Thursday, November 24, 2011
Friday, November 11, 2011
Straight Trippin'
They lean against the cooling car, backs pressed Upon the dusts of a brown continent, And watch the sun, now Westward of their West, Fall to the ocean. Where it led they went.
-Thom Gunn, Discovery of the Pacific
My externship is one day from being over. What now?
I want to go on a road trip.
Suggestions?
Sidenote: I can't actually get much farther west, I just love this poem.Sunday, October 16, 2011
Wedding Cake Massacre
You guys, it's been three weeks since I've been in a classroom. Three weeks!?! I haven't had time to miss it because, trust me, I'm getting plenty of quality bake time at my externship - which I love.
But I also just realized I never shared the beautious joy that was the wedding cake I made. It was a huge project and one of the most social. Oh, I made everything myself, but when you're sitting around making fake flowers by the dozen, there's not a lot else to do but chat with your neighbor. I should note that I never had to bake an actual cake for this project; it was constructed on foam blanks because it took about 8 days from start to finish and a real cake wouldn't have been able to withstand that.
Without further ado:
And it came to pass that there was to be a wedding cake, and that cake would have three tiers, and each tier would be layered in fondant, and each layer would have a focus flower and each focus flower would beget a filler flower.
And it was good.
But I also just realized I never shared the beautious joy that was the wedding cake I made. It was a huge project and one of the most social. Oh, I made everything myself, but when you're sitting around making fake flowers by the dozen, there's not a lot else to do but chat with your neighbor. I should note that I never had to bake an actual cake for this project; it was constructed on foam blanks because it took about 8 days from start to finish and a real cake wouldn't have been able to withstand that.
Without further ado:
And it came to pass that there was to be a wedding cake, and that cake would have three tiers, and each tier would be layered in fondant, and each layer would have a focus flower and each focus flower would beget a filler flower.
And it was good.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Julie Andrews Ate My Muffin
It's been two weeks since classes have ended at Giant Corporate Cooking School, how have I been spending them?
Working.
Or technically externing. So far I kind of love it. It's hard work and I'm still getting up ass early in the morning, but it's been a really enjoyable experience. For one thing, unlike my stage at a certain other place, I actually get to do stuff. Like make English muffins. Yes, if I have to do it for years, I will either find it tedious or think of it as a physical white noise, just something I do without thinking. But as for now, I've made the recipe maybe a dozen times and I can see how things like the weather and forgetting the salt alter the recipe. I make decent English muffins right now. By the end of this, my English muffins are going to rock.
Speaking of English muffins, a certain English rose enjoyed one of mind. Julie Andrews came into the restaurant and got eggs benedict. You guys, Mary Poppins/Maria von Trapp ate my muffin! Only in LA.
Working.
Or technically externing. So far I kind of love it. It's hard work and I'm still getting up ass early in the morning, but it's been a really enjoyable experience. For one thing, unlike my stage at a certain other place, I actually get to do stuff. Like make English muffins. Yes, if I have to do it for years, I will either find it tedious or think of it as a physical white noise, just something I do without thinking. But as for now, I've made the recipe maybe a dozen times and I can see how things like the weather and forgetting the salt alter the recipe. I make decent English muffins right now. By the end of this, my English muffins are going to rock.
Speaking of English muffins, a certain English rose enjoyed one of mind. Julie Andrews came into the restaurant and got eggs benedict. You guys, Mary Poppins/Maria von Trapp ate my muffin! Only in LA.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Bittersweet
I tied my last cravat yesterday.
Classes at the Giant Corporate Cooking School are over. People I have seen and worked with at obscene hours of the morning on a daily basis for the better part of a year are going to stop being a part of my life. Or at least I won't be seeing them every weekday and commiserating about whatever the task du jour was. There are a few people I will keep up with, but it won't be the same.
I've been so frazzled lately (witness the half a dozen blog posts that never made it), I hadn't even given it much thought. It wasn't until we were scrubbing down the kitchen for the final time that it hit me: I won't be cooking in here anymore. And that was the tipping point, that was when I began to look around and realize, this is it.
I didn't cry, but I thought I was going to. Everyone lingered a bit longer than usual. There was hugging. We did the hokey pokey (I kid you not). And then...
Well, I had to go to work. Life rolls on, even when you want to stop for a moment.
Classes at the Giant Corporate Cooking School are over. People I have seen and worked with at obscene hours of the morning on a daily basis for the better part of a year are going to stop being a part of my life. Or at least I won't be seeing them every weekday and commiserating about whatever the task du jour was. There are a few people I will keep up with, but it won't be the same.
I've been so frazzled lately (witness the half a dozen blog posts that never made it), I hadn't even given it much thought. It wasn't until we were scrubbing down the kitchen for the final time that it hit me: I won't be cooking in here anymore. And that was the tipping point, that was when I began to look around and realize, this is it.
I didn't cry, but I thought I was going to. Everyone lingered a bit longer than usual. There was hugging. We did the hokey pokey (I kid you not). And then...
Well, I had to go to work. Life rolls on, even when you want to stop for a moment.
Friday, September 16, 2011
No one rides for free
I just went to get my oil changed because I had a coupon for a $17.99 oil change with complimentary fluid check, tire rotation, and the like. Do you know how much I paid?
$282.67
It turns out that the rubber protecting my right front drive axle was gone, vanished, simply not there and eventually it would mean that I would go to make a turn and the car would go no further. At least this is what I was told. Sadly, cars and car parts are relegated to the realms of unreal for me; I would just as soon believe I had gnomes living in the engine emitting a magical juice that makes the car run. Actually, I 'd prefer that - then I could attempt to bribe the gnomes with food.
Because I have no way to confirm or refute what I'm told about my car, and because I desperately need it to get around, I panicked and agreed to replace it immediately. I, of course, was in no way prepared to shell out nearly $300 today.
Cars break down, I know. And I should be better financially prepared to deal with emergencies.
What I would rather do is just say "to hell with it" and drive the car into the ground and on that fateful day when it does make the terrible crunching noise and stops - I wish I could be the kind of person who would just leave it there, title and keys on the drivers seat and hitchhike out of town. I wish I was the type of person who could let every material possession I have slide through my fingers like sand, never holding tight, always running free. I wish I wasn't nostalgic, I wish I didn't look back, I wish I didn't let myself become stuck between this endless adolescence and the trappings of adulthood without the paycheck. I wish, I wish, I wish.
But here I am. It hardly fixes what's wrong with the car either. Twelve years and almost 110,000 miles means things wear out and need to be replaced. Like the breaks ($250) which are getting thin. And the tires (no quote given) which don't have much tread left. And the pinion is leaking oil ($400+).
All of this leaves me with a longing for public transportation that borders on religious ferventness.
$282.67
It turns out that the rubber protecting my right front drive axle was gone, vanished, simply not there and eventually it would mean that I would go to make a turn and the car would go no further. At least this is what I was told. Sadly, cars and car parts are relegated to the realms of unreal for me; I would just as soon believe I had gnomes living in the engine emitting a magical juice that makes the car run. Actually, I 'd prefer that - then I could attempt to bribe the gnomes with food.
Because I have no way to confirm or refute what I'm told about my car, and because I desperately need it to get around, I panicked and agreed to replace it immediately. I, of course, was in no way prepared to shell out nearly $300 today.
Cars break down, I know. And I should be better financially prepared to deal with emergencies.
What I would rather do is just say "to hell with it" and drive the car into the ground and on that fateful day when it does make the terrible crunching noise and stops - I wish I could be the kind of person who would just leave it there, title and keys on the drivers seat and hitchhike out of town. I wish I was the type of person who could let every material possession I have slide through my fingers like sand, never holding tight, always running free. I wish I wasn't nostalgic, I wish I didn't look back, I wish I didn't let myself become stuck between this endless adolescence and the trappings of adulthood without the paycheck. I wish, I wish, I wish.
But here I am. It hardly fixes what's wrong with the car either. Twelve years and almost 110,000 miles means things wear out and need to be replaced. Like the breaks ($250) which are getting thin. And the tires (no quote given) which don't have much tread left. And the pinion is leaking oil ($400+).
All of this leaves me with a longing for public transportation that borders on religious ferventness.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
How sweet it is (for now)
I am halfway through my very last class at Giant Corporate Cooking School. There are only two projects left to realize before I walk out those doors for the last time ever and just keep going. The reality is beginning to set in and I know I'm going to miss it. But I'm also chomping at the bit to move onward to other things.
But here's what I've been doing:
My super girly princess torte: yellow sponge cake with vanilla buttercream and raspberry jam covered in marzipan and topped with a giant marzipan rose. Not my thing, both on the cake and color palette front, but it is what it was supposed to be.
Croquembouche: a traditional French wedding cake made up of cream puffs dipped in caramel and stacked on top of each other. Legend has it that famed pastry chef Antoine Carame came up with the idea to torment future pastry students. Or maybe it was when he witnessed marrying couples kissing over mounds of sweetened buns, the idea being if they could do it without knocking any over they would have a prosperous future.
And hey, does that rose at the bottom look familiar?
Reduce, reuse, recycle people! Besides, who eats the marzipan decorations?
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
I fought the stage and the stage won
I bet you think the word stage rhymes with rage. Wrong. In this case it is a French word that rhymes with dodge. (Originally, in my ignorance, I thought it was spelled stodge.) What is staging? It is the grand tradition of working for free in a kitchen to gain knowledge, a sort of kitchen apprentice. Most people can't afford to do long stages anymore (could they ever?), so the modern meaning is more of working a shift or two for free to see if you fit in the kitchen. A try out, so to speak.
