What's the 'Special?' I dunno. More like a surprise, really; that is, I've actually managed to write 25 installments of this thing. A surprise in that I'm still with the Salvation Army vocational program and still hanging tough in the culinary course at CSN. A surprise that I've managed to keep any semblence of my sanity during one of the most stressful periods of my life. A surprise that it the light at the end of the tunnel may not signify an oncoming locomotive after all, but and actually and to this journey. And the beginning of another one. But before I get too misty eyed over my trials and tribulations, let us get caught up on a few events that have transpired since we last met.
Tensions tend to run high amongst the students in my culinary garde manger class. Despite the fact that our graduation is only a few weeks away (April 4th, with a spring break included) I sense a lot of trepidation amongst my classmates. My guess is that a lot of them are wondering -- and worried -- about their job prospects, especially those with long rap sheets. While that is not one of your humble narrator's concerns, he is nonetheless becoming antsy about procuring work in a field in which he has, like, zero experience. I'll keep you updated, of course.
The tension erupted into a all-out 'event' a few nights ago. During our ride back to SA, we were treated to the serenades of AJ, who you might recall is an extremely outspoken large black woman and parolee. Her obnoxious behavior is irritating to many of us, but we find it pointless to confront her about it. She's one of those people who feels she's justified in whatever behavior she indulges, not matter how adversely it may affect her classmates. As she warbled r&b songs throughout the drive, you could hear grumblings from those of us in the van. The alleged singing was often punctuated by outbursts of her loud, grating laughter. No one knows why she was laughing.
Upon heading into the SA offices (culinary students must place their knives in a central holding area, presumably to offset the chance of any random stabbings or renegade cooking), AJ continued to sing so loud that it was difficult to hear anyone else. This was when another classmate -- one of my roommates, in fact commented, "Too bad we can't hear anything for all the goddam singing back here!" This was the spark that lit AJs fuse. "Yeah. that's too bad," she shouted back. "That's just too f**king bad!"
Walking Pieces of Flesh
My roommate (call him RM1) is the sort who likes to needles people for the hell of it. For example, one of his greetings is, "Geez, You have it made. You don't have any problems, do you?" Or he might try to provoke a response with, "What do you know about work? You've had it easy. I'm the only one who's ever had a hard life." The hard life reference also turns up in comments like, "I'm sorry I'm such an asshole. I've had a hard life." Or to a female (usually): I've had such a hard life. You should let me rub Vicks VapoRub all over your chest." (No endorsement of said product unless Vicks elects to compensate me.)
With his dry delivery, it's not always easy to tell if RM1 is being serious or not. As you might imagine, this has landed him in varying amounts of hot water since I've known him. For the record, RM1 is a 48-year old white guy, overweight but not grossly so, and stands about 5'8. Most would agree he has an outgoing personality and is friendly enough. He tells me he's had a lifelong drinking problem and has been through countless rehab programs.. From what I can tell, he has spent the last several years in and out of various programs and has logged most of that time in SA. While he claims to be seeking a cure, he also says he finds the compulsory AA meetings so boring that he usually spends his time texting throughout.
While I do like him and find him an agreeable roommate (I've heard a few horror stories about roommates from hell; remind me to tell you about them sometime) he does have a penchant for bizarre behavior and for making puzzling comments. An example would be his habit of entering a room and spouting gibberish. Something like "Shizbot pakum, flizzbet" with a delivery in a high-pitched 'alien' voice. After which he immediately says, "What?" as if he didn't say it. Other variations are RM1 suddenly bursting out singing gibberish, then commenting, "What the hell was that?"
A Thong To Remember
I find it funny up to a point. RM does have a tendency to over do it. As with certain 'catchphrases' like "Are you sick of it?" That one got overdone to the point that I told him to come up with new material. Or referring to fellow SA clients by saying, "Why can't someone just make all these walking pieces of flesh disappear?" His longest running bit had to do with an apparent fixation on thongs. While working, he would come up to you and mutter, my thong is on too tight; he would also blurt this out while sitting in the room. Or he might announce, "Who can imagine me in a silver thong right now? Seriously, I wanna know."
Another time-honored bit is his habit of sidling up to you with an impromptu 'thong song'. This might go something like, "Hit me in my thong until your tits explode." Or, "Bust me in the face until your thong's too tight! What?"
