Day twenty-five: I’ve eaten a frog
Posted on | March 18, 2009
This was a day of ch … ch … ch … changes.
And the frog was the least of it.
(By the way, I’ve got the world’s cutest food joke at the end of this post. Another student told it and I just roared.)
Welcome to chicken week
Despite my best plans to get in early to practice my knife skills, I didn’t make it. I got caught up grading papers (I’m not just the hair club president, I’m also a client). No, of course, I don’t teach at the culinary school. And nor do I teach any culinary topics. But juggling the two does keep me very busy and slightly schizophrenic.
So I get in five minutes before eight and by five minutes after I’m making consomme.
Which means I am whirring raw chicken in the food processor. And you better believe I am thinking “I wish I hadn’t eaten before class this morning. I really wish I hadn’t.”
Ground chicken is the most unappetizing shade of pink imaginable.
By 8:30, the consomme ingredients were in the pot and my raft was starting to form (the raft consists of the solid ingredients you put into your stock to flavor it, from ground chicken and whipped egg whites to a mirepoix and sachet).
They call it a “raft” but it is really a thick, soggy, foam.
By 9:00 I was fabricating chicken. Now this was cool. First, I got to use my boning knife for the first time. And sharp, well, this thing was so sharp and perfectly designed for this task that it was a treat to use. And, second, imagine the power in being able to cut a chicken into all sorts of parts in no time flat.
Well, okay, it didn’t take “no time.” Matter of fact, it took tons of time. But those chickens were cut and cut pretty well.
Although I was still wishing I had skipped breakfast.
By 10:30 everyone was trying everyone’s chicken dishes. Now, when I say “everyone,” you need to know this is “everyone” minus the three people who were missing yesterday and missing, again, today. Namely, Grinning Guy (recovering from St. Patrick’s Day, I assume), Alaska Guy (who decided to transfer to the night class), and Complaining Girl (who no one, including the chef, has any idea what happened to).
And it looks like Sweet Line Cook may have to transfer to the night class to accommodate his work schedule. So student changes all around.
How much is that froggie in the window?
When students prepare extra food, they leave it in the student lounge. So, if you are hungry, just wait. Sooner or later, something will show up.
Today, what showed up was frogs legs.
The idea of frogs legs is a bit, well, gross. But I am here to get all the experience I can, so I grabbed one and bit.
Wanna know what it tasted like? Just like fishy chicken.
The meat was tender enough. But the flavor had this distinct undertone of fish.
And it is small. As in, two bites and it was done. Which was fine by me. Because two bites was all I needed to cross them off my “Gotta try them one day” and not add them to my “Gotta order in a restaurant one day” lists.
Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
And into the lecture room we went. Now, culinary school is not regimented like university is. Sure, the Chef instructors know what they want to talk about. But it takes nothing to get them sidetracked. And, today, Grandpa Chef got focused on what came first, the chicken or the egg.
So 98 Pound Girl piped up. “I know a joke about that, Chef.”
“Oh yeah? Tell it.”
“Okay. There’s this chicken and this egg, laying in bed having a cigarette. So the chicken turns to the egg and says “Well, now we know the answer.”
Get it? Get it! I almost choked I laughed so hard.
And speaking of ch … ch … ch … changes, my home life is about to change
One of these days I have to write a post to tell you about me and about my life. I mean, I assume you want to know who you are reading. And I plan to do so, but not today. However, I will let you know that one nice piece of news hit me (us): My husband was offered a job.
See, we moved hundreds of miles so I could go to culinary school. I had offers from a bunch of different schools, but we selected this one for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was because this is a great city and we want to take this opportunity to explore it.
But the problem with this is that my husband had to give up his job so we could move. (I gave up most of my work, too, but I would have had to do that no matter where I went to school so it wasn’t quite as dramatic for me.)
Before we moved, he generated a lot of interest here, but no firm offers. But we didn’t want to wait until he had one, so we said “Screw it, let’s move and just get something when we are there.”
We’ve been here about six weeks. And his job offer is at a good salary doing precisely what he wants to do.
For him, that means no more job hunting, which is almost as valuable as doing the work he likes. For us, it means we’re back in a secure position. I’m telling you this because if you are unemployed (and so many people are these days), I want to give you a glimmer of hope. If my husband can get a job these days, you can, too.
For me, however, this means I’ll no longer get a lift home every day. Bother!
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2 Responses to “Day twenty-five: I’ve eaten a frog”
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March 18th, 2009 @ 6:51 pm
Well, I am sure your students were grateful for your insightful comments on their papers;)
March 18th, 2009 @ 8:39 pm
De-lurking to say thanks. I love reading– I secretly want to go to culinary school, but don’t want to work in a restaurant, so that will have to wait.
I’m saying thanks, because six weeks ago we moved to a new city, and I had to give up my job, and I still haven’t found one. So thanks for the glimmer of hope.