Last Friday, I got to stage at Bouchon. Yup, Thomas Keller's Bouchon. They actually called me (!); the interview went well - I bonded with human resources over french fries and epis (baguettes shaped like wheat stalks). But it doesn't matter how well I can charm the human resources, what matters now is how will I fare in the kitchen?
So the stage was set and...
Look, I know I wouldn't be walking into a Thomas Keller kitchen and be allowed to actually do much. And I know that high volume kitchens have a lot of grunt work to be done and it's important that it's done correctly because it's the foundation for everything. (Cue the "there are no small parts, only small actors" mindset.) But it was a bit more mindless than I realized it would be.
To begin, I was nervous. Like throw up in the bathroom before I walked into the kitchen nervous. But once I got in and had my tour and met everybody (only about three of whom's names I actually remember), I was more or less fine. The kitchen is beautiful - it's on the second floor, surprisingly airy and light filled. There are less pleasant places to toil away for hours certainly.
What did I do? Portioned: 100 pounds of cookie dough, (I wish I were exaggerating), coffee cake batter, bouchon batter. Then I got to zest and juice 70 lemons. All the while I cleaned and maintained my station, cater wrapped everything and generally tried to stay out of the way.
Though I felt I acquitted myself well but I left with a feeling of failure and defeat. True to form, I have not heard a peep from them since. And yes, I did call to thank everyone. Even more discouraging? I wasn't the only one staging, I wasn't even the only pastry person staging. Though I did stay the longest. 10 hours.
So there you have it folks. Odds are if you have eaten a chocolate chip cookie in the past week at the Beverly Hills Bouchon, it was lovely scooped by none other than me. It will have been delicious, of course. The bitterness didn't come until later.
Last Friday, I got to stage at Bouchon. Yup, Thomas Keller's Bouchon. They actually called me (!); the interview went well - I bonded with human resources over french fries and epis (baguettes shaped like wheat stalks). But it doesn't matter how well I can charm the human resources, what matters now is how will I fare in the kitchen?
So the stage was set and...
Look, I know I wouldn't be walking into a Thomas Keller kitchen and be allowed to actually do much. And I know that high volume kitchens have a lot of grunt work to be done and it's important that it's done correctly because it's the foundation for everything. (Cue the "there are no small parts, only small actors" mindset.) But it was a bit more mindless than I realized it would be.
To begin, I was nervous. Like throw up in the bathroom before I walked into the kitchen nervous. But once I got in and had my tour and met everybody (only about three of whom's names I actually remember), I was more or less fine. The kitchen is beautiful - it's on the second floor, surprisingly airy and light filled. There are less pleasant places to toil away for hours certainly.
What did I do? Portioned: 100 pounds of cookie dough, (I wish I were exaggerating), coffee cake batter, bouchon batter. Then I got to zest and juice 70 lemons. All the while I cleaned and maintained my station, cater wrapped everything and generally tried to stay out of the way.
Though I felt I acquitted myself well but I left with a feeling of failure and defeat. True to form, I have not heard a peep from them since. And yes, I did call to thank everyone. Even more discouraging? I wasn't the only one staging, I wasn't even the only pastry person staging. Though I did stay the longest. 10 hours.
So there you have it folks. Odds are if you have eaten a chocolate chip cookie in the past week at the Beverly Hills Bouchon, it was lovely scooped by none other than me. It will have been delicious, of course. The bitterness didn't come until later.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Penguins on a Cake
For your viewing pleasure, I present my Penguins of Madagascar cake:
You can see where I broke the cityscape cocoa painting an hour before I had to present the cake. I did my best to glue it back together but unfortunately royal icing needs about 24 hours to dry. I'm actually really proud how it turned out; while definitely not the best cake, nor the most professional looking, it is clearly penguins. They're so much cuter than I thought they would be! Especially Rico:
But who doesn't like a guy with a healthy appetite and a mohawk?
You can see where I broke the cityscape cocoa painting an hour before I had to present the cake. I did my best to glue it back together but unfortunately royal icing needs about 24 hours to dry. I'm actually really proud how it turned out; while definitely not the best cake, nor the most professional looking, it is clearly penguins. They're so much cuter than I thought they would be! Especially Rico:
But who doesn't like a guy with a healthy appetite and a mohawk?
Friday, August 19, 2011
Grit, Spit, and a Whole Lot of Duct Tape
I may have forgotten to mention that on Monday I started my last class at the Giant Corporate Cooking School and it's on cake decorating. You know me and cakes: it's a tenuous relationship. But it has to be done - especially if I can't get an externship (Thomas Keller Restaurant Group call me - please!). As of now if I pass this class I could fail the externship portion and still have a C average. *Sigh*
So the cake decorating class is entirely different from any of the previous classes. It's much more relaxed. We have five projects due over the course of the six weeks and each one counts as a practical exam. Instead of making something everyday and presenting it, we're doing different components for the projects. And this go round there's sitting!
The first project is a children's celebration cake. Whatever I'm supposed to be celebrating wasn't specified, I guess it's enough to celebrate being a kid. And all the awesome tv programming they have. Originally, I was going to do a Scooby Doo themed cake because who doesn't love Scooby Doo? (True story: when I was a kid I honestly thought I would get to travel around the country in a van with my friends and a solve crimes, talking dog optional. In a way, Scooby Doo ruined my life.)
But then I started thinking about the Penguins of Madagascar. The cake has to have a figurine made out of modeling chocolate, and I debated whether I wanted to do one figure that has more detail (Scooby) or four with less (Penguins). In the great Scooby vs. Penguins coin toss, the Penguins won. And I'm kinda glad because I don't think I have the skills do make a good Scooby.
This was my inspiration:
This is what I have so far:
I'm not going to say anything bad about because they turned out much better than I thought they would. And consider what I started out with:
Is it just me or is there something vaguely "Elvis Impersonator"-ish about it? It got better when I started to add the details:
The final cake is due on Wednesday. Until then remember, "retreating is like running away, only manlier!"
So the cake decorating class is entirely different from any of the previous classes. It's much more relaxed. We have five projects due over the course of the six weeks and each one counts as a practical exam. Instead of making something everyday and presenting it, we're doing different components for the projects. And this go round there's sitting!
The first project is a children's celebration cake. Whatever I'm supposed to be celebrating wasn't specified, I guess it's enough to celebrate being a kid. And all the awesome tv programming they have. Originally, I was going to do a Scooby Doo themed cake because who doesn't love Scooby Doo? (True story: when I was a kid I honestly thought I would get to travel around the country in a van with my friends and a solve crimes, talking dog optional. In a way, Scooby Doo ruined my life.)
But then I started thinking about the Penguins of Madagascar. The cake has to have a figurine made out of modeling chocolate, and I debated whether I wanted to do one figure that has more detail (Scooby) or four with less (Penguins). In the great Scooby vs. Penguins coin toss, the Penguins won. And I'm kinda glad because I don't think I have the skills do make a good Scooby.
This was my inspiration:
This is what I have so far:
I'm not going to say anything bad about because they turned out much better than I thought they would. And consider what I started out with:
Is it just me or is there something vaguely "Elvis Impersonator"-ish about it? It got better when I started to add the details:
The final cake is due on Wednesday. Until then remember, "retreating is like running away, only manlier!"
Monday, August 15, 2011
Dear Thomas Keller,
I just submitted my resume and a cover letter to the Thomas Keller Restaurant Group in hopes that it will lead to a paid externship. Thomas Keller. As in French Laundry, Ad Hoc, Per Se, Bouchon. If this doesn't impress you, you probably have no idea who he is. Google now.
I hate writing cover letters. I've never quite mastered the modern, formal, business style of writing. I feel like I either come across as painfully proper and antiquated or way too casual. Usually in these cases I write a letter that has every wrong and inappropriate thing imaginable in it, just so I can get it out of my system. Then I move on. So here's the letter I didn't send:
I hate writing cover letters. I've never quite mastered the modern, formal, business style of writing. I feel like I either come across as painfully proper and antiquated or way too casual. Usually in these cases I write a letter that has every wrong and inappropriate thing imaginable in it, just so I can get it out of my system. Then I move on. So here's the letter I didn't send:
Dear Chef Keller,
Please hire me. I know you have absolutely no cause to, and could not pick me out of a police line up if you had to (which hopefully you never will), but I still feel I am deserving of a chance to prove myself in one of your kitchens. Let me list my many fine qualities: in 9 months of study I have never once set anyone else on fire, destroyed any cookware, or lost any of my phalanges. In addition to this strict safety code I adhere to, I am well versed in actual baking and patisserie. For breads I can mix, proof, rest, and roll out with the best of them. Cake and quick bread mixing methods? I’ve mastered seven at last count. Cookies? Love them – especially for breakfast. My latest obsession is tempering chocolates to make truffles and bon bons.
Besides being a sugar junkie with a penchant for late nights and early mornings and all the hours in between, I am genuinely a fan of yours. I was enchanted before I even had the chance to dine in one of your restaurants. I fell in love during a brief fling at Bouchon in Las Vegas - sadly there was nary a fat Elvis in sight. Now I want to bring it full circle and actually work in the kitchens.
To quote Abba "take a chance on me!" Not an Abba fan? Well to paraphrase Leonard Cohen: If you want a baker, I'll do anything you ask me to. Let me in, I'm your (wo)man.
Best Regards, etc, etc
Had I actually sent that letter, it wouldn't have been the first time in my life I've torpedoed myself. It's tempting. Getting to extern at someplace like French Laundry would be akin to being a PA on a Martin Scorsese film: you get to watch a master at work. Obviously there are people who get to, but those people are never me and if I'm going to be rejected, I'd rather it be for who I really am versus a sterilized version of myself that a mid level human resources manager deems acceptably not hirable.