Along with the laughs, RM 1 does have a dark side which can appear without notice. This can manifest with certain statements about injuring people he perceives as ignoring him, or think are above him in some capacity. He seems to be overly sensitive to criticism. He'll often say things like, "The next time (he) says that to me or acts that way, I'll tell him, 'look motherf***er' you think you're so bad, let's go outside and settle it. But you won't do it 'cause you're too much of a bitch.' That's what I'll tell him. He thinks he can pull that s**t with me, but I ain't the one, bro'."
Then there's his obsession with online chat rooms/websites which leads to him constantly carry his phone while texting. Even while working he has to break away and text. He often talks about how he's met one woman or another in various states like Kentucky or Indiana and how well they get along. He had a long relationship with a woman and her two kids. They never met; the relationship was conducted entirely over the phone and texting. It's amazing to me that there's a kind of subculture who meet, 'fall in love', 'get engages' and, I guess, even 'married' over the Internet. I'd often he RM arguing with a woman about how she should respond to other guys online if she's his (alleged) 'finace'.
The relation ship with the woman and children ended badly, however. While he often talked to the kids about how he wanted to meet them, marry their mom and start a new family, he neglected on detail: He was living in a SA dorm, had no job, and no money. When he finally revealed this to her, she was understandably upset and finally cut communication with him. His response? "It figures. All these goddam women are the same. They ain't serious. I really thought she was special, too. Stupid f***in' bitch." Yes, the man does have issues. But hey, I never said he was perfect.
Can't We All Just Get Along?
Just wanted to let you have some insight to RM1, as I'd been meaning to do so for some time. Anyway, AJ had just shouted, "That's too f**kin' bad!" To which RM1 shouted, "Nobody wants to hear your stupid singing. Shut the f**k up!
AJ: Come make me shut the f**k up, then!
RM1: Shut up before I bust you in the mouth!
AJ: You gonna bust me in the mouth? Do it then, bitch! I fight men! I'll kick your ass!
RM1: You wanna act like a man, I'll treat you like a man if you don't shut up!
AJ: Oh, well! Oh, well! Oh, F***IN' WELL!"
(About this time a female security guard happened by and managed to stand between AJ and RM1. RM1 actually settled down, but AJ maintained her tirade, essentially shouting in the guard's face as RM1 and the rest of us walked through the doorway to another room.)
AJ: The f**k you talkin' about, I'm too loud? Who you, anyway? I ain't motherf***in' loud! You gonna fight me, come on back here, then! I'll kick your motherf***in' ass to the curb! Yeah, that's right! You ain't nothin'! Keep on walking, bee-yatch!"
Things finally quieted down, statements were taken, and everyone dispersed. In the room afterward, RM fretted about his actions, claiming that he was only joking and didn't think AJ would take him seriously; things just got out of hand. He also claimed he and AJ made up, apologizing to one another and hugging it out. Maybe so. But RM1 was still summoned to see the caseworkers the next day. He learned that he would be on probation for the next two weeks. That means he is essentially exiled to the A/B Dorms (the one with all the bunk beds that I stayed at initially) but still must report for kitchen duty and culinary classes. He'll still retain meal and laundry privileges, but can't stay in his room in the vocational dorm.
For all its drawbacks, the vocational dorm where I stay is vastly preferable to the other set-up. The fact that SA views this as a punishment should tell you a lot. It was thought that AJ would receive a similar punishment despite her protestations that she didn't do anything wrong (both parties were guilty of course). But we'll have to wait and see with AJ. Earlier this morning she suffered a seizure of some sort and fell over. Ambulances arrived and took her to a nearby hospital with her boyfriend (a fellow client and classmate) along for the ride. As of this writing I don't know how serious her condition is.
When I mentioned the happenings to RM1 he said, "Great. They'll probably try to blame that on me, too. (sighs) Niptok duzzleflarb acto. What the hell was that?!"
So, after 25 installments of HINJFCA you might ask your humble narrator: What's the most important thing you've learned thus far? Easy. My wrists get really cramped after all this damn typing. For now, that's a wrap!
Showing posts with label garde manger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label garde manger. Show all posts
Friday, March 16, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
HINJFCA Part XX2: Culinary Combat Continues
As they say, one door opens when another shuts. So Door #1 has shut on the first phase of the Salvation Army culinary course. Tonight I (and 14 other students) enter Door #2, aka garde manger. From what I've heard this final (thank God) phase is supposed to be less cooking intensive and demanding that the first part of the course. I like it already. Of course, I'll give you my thoughts and ruminations on the whole shebang later.
