The tears are beginning to fall
Now that we’re about to move into our new stations, the constant pressure is beginning to show. Several people have mentioned that they’re not sure what they’re doing in this class. “I don’t intend to work in a restaurant” is a common refrain. Many of us joined up to learn to cook well, and what we’ve been exposed to is the grundgiest side of the restaurant business: the conflicts among different personalities, the constant greasy clean-up, petty jealousies and continual time pressure—put that together with being relegated to one station at a time, making one thing over and over rather than learning a lot of different techniques—some of my fellow students are headed for the door. I’m not among them. The adrenalin rush of having to put up or shut up within a short period of time (you burned it? Make it again, and quick!), combined with the hurried atmosphere of people rushing about, all bent on making it all come together by 11:30 (when the restaurant opens) is strangely addictive. Plus, I’m actually learning a lot. The textbook is excellent, and just by being in the kitchen, I learn something new every day (no, my knife isn’t dull—it’s easier to cut a bell pepper through the soft inside rather than the tough skin. Duh.) Next: I become one with soup.