But hope springs eternal and I sent a more "professional" cover letter. And now the waiting for no response begins.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Aural Fixation / Goat Cheese Ice Cream
It's the dog days of summer and I ponder my goaty-ness, as DJ Sie provides cool and creamy treats for your ears:
Aural Fixation / Goat Cheese Ice Cream
Monday, August 1, 2011
Apples to Apples
I'm a Mac user and I love my Mac. But I hate the Apple Store. I didn't know what a fevered pitch of loathing I would reach for the Apple Store going in to this relationship.
For one thing, I'm not an Apple Store Mac. I'm a second hand, behind the scenes, shady deal with an actual secret handshake Mac. That's just how I roll. So I was not familiar with the sanctuary of simple and intuitive (I hate that word) computing that is an Apple Store.
But eventually, with all technology, it will come to pass that something will get screwy or need to be replaced. In this case it was my power cord adaptor. For whatever reason last Monday my computer stopped recognizing when I plugged it in with my particular adaptor. It recognized other adaptors and I was just happy I had a reasonably cheap fix. I mean, it's not like I had to replace the hard drive (again).
I could have ordered it online - it even had free shipping. But I'm a hope springs eternal kind of gal and despite past misgivings and experiences, I went to the local Apple Store to pick up a new one. (Well, truthfully I had to get a set of pastry brushes and the Apple Store was in the same location, so I thought two birds, one stone. I am so efficient! I was wrong.)
Apple Store: the word store is in the name. That implies you can buy stuff there. There are minimalistic yet sexy displays of electronics to suit your every need that will never go on sale. But no one willing to take my money.
I knew what I needed; I even brought the old cord with me to eschew any complications.
I made my approach to the temple of clean computing. One of the guards stopped me and inquired what business I had there. I showed him my old power cord and said I need a new one. He smirked, "That is old," and directed me to where the new ones are. Yes you little emo scab, it's the original but up until last week it worked, so what was the point of replacing it?
Grabbed the box and looked around. A sea of blue shirts and not a single person who would make eye contact or take my money.
Here is some hard won knowledge of the staff: they have stations that they're not supposed to leave. So I meander over to a guy and ask to pay for the new cord. He told me John would be able to help me in just a minute. "Oh where's John?" A gesture over the shoulder - that way. I'm not sure which one of the Apple automatons John is, but none of the guys over there looked like they would be ready to ring me up in "just a minute".
I smile. I step closer. "Okay. Until John can ring me up, I'm just going to hover uncomfortably close to you."
30 full seconds.
"You know, I can just take care of that for you."
And children, that is the true story of the only time in my life I have gotten out of the Apple Store in under 10 minutes.
For one thing, I'm not an Apple Store Mac. I'm a second hand, behind the scenes, shady deal with an actual secret handshake Mac. That's just how I roll. So I was not familiar with the sanctuary of simple and intuitive (I hate that word) computing that is an Apple Store.
But eventually, with all technology, it will come to pass that something will get screwy or need to be replaced. In this case it was my power cord adaptor. For whatever reason last Monday my computer stopped recognizing when I plugged it in with my particular adaptor. It recognized other adaptors and I was just happy I had a reasonably cheap fix. I mean, it's not like I had to replace the hard drive (again).
I could have ordered it online - it even had free shipping. But I'm a hope springs eternal kind of gal and despite past misgivings and experiences, I went to the local Apple Store to pick up a new one. (Well, truthfully I had to get a set of pastry brushes and the Apple Store was in the same location, so I thought two birds, one stone. I am so efficient! I was wrong.)
Apple Store: the word store is in the name. That implies you can buy stuff there. There are minimalistic yet sexy displays of electronics to suit your every need that will never go on sale. But no one willing to take my money.
I knew what I needed; I even brought the old cord with me to eschew any complications.
I made my approach to the temple of clean computing. One of the guards stopped me and inquired what business I had there. I showed him my old power cord and said I need a new one. He smirked, "That is old," and directed me to where the new ones are. Yes you little emo scab, it's the original but up until last week it worked, so what was the point of replacing it?
Grabbed the box and looked around. A sea of blue shirts and not a single person who would make eye contact or take my money.
Here is some hard won knowledge of the staff: they have stations that they're not supposed to leave. So I meander over to a guy and ask to pay for the new cord. He told me John would be able to help me in just a minute. "Oh where's John?" A gesture over the shoulder - that way. I'm not sure which one of the Apple automatons John is, but none of the guys over there looked like they would be ready to ring me up in "just a minute".
I smile. I step closer. "Okay. Until John can ring me up, I'm just going to hover uncomfortably close to you."
30 full seconds.
"You know, I can just take care of that for you."
And children, that is the true story of the only time in my life I have gotten out of the Apple Store in under 10 minutes.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Breakfast of Champions
I was originally going to title this post, 'stuff I've eaten for breakfast and you haven't', but that seemed clunky.
Here's the damning thing about the plated desserts class - at the end of class you have this (allegedly) beautiful creation and you're just supposed to toss it. It seems like such a waste - and it's breakfast time. Problem? I see only viable solutions.
Anyway, here's a photo gallery of stuff I have actually made and eaten for breakfast - recently:
Chocolate mousse and meringue cake wrapped in chocolate
Spiced and baked pineapples with brandy snap and coconut sorbet
Apple tart
Flourless chocolate cake with chocolate mousse in a chocolate cup
Lime-hazelnut meringue with chantilly cream
Poached pear with mascarpone mousse and brandy snap
I didn't eat this:
I just love it. I think it looks like a goldfish eating someone's brain. Zombie fish, attack!
Saturday, July 16, 2011
I came for the storm, but I stayed for the sun
Oh, Heathcliff! Such exquisite torment of love!
(Whoops. Wrong Heathcliff. And yet the lyrics are strangely suitable.)
I finished Wuthering Heights in case you couldn't tell. I have to admit, I fully anticipated hating the book. In fact, I was inspired to read the book after enduring a three hour Masterpiece Theater adaptation which I so thoroughly despised, I watched to the bitter end, just to see the characters suffer. So why on earth would I want to read the book after that? Because I figured that there must be some reason authors I respect (Joyce Carol Oates and Alice Hoffman among them) are so devoted to this book. And because it's kind of embarrassing that I hadn't read it yet.
So yeah, I don't hate it. I also don't find Heathcliff to be a swoon-worthy, romantic hero, but I'm not an impressionable twelve year old either. (Which brings up another interesting point and one of the reasons I love rereading books: you don't just read a book, you experience what it has to offer you at the stage of life you are in. So reading Catcher in the Rye as a forlorn and angsty teen is completely different from reading it as a reluctant, tax paying adult. It's a bit sad to think of what impression it could have made, had I read it younger, how much more I probably would have loved it. But I digress.)
I didn't realize how funny it would be. For instance:
(Whoops. Wrong Heathcliff. And yet the lyrics are strangely suitable.)
I finished Wuthering Heights in case you couldn't tell. I have to admit, I fully anticipated hating the book. In fact, I was inspired to read the book after enduring a three hour Masterpiece Theater adaptation which I so thoroughly despised, I watched to the bitter end, just to see the characters suffer. So why on earth would I want to read the book after that? Because I figured that there must be some reason authors I respect (Joyce Carol Oates and Alice Hoffman among them) are so devoted to this book. And because it's kind of embarrassing that I hadn't read it yet.
So yeah, I don't hate it. I also don't find Heathcliff to be a swoon-worthy, romantic hero, but I'm not an impressionable twelve year old either. (Which brings up another interesting point and one of the reasons I love rereading books: you don't just read a book, you experience what it has to offer you at the stage of life you are in. So reading Catcher in the Rye as a forlorn and angsty teen is completely different from reading it as a reluctant, tax paying adult. It's a bit sad to think of what impression it could have made, had I read it younger, how much more I probably would have loved it. But I digress.)
I didn't realize how funny it would be. For instance:
And, do you imagine that beautiful young lady, that healthy, hearty girl,
will tie herself to a perishing little monkey like you?
-Wuthering Heights, Volume II Chapter XIII
Perishing little monkey? That's going straight to the top of my favorite insults list. And the word slut is used at least 3 times, probably more (I just didn't bother to keep track), which feels surprisingly modern.
For all the sturm und drang the book is purported to have (the title has the word wuthering in it, a romantic, stormy word if there ever was one), it ends very light. The sins of the previous generation are absolved, the future begins fresh with the promise of a kinder, gentler love, and the parties involved walk away from the darkness of the manor and into the carefully manicured lawns of a happier society.
I have moved on to more consuming works. Lately, I have wanted to be devoured by a book. I have such fond memories of night long vigils spent crouched down next to my childhood nightlight, feverishly reading. I would usually finish the book right around dawn. Watching the light come up on the world, I always had the same thought 'Nothing will ever be the same.'
There isn't much I miss from childhood, but that I do.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Plated and Elated
Do you know what I had for breakfast this morning?
Why that would be raspberry mousse with creme anglais, raspberry coulis, and tuile cookies.
It was technically my first plating (and it seemed like such a shame to waste it, so it ended up in my belly).
It's not amazing, but it's not entirely terrible. And, though I knew it was coming, when faced with the blank plate, I froze. Completely and totally. Deer trapped in headlights had nothing on me at that moment. I'm not even sure what I was going for, because I panicked and tossed it on the plate. (You should have seen what I scrubbed off.)
I'm sure in a few weeks I will be mortified by this amateur effort. As for now, I can attest it was delicious.
Why that would be raspberry mousse with creme anglais, raspberry coulis, and tuile cookies.
It was technically my first plating (and it seemed like such a shame to waste it, so it ended up in my belly).