In case you're interested, these culinary classes are held at the College of Southern Nevada (CSN) located in North Las Vegas. (All of which seems a bit geographically challenged when you think of it.) It's a smallish campus but I find it easy to get around. The atmosphere is friendly; it's the kind of campus where everyone seems to know your name, ala "Cheers". The faculty is helpful and the students are usually nice enough to help out middle-aged fellows such as your humble narrator, who don't always have the greatest sense of direction.
It's been quite a while since I was on a college campus as a student. For some reason, I don't feel completely out of place regarding the age gap between myself and the young ones. Maybe it's because the generation gap has narrowed since the 70s-80s )I'm sure there are many scholarly dissertations on this social phenomena). Or maybe it's because I'm too preoccupied by my current situation re homelessness to really give a damn. Whatever. I can you that the female student body is much more appealing at CSN than at SA. (And fairly open-minded as well. When I told one young coed about my life situation she didn't immediately sneer and flee.)
Considering that many of these girls are young enough to be my daughters -- or granddaughters, yeesh! -- sometimes I feel a bit guilty about checking out their supple, nubile bodies and their firm round ... eyes. I never really imagined myself as a dirty old man leering at young women, but I expect it was inevitable. In a way it's something of a natural progression for me. After all, I started off as a dirty young man and have been sliding down the evolutionary scale ever since. In all honesty, CSN is turning into a great place for research since I can access their library and computer rooms. (All provided by a student ID at no cost to yours truly. See, sometimes it pays to be poor!)
I thought I'd share a few odds and ends about me, my stay at SA and some of my culinary compatriots -- not necessarily in that order. As you may recall the class is composed of 15 students divided into five 3-man teams. My experience with Rain Man and Pitbull was hellish enough that I informed RM I wanted to switch teams. He, of course, replied that he had been thinking along the same lines. (This was somewhat akin to breaking up with a girl; you always want to be the first one announcing the break-up)
RM said he was cool with that. In fact he said I wanted to split from PB except no one wanted to work with the guy. (I've described PB before. For newcomers, he's short and built like a fireplug with a moody, short-tempered disposition and his opinion of black people veers slightly to the right of Hitler.) As it turns out many students want to switch teams. We're scheduled to have a meeting with the caseworkers in which it's expected that names be drawn out of a hat. I'm hoping that PB's two teammates are black.
The Enigma That Is Rain Man
He's a big guy standing app. 6'3 and built like a linebacker (albeit with a paunch). RM is a mathematical wizard, supposedly pegged as a child prodigy -- I actually can believe it. I call him Rain Man because he is so adept at spinning numbers in his head. It may be why he's such an accomplished cook as well. As I've found out to my everlasting misery, cooking incurs a lot of mathematical formula. (By now, you certainly know how I feel about math so I won't belabor the point.) At any rate you can tell the guy has some education (from his vocabulary) and some smarts. In fact you'd have to say he has a lot of potential for success, having managed restaurants like the Olive Garden and several other establishments.
So I ask you: Does this sound like a guy who just came off a 7-year bid in prison for armed robbery and is now on parole? Does this fit the profile of a guy who has been banned from entering two states of the Union? Does this fit the image of a man who has spent most of his adult life behind bars? Guess what? In this case all of the above does apply. RM, as they say, has been into some heavy s**t in his lifetime. Despite his facility with numbers and his cooking acumen, he's considered a hard core felon (some of his mug shots are online. Apparently he has no problem about this as he directed me to the websites.)
While we share a mutual respect for each other (probably because we're among the handful of SA clients who can speak in words of 2+ syllables), the guy does scare me. First, there's his intimidating height and size. Then there's his manner; usually quiet but he has a propensity for telling dirty jokes and using a lot of profanity (this is an infraction that can incur a write-up if overheard by the wrong set of ears.) I think his demeanor can be too quiet, almost dispassionate at times. Like a calculator, he can come off as cold and efficient.
Sometimes I feel like I'm talking to a machine that's making an effort to seem human. he makes the right gestures and responses, but something isn't quite ... right. It's as though he's composed of wires and circuits more than flesh and blood. But I've seen evidence of very human anger flash across his face, and something tells me when he flies into a rage it doesn't end until somebody is crippled or worse. He doesn't seem like the type to back down from a fight.
