first weekend at the new job

In list form because I'm too tired to form actual paragraphs:
- while walking to work two random strangers said "hi chef"... to me
- learned a lot in the last few days, especially some Spanish words
- stabbed myself with my pairing knife. Little blood.

- one of the sous chefs loves that's what she said jokes.  Instant friends.

- feet are tired
- knees are hurting
- hair is stinky like kitchen
- so exhausted
- so happy.

I was telling someone today that I never saw my life going in this direction but I am so glad that it did.

21 days

First to start off, this post is unfortunately not about zombies.  Sorry.

It's about how many days until probably the toughest day of my life.  The Broad Street Run. 10 miles of grueling conditions, rough terrain and obstacles.  Okay, I'm lying.  It's a straight, slight downhill course and everyone says it is pretty easy but still, 10 miles.  I ran six miles today; my farthest distance ever.  I'm not going to say it was awesome and felt great.  It was awful and it sucked and next weekend I'll be out there again trying to go even farther.  I've never really been the "push it 'til I puke" person but today that almost changed.  Around mile four, which usually isn't that much of a challenge (weird saying that), I started going hazy an needed to sit for a few minutes.  Then the nausea.  Then the fast, uncomfortable search for a bathroom.  Once I was able to run again my legs, back and stomach started cramping. One more mile to go and I finished by jog/limp/walking.  Six miles took one hour and 23 minutes.  I'll take it.

It's tough finding the time to get my training in and will be tougher now that my weekends will be spent at the restaurant.  My first official shift will be this upcoming Saturday so I'll be trying to get my long runs in during the week.  I know the rule is to never increase your distance more than a tenth but I don't have a choice and so I've been doing a run/walk method, the majority of it running.  Should all go well, I'm looking to finish in around two hours but registered for two and a half hours.

So school.

First week of quarter two is over and so far so good.  I like all of my teachers and feel that I will learn a lot this quarter.  In our first class for Skills 2, we had to draw our plating, base it around a flavor profile and have it ready in a five minute fire time window.  It was so much more intense than my Skills 1 final that it's a pretty good mix of super intimidating and exciting.  Intro to Food Service seems like it will be a change of pace and it will be a good way to find out about all the different types of jobs I can get and how to get them.  I'm excited for my Nutrition class since it is something I am into normally anyways.

I'll be walking away from my job of three years this week.  The job that ended up pushing me into culinary school via partial unemployment.  As happy as I am to move on to bigger and better things, it's sad in a way.

Lots of good.

Sorry I have been MIA for a bit.  Between finals and what I am about to write about, life's been a bit hectic.  Thank you to anyone who is still out there reading this.

So spring break is coming to an end which, for me, was never really a break to being with.  I had my trail at Tinto which went very well.  As soon as I got into the kitchen I was put to work brunoise cutting red peppers, small dicing potatoes, making mirepoix stock kits and julienning about 40 onions.  I think the final task may have been a test to see if I would finish with a smile on my face and I am happy to say that I did.  I don't mind the grunt work.  I know that I have absolutely no kitchen experience besides my four months in culinary school.  I know that you have to do the grunt work to gain respect.  I know there is much more of it to come and hours on end with little or no pay before I make it to the top.  But, I love it.  So I will.  9 p.m. rolled around and the chef that I had spoken to came down and asked me what I thought and when I would be able to come back.  I was excited.  If I were terrible they probably would have just thanked me for coming in and sent me on my way.

A few days later I'd be back to prove myself again.  This time it would be a bit more hands on.  I got to work cutting french baguettes which I so wanted to eat.  (I later did.  mmm dinner.)  After that I observed the chefs I would be trailing as the dinner service began.  I learned how to make many of the dishes and a few of the things I made went out for service.  Since the two restaurants, Tinto and Village Whiskey, share a kitchen, I mainly worked on the Village Whiskey dishes: pickled tomatoes, artichokes, carrots and beats, deviled eggs and Cobb salads.  The most exciting and challenging part was trying, emphasis on trying, to shuck oysters and clams. I felt victorious as my first shell popped open and defeating as the next four did not. Practice makes perfect and that's what I did whenever an order came up. A few dinner rushes came and I tried to jump in whenever possible.  The night flew by and before I knew it I was wrapping everything up in preparation to go home.  I was hoping that someone would come over and invite me back.  Nothing.  So I started cleaning.  While scrubbing down the meat slicer the head chef came over and asked if I wanted to talk.  Being the awkward, unknowing kitchen helper that I am I asked if I should finish with the slicer.  He said someone else could finish the job and we went to the office and sat down.

"So, what did you think."
"I loved it.  I had lots of fun."

Then he hit me with it: they wanted to bring me aboard as an employee.  If only I could have seen my face.  Trying to contain my overwhelming joy I focused as much on what he was saying as possible.  As I walked out of the restaurant I did little victory dances whenever no one would be able to see.  I got in my car and screamed.  This is official (in both senses of the word.)  My first kitchen job at an amazing restaurant headed up by an amazing team and an Iron Chef.   If you stop by Village Whiskey on a Saturday night and order the pickled tomatoes, imagine me putting them in the mason jar with a big, silly grin on my face.  They'll taste even better.