It's not amazing, but it's not entirely terrible. And, though I knew it was coming, when faced with the blank plate, I froze. Completely and totally. Deer trapped in headlights had nothing on me at that moment. I'm not even sure what I was going for, because I panicked and tossed it on the plate. (You should have seen what I scrubbed off.)
I'm sure in a few weeks I will be mortified by this amateur effort. As for now, I can attest it was delicious.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Once more, with feeling
And we're back to our regularly scheduled program!
Giant Corporate Cooking School: Rotation 4, Day 1
The good news, though I am still in the dreaded room of doom, is the class has been halved and lo and behold we all have elbow room. Save your breath telling me how tiny professional kitchens are (truth: the larger the kitchen the smaller the area for paying customers so most kitchens are tiny), this is a learning environment people. I need room to learn.
It was an unusual day. For one, everyone was exhausted (and possibly hungover) and it was pretty much just straight lecture. (When we finally did have to whip up some crepe batter for the crepes we're making tomorrow, everyone seemed really confused and unsure of how to proceed, like cattle put into the wrong field. This is why we shouldn't have a week off.) This go round is all about advanced pastry techniques, which is far as I can tell means we take everything we've so carefully learned how to do and deconstruct it. I'm all for destruction. I mean deconstruction.
I'm excited and intimidated. The in class Chef demos are now a jumping off point for us rather than something that needs to be faithfully recreated. While it's nice to have some room for creativity, I'm already being a bit spastic about it (how would a dark chocolate and liver truffle taste? I think it could work). How are you supposed to know where the line is, if you don't railroad right over it?
You know what else? Starting today, the end is closer than the beginning. This is the halfway point if you include the 6 week externship. If you don't, then halfway through last rotation was the halfway point. So I'm that much closer to real life grunt work. Scary, huh?
Ah, the externship. Still hanging over my head like the sword of damocles. But I wouldn't know how to function if there weren't something in life making me uneasy. (I was even supposed to meet with a career counselor to discuss it today, but, alas, she was ill. Of course I waited around for two and a half hours and didn't find out till I showed up at her office. Ahem.) Still keeping my fingers crossed for something wonderful, but prepping the safety schools so to speak.
Giant Corporate Cooking School: Rotation 4, Day 1
The good news, though I am still in the dreaded room of doom, is the class has been halved and lo and behold we all have elbow room. Save your breath telling me how tiny professional kitchens are (truth: the larger the kitchen the smaller the area for paying customers so most kitchens are tiny), this is a learning environment people. I need room to learn.
It was an unusual day. For one, everyone was exhausted (and possibly hungover) and it was pretty much just straight lecture. (When we finally did have to whip up some crepe batter for the crepes we're making tomorrow, everyone seemed really confused and unsure of how to proceed, like cattle put into the wrong field. This is why we shouldn't have a week off.) This go round is all about advanced pastry techniques, which is far as I can tell means we take everything we've so carefully learned how to do and deconstruct it. I'm all for destruction. I mean deconstruction.
I'm excited and intimidated. The in class Chef demos are now a jumping off point for us rather than something that needs to be faithfully recreated. While it's nice to have some room for creativity, I'm already being a bit spastic about it (how would a dark chocolate and liver truffle taste? I think it could work). How are you supposed to know where the line is, if you don't railroad right over it?
You know what else? Starting today, the end is closer than the beginning. This is the halfway point if you include the 6 week externship. If you don't, then halfway through last rotation was the halfway point. So I'm that much closer to real life grunt work. Scary, huh?
Ah, the externship. Still hanging over my head like the sword of damocles. But I wouldn't know how to function if there weren't something in life making me uneasy. (I was even supposed to meet with a career counselor to discuss it today, but, alas, she was ill. Of course I waited around for two and a half hours and didn't find out till I showed up at her office. Ahem.) Still keeping my fingers crossed for something wonderful, but prepping the safety schools so to speak.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Fortunate One
My fortune, according to a cookie (and you know I listen to baked goods):
TURN YOUR THOUGHTS WITHIN - FIND YOURSELF
Yeah, as if I don't spend enough time navel gazing and stuck in my own head. Stupid cookie.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Staid-cation
It's my week off, though really it's only a few precious days off because I worked Friday, Saturday, and Sunday last weekend and I'll do the same this coming weekend (plus 4th of July Monday!). I don't really know what I expected because I (willingly) hadn't made any plans to do anything, but I guess I hoped I'd be more pro-active? or something. There's stuff to be done! But I'm not doing it.
What I am doing, I'm not even sure. The hours seem to pass quickly enough, but I can't honestly account for them. I think I may have fallen too far down the internet rabbit hole.
What am I supposed to be doing? Well, for school I should be reading up on the properties of chocolate, putting together my resume, and finding someplace that will let me extern. At home I should be cleaning and (hopefully) unearthing things to sell on ebay because I have reached a level of fiscal irresponsibility I affectionately refer to as No Joke Broke. It is still illegal to sell a kidney, isn't it?
In the meantime, I have at least gotten some reading done. So far Cleave by Julie Powell, Heat by Bill Buford, and Service Included by Phoebe Damrosch have all been conquered. I've moved on to the fiction aspect of my list and am currently lost on the Yorkshire moors with Catherine and Heathcliff, which is an interesting leap from butchery and modern day restaurant service. But at the moment, Wuthering Heights seems like the perfect partner in my currently bleak mood. I only wish I had a stormy moor to wander aimlessly around.
I think what I want more than anything is to feel excited about all this stuff again, and to feel reassured. The looming prospect of the externship and all of the hopes I had pinned on it are currently suffocating me. Full confession: I was really hoping to use the externship as an excuse to get out of the country for six weeks. Lest you think I'm a slacker in want of an extended vacation, rest assured, I understand and was excited to work for it. I've never lived outside of the country and thought it would be as good chance as any to experience it and when in my life will I again have the opportunity to pack up and head off for six weeks?
And, as embarrassing as it is, I think I'm done with Los Angeles but I don't know where to go. I feel like when I moved to LA from DC I was fleeing something. For once in my life I was hoping to be running to something instead of from something. Externing aboard felt like a way to try out a future.
But you know that part I wrote about being No Joke Broke? Yeah. Externing out of the country would mean not getting paid and having to pay for transport for room and board. So as that happy prospect gets dimmer and dimmer, I'm trying to find something hopeful to rally around. Suggestions?
What I am doing, I'm not even sure. The hours seem to pass quickly enough, but I can't honestly account for them. I think I may have fallen too far down the internet rabbit hole.
What am I supposed to be doing? Well, for school I should be reading up on the properties of chocolate, putting together my resume, and finding someplace that will let me extern. At home I should be cleaning and (hopefully) unearthing things to sell on ebay because I have reached a level of fiscal irresponsibility I affectionately refer to as No Joke Broke. It is still illegal to sell a kidney, isn't it?
In the meantime, I have at least gotten some reading done. So far Cleave by Julie Powell, Heat by Bill Buford, and Service Included by Phoebe Damrosch have all been conquered. I've moved on to the fiction aspect of my list and am currently lost on the Yorkshire moors with Catherine and Heathcliff, which is an interesting leap from butchery and modern day restaurant service. But at the moment, Wuthering Heights seems like the perfect partner in my currently bleak mood. I only wish I had a stormy moor to wander aimlessly around.
I think what I want more than anything is to feel excited about all this stuff again, and to feel reassured. The looming prospect of the externship and all of the hopes I had pinned on it are currently suffocating me. Full confession: I was really hoping to use the externship as an excuse to get out of the country for six weeks. Lest you think I'm a slacker in want of an extended vacation, rest assured, I understand and was excited to work for it. I've never lived outside of the country and thought it would be as good chance as any to experience it and when in my life will I again have the opportunity to pack up and head off for six weeks?
And, as embarrassing as it is, I think I'm done with Los Angeles but I don't know where to go. I feel like when I moved to LA from DC I was fleeing something. For once in my life I was hoping to be running to something instead of from something. Externing aboard felt like a way to try out a future.
But you know that part I wrote about being No Joke Broke? Yeah. Externing out of the country would mean not getting paid and having to pay for transport for room and board. So as that happy prospect gets dimmer and dimmer, I'm trying to find something hopeful to rally around. Suggestions?
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
O.V.E.R.
People, it is DONE. The class from hell is over. Just like that.
And I have a week off. It's my "summer". I plan to enjoy it: reading and swimming in the ocean, here I come.
It's a brief reprieve; after next week is up, it's back to the grind: same chefs, same despicable room, same horrifying polyester pants. Same almost having to shiv someone for a mixer and an outlet.
And with that terrifyingly piped monstrosity (go ahead and hate on it, it is not my proudest accomplishment but getting graded on that thing meant the class was OVER), I was done. At 6:30 in the morning, no less.. I had to stay in class till nine, cleaning and pretending to be busy, which is something I'm getting really good at.
There's no point in dreading what comes next, it's better to just enjoy what's here now.
(The Final Part 1 - Strassburger Cookies
Why yes the class was International Cakes,
so why I had to make cookies is a mystery of the universe)
And I have a week off. It's my "summer". I plan to enjoy it: reading and swimming in the ocean, here I come.
(The Final Part 2 - Macarons
Which are, yes, a cookie but I love them.
And stuffed with Chocolate French Buttercream?
Heaven.)
It's a brief reprieve; after next week is up, it's back to the grind: same chefs, same despicable room, same horrifying polyester pants. Same almost having to shiv someone for a mixer and an outlet.
(The Final Part 3 - 3 Chocolate Bavarios
Hey look! An actual cake.)
