. Not only is the program closed for Spring Break, but until fall quarter. There's remodeling interrupting us, as I found out by letter last September, as I was training the person to take over my job I had just quit. Haha.

So my group is on Entrée, which is funny because 'entrée' refers to starters, not mains...anyway. In this sense, it meant 'mains'. I felt well, prepared & ready for the week. I should have known this sense of control would be challenged. As little food was being ordered to avoid stock-piling, this meant every day Chef K would be letting us know the same day what we'd be making. So forget prep- it's just a slog that you fumble through the best you can.

Thursday, he did let me know I'd be making seafood risotto for small plates. I have to be honest, & say although I was excited to be making something that wasn't some hideously outdated, oily recipe from our text 'Professional Cooking', which invariable tasted like hopelessness. The bummer that niggled at me was the word 'seafood'. OK, 'seafood'. It's a word so broad, it reminds me of a cat can. (Actually, cat cans are much more specific these days...) It's like reading the words 'Mixed Grill' on a menu that comes with a picture of the item.

It's knowning you've spent three more months working at something you adore & want to be better at, only to be absolutely uninspired.

So I attempted to edit 'seafood', as in pretending I didn't see the 3-lb sack of bay shrimp. Do you know what those things remind me of? Dead baby's fingers. I thought calamari, mussels & bay scallops were a decent combo. He caught me negkecting the sack though, & he wasn't amused.

Chef K also had me make my risotto 'restaurant style'. This means after sweating your aromatics & toasting the rice, you dump in all of the stock, cover it, throw it in the oven & cook it 80% through. Then cook it the rest of the way as needed on the stove with the seafood. OK, I could see how this works, but I can also the the potential for this dish to be good is diminished. Risotto isn't something you can treat like a step child & expect to be delicious. Or can you? The results I got were mixed. The first batch was fine, but with the carry-over cooking, the following batches were over-done before I finished them on the stove. It didn't have the same creaminess. More like bloppiness. So I suppose you would only do that if it was going faster than mine was. Let's just say I hope the homeless shelter that gets our Friday left overs like bastardized Italian cookery.

I admit it's good I'm did this warts'n'all exploration, but I'm looking forward to cooking on the line next quarter. There's been so much chatter about who will come back, who won't make it, but I most interested in who just talks a big talk & who actually can put out a lot of quality food quickly. There are those there who go out of their way to leave the rest of us with the impression that they're light years ahead. If that's the case, I wonder why a person would be in culinary school if they're so talented.

My feelings on Chef K are just as mixed. On the one hand, he's good at pushing a person. On the other, he's difficult to understand & you can never know where you stand with the guy. He had me making up suki yaki plates on the last Wednesday, & never told me that I needed to make 2 quarts of rice. (We have a separate starch station, & to be 100% honest, I didn't know what exactly what suki yaki was comprised of, or that I was even making it until forty minutes into something else I was originally making.) Of course, he was pissed, & I was confused, then annoyed he assumed that I know what fucking suki yaki is. I had prepared noodles, so I didn't know about this other rice component- pardon me! I like sushi & noodles, but Japanese cuisine isn't my forté. At this point, I don't have a forté, but this was the least likely candidate. At least my cuts were nice & my carrot plum blossoms weren't wonky!

Chef K & I have a history of instability. I did make him hopping mad once when I couldn't understand what he was asking me. The angrier he got, the more inscrutable he became. The funny thing is, I had answered his question, rather accidentally, but he was so obsessed with being understood he couldn't have cared less. I think this incident locked-in his perma-irritation with me.

It probably peaked before that, when during class he asked what puttanesca was. I answered that it had garlic, anchovy, tomato, capers, olive. 'No bacons?!' he replied. 'Uhm, no bacons.' I think I should have left that one hanging. The look of complete disregard I'd become more familiar with had left me puzzled. Why so pissed? It doesn't have bacon.

But do I really care if he liked me? No, nor do I care if I like him, though I don't dislike him at all. I'm not one of those people who extolls on 'Chef is soooooo great, blah blah blah,' just because he's the chef instructor. I barely got to know the guy, & him me. This contingent of students in the program who think their ability is on par with how buddy-buddy they are with the instructors is so lame. & frankly, it's off-putting & self-important to go around acting like you have something over on anyone else because you drank a beer with Chef once.

This is what I know about myself: I have a long way to go, a personal style to develop & need to learn to trust my own instincts more than recipes or instruction. I really hope that being in school will give me the kind of space to cultivate these abilities. In the meantime, I've got to get a job.