I’ve been cozing up with Michael Ruhlman’s The Making of a Chef: Mastering Heat at the Culinary Institute of America, and while I’m endlessly engrossed in it, I find work and school such a grueling combo that I often don’t get much read before starting to drift off. I also have a biography of Chef Alice Waters of Chez Panisse fame that I’m really interested to read. She is the mother of the cuisine style I hold closest to my heart – fresh, locally grown and true love and respect for food.
I am, thank God, finally nearing the end of my first class – ServSafe (Food Safety and Sanitation). We take the final tomorrow, and I am beyond ready for it. Food safety is important, by far, but most of this is old hat to me as I took the class and test for my food handler’s card through the county before starting school. This is identical except it also addresses the management side which is honestly a lot of common sense items.
The most dismaying part of going through food safety is that two of my classmates and I got sick eating that student catered buffet and when we told Chef Marine, the head of the school, he didn’t apologize. In fact, he accused us of not having sophisticated enough pallets to handle the richness of the food. Really? BBQ brisket, two pasta salads and some ice cold mashed potatoes require a sophisticaed pallet? I have to remind myself I rank lower than a commis right now – somewhere between the gum on the bottom of my sneaker and a kitchen pest. However, I paid for that meal and didn’t think his attitude was quite right regardless of my status as a student. Thankfully our Chef showed at least a little more concern and let us know it was Chef Teenager who was supervising the gold scarves that day. My friend and classmate took this rebuff quite a bit harder than I did, but she’s also not here to enter the world of hardcore restaurant service – she wants to have a catering company.
I’ve come to the realization today that my class reminds me of being in high school. It’s about the same level of control and total chaos as I remember. While it’s nice to a degree and makes me feel quite a bit younger, it also reinforces everything I’ve read about the childish nature of many culinary arts schools. Sex, drugs and rock and roll with a good dose of R&B seems to be the attitude that’s pervasive. Chef seems to encourage it and it’s seemingly part of the system. I do enjoy most of my class time though, and find myself letting my hair down and enjoying the company of other people more than I have in years.
Still no knife kits, and after the final we are set to being our first set of skills classes, so I’m a little concerned. Not to mention my husband managed to snap one of my Chicago Cutlery paring knives through the middle of the blade the other night. Needless to say he won’t be allowed access to the new knives!