There's no point in dreading what comes next, it's better to just enjoy what's here now.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Aural Fixation / Summer Berry Sour Cream Pancakes
Aural Fixation / Summer Berry Sour Cream Pancakes
As if you needed a reason to eat pancakes and dance your ass off.
As if you needed a reason to eat pancakes and dance your ass off.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Cake is Great! I (heart) Cake!!!!
Giant Corporate Cooking School Rotation 3, Week 4, Day 2
This is called reverse psychology. I have spent so much time reveling in my hatred and loathing of this class that it's probably poisoning me against what's good about it. So as of right now, I lovelovelove it!
Or not. But I'm trying.
One thing I do love unabashedly is iRip, a program that lets you take music from iPods and rip them onto your computer. Before you compose your strongly worded letters telling me what a terrible person I am, how musicians are going to starve and all the good ones will stop making music and pretty soon the only choices anyone will have will be between Taylor Swift and American Idol finalists - hear me out. I actually buy music through legitimate sources and up until two years ago had a huge CD collection dating from my nascent Pearl Jam heavy formative years.
But having moved multiple times - including having to pay to ship all of them cross country once - I decided enough! Everything was in my iTunes anyway, so why not just sell the hard copies for profit and delight in having less shit to care about. And I did.
Then my hard drive gave me an early birthday present this year by deciding I should start over from go and went to that Apple graveyard in the, well wherever the my computer geek guru decides it is.
You would think a complete loss of my digital life would be traumatic, but surprisingly I took it in stride. (I say surprisingly because I'm still surprised how easily I took the news. I expect I will have a complete breakdown about it at some point, complete with gnashing of teeth, sobbing, and tearing of flesh.) The only thing that really broke my heart was losing all of the music. Except I had most of it on my old PC laptop and I figured eventually I would figure out how to get it from the PC to my freshly purchased Mac hard drive.
And iRip is how I'm doing it. I'm sure there are easier and quicker ways to go about this, but I'm never gonna be hired by the geek squad and I've always liked hitting my head against a wall to make sure it's solid. So away I go!
The benefit so far is rediscovering albums that had been put on the back burner behind newer, shinier albums - albums I would listen to on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis back when I had idle time to do such things. Albums that are specific to phases, years, people, places. It's like going to a high school reunion but I genuinely love everyone and no one got fat. I'm currently listening to the Rushmore soundtrack, and while I think Wes Anderson can be a too precious, self-important weinie, the man does know how to put together a soundtrack.
In fact, I think the class would be much improved if Wes Anderson made a soundtrack for it. (Sidenote: Almost everyone I know loves and owns the Rushmore soundtrack, but while most people like the Royal Tenenbaums, I don't know a single person who owns that soundtrack. Why is that?) Maybe if I spend the next 12 weekdays pretending I'm in a Wes Anderson movie, I will actually end up liking the class.
I'm guess I'm going to have to start wearing thick, black eyeliner and perfecting my deadpan.
This is called reverse psychology. I have spent so much time reveling in my hatred and loathing of this class that it's probably poisoning me against what's good about it. So as of right now, I lovelovelove it!
Or not. But I'm trying.
One thing I do love unabashedly is iRip, a program that lets you take music from iPods and rip them onto your computer. Before you compose your strongly worded letters telling me what a terrible person I am, how musicians are going to starve and all the good ones will stop making music and pretty soon the only choices anyone will have will be between Taylor Swift and American Idol finalists - hear me out. I actually buy music through legitimate sources and up until two years ago had a huge CD collection dating from my nascent Pearl Jam heavy formative years.
But having moved multiple times - including having to pay to ship all of them cross country once - I decided enough! Everything was in my iTunes anyway, so why not just sell the hard copies for profit and delight in having less shit to care about. And I did.
Then my hard drive gave me an early birthday present this year by deciding I should start over from go and went to that Apple graveyard in the, well wherever the my computer geek guru decides it is.
You would think a complete loss of my digital life would be traumatic, but surprisingly I took it in stride. (I say surprisingly because I'm still surprised how easily I took the news. I expect I will have a complete breakdown about it at some point, complete with gnashing of teeth, sobbing, and tearing of flesh.) The only thing that really broke my heart was losing all of the music. Except I had most of it on my old PC laptop and I figured eventually I would figure out how to get it from the PC to my freshly purchased Mac hard drive.
And iRip is how I'm doing it. I'm sure there are easier and quicker ways to go about this, but I'm never gonna be hired by the geek squad and I've always liked hitting my head against a wall to make sure it's solid. So away I go!
The benefit so far is rediscovering albums that had been put on the back burner behind newer, shinier albums - albums I would listen to on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis back when I had idle time to do such things. Albums that are specific to phases, years, people, places. It's like going to a high school reunion but I genuinely love everyone and no one got fat. I'm currently listening to the Rushmore soundtrack, and while I think Wes Anderson can be a too precious, self-important weinie, the man does know how to put together a soundtrack.
In fact, I think the class would be much improved if Wes Anderson made a soundtrack for it. (Sidenote: Almost everyone I know loves and owns the Rushmore soundtrack, but while most people like the Royal Tenenbaums, I don't know a single person who owns that soundtrack. Why is that?) Maybe if I spend the next 12 weekdays pretending I'm in a Wes Anderson movie, I will actually end up liking the class.
I'm guess I'm going to have to start wearing thick, black eyeliner and perfecting my deadpan.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Who wants cake?
Giant Corporate Cooking School: Rotation 3, Week 3, Day 4:
Cakes. Gateaus. Tortens. Whatever you want to call them, I am three weeks into a pretty serious study of them. Don't get me wrong, I like cake and the class is very informative. It's the whole decorating thing that I'm not too sure about. Fortunately, it's mostly been French style gateaus, so I have not had to break out my mad rosette piping skillz yet. Yet.
I'll admit, I'm having a hard time with the class. I'm okay with the product, and I think I'm fine on the written exams and the homework. The real problem is the lab we're working in - I hate it. Detest it. Loathe it. Abhor it. It is currently the bane of my existence, an anathema, my bete noire. (What? I've been making French cakes, why not break out the Francais?) But don't think I've come to this rancorous reaction lightly, I've thought long and hard about what I find so grievous about it.
BEEF #1: It's crowded. Waaaay back in February when this adventure began, there were about 30 of us. So timid, so shy, so unsure of mixing methods. Then for the second rotation, we were halved. For this rotation, we've all been stitched back together like the big, dysfunctional family we are and then some. So now there are now 40+ people crammed in a single lab. Which leads directly to
BEEF #2: There's not enough equipment. It's early. I've rarely had a cup of coffee or breakfast prior to class starting. Being there on time means that I have scraped myself out of a warm, comfortable bed, stuffed myself into polyester pants, and driven across LA county; I don't want to shiv someone for a freaking mixer. Not that it would matter if I could get one of the precious few, because THERE AREN'T ENOUGH OUTLETS TO SUPPORT THEM ALL. I know what anyone at the school would say if I whined (and yes, I know I'm whining) about this: "In a professional environment, you may not have all the tools you need..." In a professional environment there won't be forty sleep deprived sugar junkies using kitchen aids ALL AT THE SAME TIME. That's why industrial mixers exist, duh.
BEEF #3: The layout sucks. Maybe I got spoiled, my first two rotations were in the new building. Convection ovens as far as the eye could see. In this lab (in the, shall we say, less new building), there are four convection ovens and I stand next to two of them. Now, there are plenty of conventional ovens - you know, the kind you have in your kitchen - but for some reason my classmates seem to believe that the convects have magical cake fortifying powers because they all want to cram themselves in the narrow walkway between the prep table and the oven and shove their cakes in those two particular ovens. I don't know why either*, I use the conventional ovens.
BEEF #4: It's either 100 degrees or 40. And I'm wearing polyester pants, people, which manage to retain the heat when it's hot and lose it the millisecond the temperature drops. They're magical.
And finally, BEEF #5: The hood. Professional ranges have hoods which are giant vents to keep the air circulation going. Not only does it drop the temperature 40 degrees when it's turned on, but it's like standing next to an airplane ready for take off. The scary thing is how quickly I stop noticing the noise. In fact, after the initial jolt of it, I don't notice it until it's not there anymore and the quiet that follows it being shut off is so huge, it's deafening. There's almost no point in complaining about it, it's a fucking fact of life for anyone in a professional kitchen.
And the real problem I have with the class? All the reasons above are really just convenient excuses to hide behind. I just don't like it and I haven't figured out why yet. I dread going to school. As hard as it is to believe, I used to happily get up at 3:30 in the morning to study before class and now I'm bargaining with time at 4:45 to slow down. No one wins bargaining with time. It's making me question if I've made a huge mistake. Aren't pastry chefs supposed to love cake? Isn't that the first thing you think of when you hear someone say they're a pastry chef/baker? Because you know who wants cake? THEY ALL DO. They all want cake.
I think I may have fucked myself. Again.
*Okay, okay I admit I know why people fight for the convection ovens: convention ovens have fans, so the heat is evenly dispersed throughout the oven which does make for more even baking. Conventional ovens generally have a hot spot, which can cause uneven baking. But it's really not that serious.
Cakes. Gateaus. Tortens. Whatever you want to call them, I am three weeks into a pretty serious study of them. Don't get me wrong, I like cake and the class is very informative. It's the whole decorating thing that I'm not too sure about. Fortunately, it's mostly been French style gateaus, so I have not had to break out my mad rosette piping skillz yet. Yet.
I'll admit, I'm having a hard time with the class. I'm okay with the product, and I think I'm fine on the written exams and the homework. The real problem is the lab we're working in - I hate it. Detest it. Loathe it. Abhor it. It is currently the bane of my existence, an anathema, my bete noire. (What? I've been making French cakes, why not break out the Francais?) But don't think I've come to this rancorous reaction lightly, I've thought long and hard about what I find so grievous about it.
