whine & dine

I’ve pretty much decided that when I’m done with this stage, I’m going to write a book. (Check back with me when I’m actually done with said stage to see if I really get down to writing it or not.) Not about my experiences with this kitchen/restaurant in particular, just some things I’ve found out, been taught, and in general want to scream at the world at large.

The first chapter is going to be titled after this post. Salad leaves are the single greatest bane of my existence in a professional kitchen. Salad leaves get wet, bruised, START TO SMELL FUNKY, and always – ALWAYS – need to be treated with the utmost care. In my first week, I really did little more than sort out buckets and buckets of salad leaves – for which I’m glad. Because now I respect them, now I know how they need to be treated, and – frankly speaking – if I didn’t, I wouldn’t trust myself with a knife.

Yesterday was my first day into the second half of my stage. It’s growing to be the sort of experience where you wake up each morning with half of you excited about going to work, and the other half has to be dragged kicking and screaming out of bed. I love that I’ve become more comfortable with my surroundings; that I now know (more or less) exactly what I need to do, that a grey tub slightly over half full of salad dressing X will likely last me at most 3 more days before it’s time to make a new batch, that I need to defrost the chicken first thing in the morning so that I can get it grilled before dinner service starts. I just wish there was something that would make it easier to yank myself out of bed when it’s a Sunday morning and my girlfriend’s fast asleep next to me.

As much as I hate having 3/4 of my non-sleeping hours locked up every single day of the week, I know I’m going to miss this terribly when it’s over. I guess I might be having one of those existentialist moments where I wonder if I’ve found something I could do for the rest of my life.