Snowmageddon... yes, they're calling it that.

Snowmageddon is really wreaking havoc on my school schedule.  Friday class was cancelled, tonight was cut short and tomorrow is cancelled.  Friday, for some reason, is being celebrated as President's day instead of Monday so I will not see a classroom for almost a week.  It is possible that my brain will explode in disbelief (and maybe even boredom.  I'm getting used to this go go go stuff.)

So, what's up with me?  Besides blizzard after blizzard, I did manage to make it to class last night.  A quiz was announced last week so naturally everyone had their notes open trying to cram every last potato/grain/rice/etc factoid in come Monday's class.  Chef walks in and starts the lecture.  An air of confusion fills the room and everyone remains silent.  Lecture continues.  Once prep and production started, so did the whispering.  "What happened to the quiz?"  "Do you think he forgot?" "Don't say anything!!!" (Directed at me.  Not sure if I'm flattered or offended.)   We all had an unspoken pact to not bring it up.  I felt pretty ready for it, however, I am a horrible test taker so definitely could have benefited from more studying.

Class came and went.  We made pasta dough using the well method which I have had a disastrous experience with in the past. There's photographic evidence... that kind of disaster.   To go along, we made pumpkin ravioli filling and pasta sauce; or as Chef calls it, "gravy."  Ugh gravy.  The simple word sends a chill down my spine.  Now, no offense to any "gravy" lovers out there but certain Italian-American-isms have always been a pet peeve of mine.  Not sure if it is from going to high school in "the tomato capital of the world," not an overabundance of tomato plants in sight mind you, or the arguments I would have with people that would try and convince me that "fungu" was the way to say a certain phrase similar to the one I will say to the snow I am going to have to shovel tomorrow (shaking fist towards sky... snowmageddon!!!) or the fact that my entire paternal side of the family lives in Rome (ciao ciao, se stai leggendo questo.) I spent most of my childhood back and forth between here and Italy so I take a certain pride in saying I am Italian.  When I hear "ay pisano" or see the "Italian princess" sticker on one's car even though they probably don't even have a passport, I just end up shaking my head.  I guess I should probably get off my high horse now.

Anyways, back to my point.  So the quiz.  Class came and went and still no quiz.  We're about to leave and we hear "ok, so tomorrow... quiz."  Fine, another night to study.  Fast forward to today.  We receive our quizzes and begin.  I scan over it answering the ones I know right off the bat and as I continue through the quiz, panic sets in.  The quiz was on all of the pasta information we had learned the night prior.  Yes, we should be prepared and know about it but when someone tells you to study for X,Y, & Z   you probably wouldn't study C.  So I answered the questions the best I could and sulked for about 15 minutes before bringing it up to Chef.  He was pretty understanding about it and told the class not to stress over it and we'll see how everyone did and take it from there.  I felt a bit better and the pasta we got to eat for dinner in class rid me of any remaining bad mood.  Class let out early due to the snow and the closure of Philadelphia more or less so it's back home to my best friend/roommate, my dog Sophie and the coziness of my couch which I have been missing.

Time to sit back and enjoy SNOWMAGEDDON!  Sorry... it just cracks me up.