BEEF #1: It's crowded. Waaaay back in February when this adventure began, there were about 30 of us. So timid, so shy, so unsure of mixing methods. Then for the second rotation, we were halved. For this rotation, we've all been stitched back together like the big, dysfunctional family we are and then some. So now there are now 40+ people crammed in a single lab. Which leads directly to
BEEF #2: There's not enough equipment. It's early. I've rarely had a cup of coffee or breakfast prior to class starting. Being there on time means that I have scraped myself out of a warm, comfortable bed, stuffed myself into polyester pants, and driven across LA county; I don't want to shiv someone for a freaking mixer. Not that it would matter if I could get one of the precious few, because THERE AREN'T ENOUGH OUTLETS TO SUPPORT THEM ALL. I know what anyone at the school would say if I whined (and yes, I know I'm whining) about this: "In a professional environment, you may not have all the tools you need..." In a professional environment there won't be forty sleep deprived sugar junkies using kitchen aids ALL AT THE SAME TIME. That's why industrial mixers exist, duh.
BEEF #3: The layout sucks. Maybe I got spoiled, my first two rotations were in the new building. Convection ovens as far as the eye could see. In this lab (in the, shall we say, less new building), there are four convection ovens and I stand next to two of them. Now, there are plenty of conventional ovens - you know, the kind you have in your kitchen - but for some reason my classmates seem to believe that the convects have magical cake fortifying powers because they all want to cram themselves in the narrow walkway between the prep table and the oven and shove their cakes in those two particular ovens. I don't know why either*, I use the conventional ovens.
BEEF #4: It's either 100 degrees or 40. And I'm wearing polyester pants, people, which manage to retain the heat when it's hot and lose it the millisecond the temperature drops. They're magical.
And finally, BEEF #5: The hood. Professional ranges have hoods which are giant vents to keep the air circulation going. Not only does it drop the temperature 40 degrees when it's turned on, but it's like standing next to an airplane ready for take off. The scary thing is how quickly I stop noticing the noise. In fact, after the initial jolt of it, I don't notice it until it's not there anymore and the quiet that follows it being shut off is so huge, it's deafening. There's almost no point in complaining about it, it's a fucking fact of life for anyone in a professional kitchen.
And the real problem I have with the class? All the reasons above are really just convenient excuses to hide behind. I just don't like it and I haven't figured out why yet. I dread going to school. As hard as it is to believe, I used to happily get up at 3:30 in the morning to study before class and now I'm bargaining with time at 4:45 to slow down. No one wins bargaining with time. It's making me question if I've made a huge mistake. Aren't pastry chefs supposed to love cake? Isn't that the first thing you think of when you hear someone say they're a pastry chef/baker? Because you know who wants cake? THEY ALL DO. They all want cake.
I think I may have fucked myself. Again.
*Okay, okay I admit I know why people fight for the convection ovens: convention ovens have fans, so the heat is evenly dispersed throughout the oven which does make for more even baking. Conventional ovens generally have a hot spot, which can cause uneven baking. But it's really not that serious.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Aural Fixation/Alfajores
My roommate Sierra is cooler than me. It's just a fact. She's in the know about, seemingly, everything. So when she proposed that we combine our evil powers and contribute a food/music themed post to the exceptionally awesome Tadpole Audio blog, I was flattered. And I said yes.
So here's our second post! In honor of Cinco de Mayo (it's never too early to start usurping a culturally significant holiday and turning it into a day of excessive drinking and silly hats - St. Patrick's Day what?!), I make the buttery, caramelly and all around addictive Alfajores and Sierra makes a playlist worthy of your next trip to Cabo. Even if it's only a mental trip. Check it out!
(The first post went unheralded around these parts, because I, umm, forgot. Yup. Maybe that's why I am not cool, or in the know - because sometimes I don't pay attention. But you should read it, here.)
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
A Roundup
†
How-dee Partner!
It's been a while since I've posted anything of substance, so I thought I'd give a little roundup of what's going on at the Noms Away headquarters.
Life at the Giant Corporate Cooking School is going along swimmingly. We're moving from lean yeast doughs to rich and laminated doughs (croissants, danishes, ect.). I haven't screwed up too badly, although I have screwed up. Note to self, if the butter block you're incorporating into dough is a square shape, then the dough itself should be squarish instead of amoeba.
In other news, I have been on a quest for pho and am being thwarted at every turn. Yes, I know that the truly amazing pho is in east LA, but I live in west LA and already spend too much freaking time in my car. Besides, there's completely acceptable pho in west LA. First I went to a place that had online reviews rating its pho only to find out they hadn't served it in a year. (Side note: a fried egg sandwich will not cure your craving for pho.) Next I ended up at a place that had pho but not pho tom (SHRIMP!!). So I got the house pho which was beef, beef balls, brisket, steak, tripe, and tendon. It was okay, but not exactly what I had been craving. Finally I got to a place that had pho tom and indulged in a huge bowl. It hit all the right notes and I left satisfied. So much so that when I woke up Tuesday with a scratchy throat and a queasy stomach I knew exactly what would cure me. Post class I fought traffic and drove directly there, visions of noodles and steaming broth sustaining me.
Sometimes I forget how early I get up and how early it still is for the rest of the world when I get out of class. 10am is well within business hours but arguably early for lunch. Pho is a breakfast food though! Too bad the restaurant didn't agree with me. CLOSED. And I realized this after I fed the meter for an hour.
I try really hard not to get pissy about stuff like that, shit happens. But feeling ill, going out of my way... There may have been tears.
There's a cute little Korean food/tea place near my house, and they also serve ramen. Which isn't pho, but it fell within my craving for sickness banishing broth and noodle goodness. Since I was going to have to pass it anyway, I popped in. After I read the menu and decided on what I wanted and got my hopes up, I was informed that they were closed for another half hour. I was nice to the lady behind the counter - she's just the messenger after all. But there were definitely tears in the car.
How badly did I need some form soup curative? I stopped in the corner market and bought two packs of Nissan's Oodles of Noodles. Yes, the noodles of 1000mg of sodium and with nothing natural in it at all. And I paid $.89 per packet, which is like 5 times what you would normally pay for that.
I don't regret it. I may have bought two more, just in case of emergencies.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
Back to the Grind (GCCS Round 2, Day 1)
So my epic week of epicness is over. It's back to early morning wake up calls, long drives, and cookies for breakfast. I may need an intervention on the last one.
You know what's sick? I really missed it. Well not so much the waking up and being out of bed by 4am, but the rest of it. Part of it is that I've-done-something post class glow. (And it gives my schedule more structure, which is something I've spent my adult life avoiding but is strangely liberating.) Which is kind of b.s. because I did a ton of stuff on my week off. I went hiking three times, stand up paddle boarding once, to tea twice, to the Rodarte exhibit at the MOCA. And that's just the stuff I left my house to do. My living room got re-imagined, my bedroom is sort of clean, I started a wild yeast starter (and a second dorky blog about it: dough-verload.blogspot.com), and - of course - there was baking. I actually start to get twitchy if I go more than a few days without sticking something in an oven.
Maybe it's being able to hide behind doing something that is socially acceptable. It turns out that other people have a hard time sharing in my happiness and that my facebook updates regarding my epic week of epicness were somewhat off putting to some of my "friends". Oh, nobody said anything to me personally. Why would they? We don't live in an honest society, but one bound by social niceties. Which in this case is fine. What would someone say anyway - I'm a petty, jealous asshat who can't stand that you're not a miserable cesspool of self-loathing like me? I get it on some level; I am certainly personally acquainted with the green eyed monster myself. But even in the depths of my depression, I could appreciate and genuinely be happy for something wonderful, or even something good, happening to someone I love. And I have a big, stupid heart. Despite my prickly exterior, I really and truly love a lot of people.
It bothered me more than I'd like to admit, to hear that someone I consider a friend would begrudge me any modicum of happiness I've found. A year ago - and I say this without any hyperbole or melodrama - I couldn't see the point of anything. I was beginning to question why I should keep taking up space at all. And then I decided to go for broke and found something I am passionate about, something fulfilling, something that does indeed make me happy. It's not like I have the lion's share of happiness in the world, people. Me being happy does not take happiness away from you. And I am certainly not without fear or worry. Yeah, my rent is paid this month, but acquiring 30k worth of debt and being marginally employed does not make for the rosiest of financial outlooks.
But after a full 24 hours of mulling this over, I have come to this conclusion: I'm saddened by it, but I accept it and this ultimately has no impact on my life at all, so I'm kicking it out of my brain. My ego was slighted but my will is not. And I'll still have love and affection for the asshats (having been one myself for so long). As the Buddha says,
Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.
I suppose adding so suck on that haters would completely defy the point of any of this. Damn, this compassion thing is hard.
You know what's sick? I really missed it. Well not so much the waking up and being out of bed by 4am, but the rest of it. Part of it is that I've-done-something post class glow. (And it gives my schedule more structure, which is something I've spent my adult life avoiding but is strangely liberating.) Which is kind of b.s. because I did a ton of stuff on my week off. I went hiking three times, stand up paddle boarding once, to tea twice, to the Rodarte exhibit at the MOCA. And that's just the stuff I left my house to do. My living room got re-imagined, my bedroom is sort of clean, I started a wild yeast starter (and a second dorky blog about it: dough-verload.blogspot.com), and - of course - there was baking. I actually start to get twitchy if I go more than a few days without sticking something in an oven.
Maybe it's being able to hide behind doing something that is socially acceptable. It turns out that other people have a hard time sharing in my happiness and that my facebook updates regarding my epic week of epicness were somewhat off putting to some of my "friends". Oh, nobody said anything to me personally. Why would they? We don't live in an honest society, but one bound by social niceties. Which in this case is fine. What would someone say anyway - I'm a petty, jealous asshat who can't stand that you're not a miserable cesspool of self-loathing like me? I get it on some level; I am certainly personally acquainted with the green eyed monster myself. But even in the depths of my depression, I could appreciate and genuinely be happy for something wonderful, or even something good, happening to someone I love. And I have a big, stupid heart. Despite my prickly exterior, I really and truly love a lot of people.
It bothered me more than I'd like to admit, to hear that someone I consider a friend would begrudge me any modicum of happiness I've found. A year ago - and I say this without any hyperbole or melodrama - I couldn't see the point of anything. I was beginning to question why I should keep taking up space at all. And then I decided to go for broke and found something I am passionate about, something fulfilling, something that does indeed make me happy. It's not like I have the lion's share of happiness in the world, people. Me being happy does not take happiness away from you. And I am certainly not without fear or worry. Yeah, my rent is paid this month, but acquiring 30k worth of debt and being marginally employed does not make for the rosiest of financial outlooks.
But after a full 24 hours of mulling this over, I have come to this conclusion: I'm saddened by it, but I accept it and this ultimately has no impact on my life at all, so I'm kicking it out of my brain. My ego was slighted but my will is not. And I'll still have love and affection for the asshats (having been one myself for so long). As the Buddha says,
Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.
I suppose adding so suck on that haters would completely defy the point of any of this. Damn, this compassion thing is hard.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Epic.
How good do I feel right now?
So good.
I've decided to celebrate Spring Break by making it an Epic Week of Epicness. Yesterday I went on a four mile hike in Malibu, and found a waterfall, the burned out ruins of a mansion, a statuary, and the oldest stone structure in the 'Bu.
Sometimes living in Los Angeles amazes me. For all the megalopolis urban sprawl, there are places of absolute solitude. (Knowing that doesn't make being stuck on the 405 at rush hour any easier though.)
So good.
I've decided to celebrate Spring Break by making it an Epic Week of Epicness. Yesterday I went on a four mile hike in Malibu, and found a waterfall, the burned out ruins of a mansion, a statuary, and the oldest stone structure in the 'Bu.
Sometimes living in Los Angeles amazes me. For all the megalopolis urban sprawl, there are places of absolute solitude. (Knowing that doesn't make being stuck on the 405 at rush hour any easier though.)
The trail I followed is called Solstice Canyon/Sun Ridge Trail. You can read about it on one of my new favorite websites Modern Hiker.
As for today? There's more epicness to be had.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
GCCS - Day 28
My final practical exam for my intro to baking and patisserie. Aced it. And my food safety and sanitation class? Aced as well. Plus I am now officially a certified food handler. And? (There's still more good news?? Hell yes!)
Spring break.
A whole week of not getting up at 3:30 in the morning, of not driving an hour away, of not worrying about over or under creaming batter. What am I going to do with myself?!?
Something tells me I'll find a way to fill the days.
For the beginners... and those who are moving on.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Here comes the lemon
I woke up (late) to the monsoon still raging from last night, encountered a bad accident on the freeway, and screwed up every single stage of a lemon chiffon pie (points for consistency, right?).
But the pie actually came together nicely, and the sun came out. So I got to eat a slice for lunch sitting outside.
(And then I ate two more, but that's a story for another time.)
I thought I'd celebrate the temporary (according to weather.com) break in crap weather by posting my favorite Beatle (George *swoon*) playing my favorite Beatles song:
Bonus, the porn-y 70's soft focus totally makes you feel stoned!
But the pie actually came together nicely, and the sun came out. So I got to eat a slice for lunch sitting outside.
(And then I ate two more, but that's a story for another time.)
I thought I'd celebrate the temporary (according to weather.com) break in crap weather by posting my favorite Beatle (George *swoon*) playing my favorite Beatles song:
Bonus, the porn-y 70's soft focus totally makes you feel stoned!
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Fuck Cake
Believe it or not people, you have to specialize when you're a pastry chef. That's right, the person that makes amazing cookies is not the person who decorates wedding cakes and wedding cakers don't make good bread as a general rule.
I already know I want to make bread. Yeast and flour and proofing, oh my!
But, while I know this, I still have to learn other pastry disciplines. I want to be a well rounded pastry chef (in addition to my expanding waistline). Plus the Giant Corporate Cooking School curriculum dictates that I have to and since I'm paying for it, I might as well.
Today we made cakes. Eventually I will have to go through an entire six week course on cakes, but this was an introduction - make a 6" cake, cut three layers, fill, and decorate it like a birthday cake for a girly girl in 1987. Okay, those were not the specific instruction, but there were lots of rosettes and shells and hot pink icing. It's not that it was hard, just exacting.
And you know what? I fucking hate cake decorating. I do not have the eye, steady hand, or patience for that kind of detail work.
Surprisingly, it didn't turn out quite as terrible as I hoped. I wish I had a picture, but at the end of class - after presenting, of course - I punch it and threw it out.
Yay, catharsis.
The most amazing thing of all? I was using a serrated knife all day and didn't cut myself once.
I already know I want to make bread. Yeast and flour and proofing, oh my!
But, while I know this, I still have to learn other pastry disciplines. I want to be a well rounded pastry chef (in addition to my expanding waistline). Plus the Giant Corporate Cooking School curriculum dictates that I have to and since I'm paying for it, I might as well.
Today we made cakes. Eventually I will have to go through an entire six week course on cakes, but this was an introduction - make a 6" cake, cut three layers, fill, and decorate it like a birthday cake for a girly girl in 1987. Okay, those were not the specific instruction, but there were lots of rosettes and shells and hot pink icing. It's not that it was hard, just exacting.
And you know what? I fucking hate cake decorating. I do not have the eye, steady hand, or patience for that kind of detail work.
Surprisingly, it didn't turn out quite as terrible as I hoped. I wish I had a picture, but at the end of class - after presenting, of course - I punch it and threw it out.
Yay, catharsis.
The most amazing thing of all? I was using a serrated knife all day and didn't cut myself once.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Dough-verload Redux
Croissants. Chocolate Croissants. Apple Turnovers. Buttermilk Biscuits. Cheese phyllo puffs.
I feel like I've used enough butter today to grease a rusted out piece of machinery left exposed to the elements for a century into working order. So. Much. Butter.
I think I'm most proud of the croissants; most bakeries don't even make their own because it's such a process. Here they are all racked up and proofed and about to go in the oven:
Boxed up and ready to go:
It's a lot of freaking croissants. But here's the one I introduced to my belly:
I feel like I've used enough butter today to grease a rusted out piece of machinery left exposed to the elements for a century into working order. So. Much. Butter.
I think I'm most proud of the croissants; most bakeries don't even make their own because it's such a process. Here they are all racked up and proofed and about to go in the oven:
And the chocolate croissants:
It's a lot of freaking croissants. But here's the one I introduced to my belly:
Monday, March 7, 2011
Oh yeah, this is a food blog
Behold my weekend creation:
What is it? Baked not-mac and cheese. That's right, I got all the fixings for straight up Fannie Farmer baked mac and cheese but I forgot the macaroni. You would think it would be pretty hard to forget such a key component of the dish, but you would be wrong. So I substituted a head of cauliflower that was quickly seeing its better days and a bunch of kale. The result? Pretty good actually, although it may be the worst of both worlds.
Here's what I mean: It's not exactly the indulgent carb and cheese fest I was craving, and the healthful taste of the cauliflower and kale belie the smothering of butter and cheese. So it tastes like it's good for me, but it's not and it doesn't satisfy my craving for cheese and pasta even though it should. Hence a quite tasty yet unsatisfying dish.
That hasn't stopped me from eating it, of course. Waste not, want not.
What is it? Baked not-mac and cheese. That's right, I got all the fixings for straight up Fannie Farmer baked mac and cheese but I forgot the macaroni. You would think it would be pretty hard to forget such a key component of the dish, but you would be wrong. So I substituted a head of cauliflower that was quickly seeing its better days and a bunch of kale. The result? Pretty good actually, although it may be the worst of both worlds.
Here's what I mean: It's not exactly the indulgent carb and cheese fest I was craving, and the healthful taste of the cauliflower and kale belie the smothering of butter and cheese. So it tastes like it's good for me, but it's not and it doesn't satisfy my craving for cheese and pasta even though it should. Hence a quite tasty yet unsatisfying dish.
That hasn't stopped me from eating it, of course. Waste not, want not.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Woe is me. Whoa.
If there is a single word that could describe this week it would be ugh - UGH - which isn't even really a word, more of a grunt of frustration.
The stupid injury inventory is ever rising and currently being displayed on both my hands (including two fresh sugar burns in addition to my many cuts, nicks, and bruises), I'm getting frustrated with my classmates, and I feel like a slug. I have a written and practical exam on Monday, a quiz on Tuesday and I have no idea when I'm going to have time to study BECAUSE
I officially started my job as a wine wench this weekend. That's right ladies and gents, you will now find me in scenic Malibu on the weekends pouring wine tastings and talking shit. Now, I can BS with the best of them - just give me a subject - and I genuinely like and drink wine. But the winery I'm working for had run a Groupon (which I also love and have used many times) and people being the way they are, the majority waited until this weekend - the weekend it expires - to redeem it.
It was a very trial by fire way to start. I'm proud to say I ran with it. I was not the weakest link. And truthfully, it really wasn't that bad. People generally tend to be in a good mood when getting a deal and drinking vino in the beautiful Santa Monica foothills. But damn, I was exhausted by the time I got home. Everything I was going to do last night? Well, technically I'm supposed to be doing it right now. And the stuff I was going to do this morning anyway? I guess it will get done, eventually.
I am a little worried about both exams on Monday. I haven't been keeping up with the reading, so now I'm behind and I haven't studied conversions since the last exam. The practical is chocolate chip muffins and pastry cream - both of which I had trouble with in class. My muffins were overmixed and spread with all the chips sinking to the bottom, and my pastry cream was runny. The pastry cream will be used on Tuesday for a fruit tart, so if it's not thick enough I'm doubly screwed.
So deep breath. And if it really sucks, I now have access to a lot of good wine.
The stupid injury inventory is ever rising and currently being displayed on both my hands (including two fresh sugar burns in addition to my many cuts, nicks, and bruises), I'm getting frustrated with my classmates, and I feel like a slug. I have a written and practical exam on Monday, a quiz on Tuesday and I have no idea when I'm going to have time to study BECAUSE
I officially started my job as a wine wench this weekend. That's right ladies and gents, you will now find me in scenic Malibu on the weekends pouring wine tastings and talking shit. Now, I can BS with the best of them - just give me a subject - and I genuinely like and drink wine. But the winery I'm working for had run a Groupon (which I also love and have used many times) and people being the way they are, the majority waited until this weekend - the weekend it expires - to redeem it.
It was a very trial by fire way to start. I'm proud to say I ran with it. I was not the weakest link. And truthfully, it really wasn't that bad. People generally tend to be in a good mood when getting a deal and drinking vino in the beautiful Santa Monica foothills. But damn, I was exhausted by the time I got home. Everything I was going to do last night? Well, technically I'm supposed to be doing it right now. And the stuff I was going to do this morning anyway? I guess it will get done, eventually.
I am a little worried about both exams on Monday. I haven't been keeping up with the reading, so now I'm behind and I haven't studied conversions since the last exam. The practical is chocolate chip muffins and pastry cream - both of which I had trouble with in class. My muffins were overmixed and spread with all the chips sinking to the bottom, and my pastry cream was runny. The pastry cream will be used on Tuesday for a fruit tart, so if it's not thick enough I'm doubly screwed.
So deep breath. And if it really sucks, I now have access to a lot of good wine.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Have you ever woken up completely displaced?
I just woke up thinking it was 6 a.m., not p.m. and nearly started crying because I thought I had missed class.
I'm having a really hard time adjusting to the schedule. I feel tired all the time, I'm in a constant state of panic because there's so much to do and I have no energy to do it. I get out of class around 11 a.m. and the day stretches before me and then the next thing I know entire hours have disappeared and nothing has been done.
Every single morning my first thought is I can't do this.
But then I do. And I'm really liking my class. Once I'm actually at my station, prepping for the day, I'm fine - excited even. I'm learning so much and actually enjoying it.
It's not just the early wake up call; it's that I haven't figured out the rest of my schedule either. I used to exercise every day and since I've started school (two and half weeks ago), I've exercised maybe twice. I can't figure out when I should be eating, so I eat all the time, and typically it's whatever baked good I've made, so I'm not eating exactly healthy.
The weird schedule, the lack of sleep and exercise, and the bad eating habits have combined to make me a neurotic ball of emotion. It's compounded by the fact that I know it's temporary, but 33 and half weeks seems like forever away. (This must be the way a pregnant woman in the throes of morning sickness feels, yes it will stop - eventually. But eventually ain't coming soon enough.)
I will survive this, I will even thrive once I get used to it. Until then I'll be the one who just randomly falls asleep and wakes up crying.
I'm having a really hard time adjusting to the schedule. I feel tired all the time, I'm in a constant state of panic because there's so much to do and I have no energy to do it. I get out of class around 11 a.m. and the day stretches before me and then the next thing I know entire hours have disappeared and nothing has been done.
Every single morning my first thought is I can't do this.
But then I do. And I'm really liking my class. Once I'm actually at my station, prepping for the day, I'm fine - excited even. I'm learning so much and actually enjoying it.
It's not just the early wake up call; it's that I haven't figured out the rest of my schedule either. I used to exercise every day and since I've started school (two and half weeks ago), I've exercised maybe twice. I can't figure out when I should be eating, so I eat all the time, and typically it's whatever baked good I've made, so I'm not eating exactly healthy.
The weird schedule, the lack of sleep and exercise, and the bad eating habits have combined to make me a neurotic ball of emotion. It's compounded by the fact that I know it's temporary, but 33 and half weeks seems like forever away. (This must be the way a pregnant woman in the throes of morning sickness feels, yes it will stop - eventually. But eventually ain't coming soon enough.)
I will survive this, I will even thrive once I get used to it. Until then I'll be the one who just randomly falls asleep and wakes up crying.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Dough-verload (GCCS - Day 8)
Biscotti. Buttermilk biscuits. Pie crusts. Focaccia. Brioche. Spicy crackers.
I feel like I've been covered in flour, sugar, and water all day.
I feel like I've been covered in flour, sugar, and water all day.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
I think I'm paranoid
GCCS - Day 7
Attending Giant Corporate Cooking School is making me fat and paranoid. Fat because I routinely eat what I make in class for breakfast, which has been cookies, cookies, cookies. I am getting fucking sick of cookies - and yet I keep eating them. I am hereby making a new rule: no cookies for breakfast. For at least a week.
I don't mean for it to happen that way, but 3:30 is early. And I'm not so hot in the mornings. It's amazing I remember to put on pants, you think I'm going to eat breakfast? By the time class is over, I've been awake for six hours and have probably only had some water. It leads to a nasty habit of me diving head first into whatever it is I've created and emerging minutes later covered in crumbs with my eyes glazing over. The sugar rush is pretty short lived and this might explain my narcoleptic tendencies.
Paranoid because I'm also taking a food safety and sanitation class. Apparently no amount of hand-washing will ever be enough and no contaminate is too unlikely. Do you even want to know the amount of neurotoxins you can get from shellfish? How many bacteria (or as Louis Pasteur would say "wee beasties") there are in the world?
It's beginning to have the opposite affect on me. I want to drop food on the floor and eat it, go to a C rated restaurant and dig in, visit Mexico just to chug the water. We've made ourselves too safe - time to tempt fate and strengthen my immune system.
Maybe I just really need sleep. And a more regular schedule.
Attending Giant Corporate Cooking School is making me fat and paranoid. Fat because I routinely eat what I make in class for breakfast, which has been cookies, cookies, cookies. I am getting fucking sick of cookies - and yet I keep eating them. I am hereby making a new rule: no cookies for breakfast. For at least a week.
I don't mean for it to happen that way, but 3:30 is early. And I'm not so hot in the mornings. It's amazing I remember to put on pants, you think I'm going to eat breakfast? By the time class is over, I've been awake for six hours and have probably only had some water. It leads to a nasty habit of me diving head first into whatever it is I've created and emerging minutes later covered in crumbs with my eyes glazing over. The sugar rush is pretty short lived and this might explain my narcoleptic tendencies.
Paranoid because I'm also taking a food safety and sanitation class. Apparently no amount of hand-washing will ever be enough and no contaminate is too unlikely. Do you even want to know the amount of neurotoxins you can get from shellfish? How many bacteria (or as Louis Pasteur would say "wee beasties") there are in the world?
It's beginning to have the opposite affect on me. I want to drop food on the floor and eat it, go to a C rated restaurant and dig in, visit Mexico just to chug the water. We've made ourselves too safe - time to tempt fate and strengthen my immune system.
Maybe I just really need sleep. And a more regular schedule.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
GCCS - Day 6
It's the start of the second week at the Giant Corporate Cooking School. The three day weekend was nice (yay dead presidents, more of you should set up camp in my bank account) but it really only served to completely throw my schedule off yet again. I came home and passed out. 3:30 in the morning is early people.
But I would like to take this moment to introduce you to my new special friend:
Ladies and gentlemen, please meet Jaws, my chef's knife.
Why Jaws? Because everytime he's around there's bloodshed. (I tried really, really hard to get a picture of the damage, but I couldn't do it justice. Suffice it to say I have not one but two gaping holes in my fingers right now.) He is the reason I've gone through an entire box of bandaids in a week and become familiar with ways to keep whites white.
But I would like to take this moment to introduce you to my new special friend:
Ladies and gentlemen, please meet Jaws, my chef's knife.
Why Jaws? Because everytime he's around there's bloodshed. (I tried really, really hard to get a picture of the damage, but I couldn't do it justice. Suffice it to say I have not one but two gaping holes in my fingers right now.) He is the reason I've gone through an entire box of bandaids in a week and become familiar with ways to keep whites white.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Published.
Oh what's this? I'm just gonna leave it right here.
http://www.creators.com/lifestylefeatures/travel/travel-and-adventure.html
It's like I'm a real writer or something.
http://www.creators.com/lifestylefeatures/travel/travel-and-adventure.html
It's like I'm a real writer or something.
GCCS - Day 5
Week one - done. 35 weeks to go.
(Am I the only one who thinks the fact that it's a 9 month/36 week program is funny? It's like being pregnant. I'm having a food baby. For realz.)
(Am I the only one who thinks the fact that it's a 9 month/36 week program is funny? It's like being pregnant. I'm having a food baby. For realz.)
Thursday, February 17, 2011
GCCS - Day 4
It's been a long day, but a good one. I managed to get to school on time (yay me!), thereby not angering Chef from the get-go. I cut my middle finger pad and it hurts to type, the cat is vying for lap space with my computer and my 3:30 am wake-up time looms ever nearer. It's time for bed.
I am officially lame.
I am officially lame.
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