I've often found it interesting that intelligence doesn't preclude the propensity for making stupid decisions. After all, many criminals -- including serial killers -- are considered above average in intellect. You would think RM could have easily walked the straight and narrow and found a legit career instead of turning to crime; started a family instead of enduring two busted marriages (he's attempting to track down the second wife); would have followed the example set forth by his family, who are apparently successful and well-to-do (and law-abiding). Obviously, RM was motivated by other, darker forces.
One last reason why I stay friendly with RM but still keep a respectable distance: He was talking about some of his prison experiences when he stopped and looked at me. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, he said, "You know something? You wouldn't've lasted five minutes in the prison I was at." Like I would want to?
From his very detailed approach to things you could call him a control freak, trying to anticipate every possible contingency. When things go wrong, he doesn't take criticism very well and becomes stone silent. His face is not a pretty sight. Still, he is the undeniable star of the culinary class. It'll be interesting to see how he fares when it's time to seek work.
Time is winding down, so let me just say that in my time at SA I've totally lost track of the TV shows I once followed. Chuck and Nikita were two of my favorites. And I'd often watch the Oscars. Do you I had no idea the Academy Awards were shown last night? Didn't even know it until this morning. And you know something? I don't feel like I missed much,
For now, that's a wrap!
Quote of the Day:
"I bet if I brought a cow into (this classroom) and slit its throat, there'd be a lot of vegetarians tomorrow." -- Chef X
In case you're interested, these culinary classes are held at the College of Southern Nevada (CSN) located in North Las Vegas. (All of which seems a bit geographically challenged when you think of it.) It's a smallish campus but I find it easy to get around. The atmosphere is friendly; it's the kind of campus where everyone seems to know your name, ala "Cheers". The faculty is helpful and the students are usually nice enough to help out middle-aged fellows such as your humble narrator, who don't always have the greatest sense of direction.
It's been quite a while since I was on a college campus as a student. For some reason, I don't feel completely out of place regarding the age gap between myself and the young ones. Maybe it's because the generation gap has narrowed since the 70s-80s )I'm sure there are many scholarly dissertations on this social phenomena). Or maybe it's because I'm too preoccupied by my current situation re homelessness to really give a damn. Whatever. I can you that the female student body is much more appealing at CSN than at SA. (And fairly open-minded as well. When I told one young coed about my life situation she didn't immediately sneer and flee.)
Considering that many of these girls are young enough to be my daughters -- or granddaughters, yeesh! -- sometimes I feel a bit guilty about checking out their supple, nubile bodies and their firm round ... eyes. I never really imagined myself as a dirty old man leering at young women, but I expect it was inevitable. In a way it's something of a natural progression for me. After all, I started off as a dirty young man and have been sliding down the evolutionary scale ever since. In all honesty, CSN is turning into a great place for research since I can access their library and computer rooms. (All provided by a student ID at no cost to yours truly. See, sometimes it pays to be poor!)
I thought I'd share a few odds and ends about me, my stay at SA and some of my culinary compatriots -- not necessarily in that order. As you may recall the class is composed of 15 students divided into five 3-man teams. My experience with Rain Man and Pitbull was hellish enough that I informed RM I wanted to switch teams. He, of course, replied that he had been thinking along the same lines. (This was somewhat akin to breaking up with a girl; you always want to be the first one announcing the break-up)
RM said he was cool with that. In fact he said I wanted to split from PB except no one wanted to work with the guy. (I've described PB before. For newcomers, he's short and built like a fireplug with a moody, short-tempered disposition and his opinion of black people veers slightly to the right of Hitler.) As it turns out many students want to switch teams. We're scheduled to have a meeting with the caseworkers in which it's expected that names be drawn out of a hat. I'm hoping that PB's two teammates are black.
The Enigma That Is Rain Man
He's a big guy standing app. 6'3 and built like a linebacker (albeit with a paunch). RM is a mathematical wizard, supposedly pegged as a child prodigy -- I actually can believe it. I call him Rain Man because he is so adept at spinning numbers in his head. It may be why he's such an accomplished cook as well. As I've found out to my everlasting misery, cooking incurs a lot of mathematical formula. (By now, you certainly know how I feel about math so I won't belabor the point.) At any rate you can tell the guy has some education (from his vocabulary) and some smarts. In fact you'd have to say he has a lot of potential for success, having managed restaurants like the Olive Garden and several other establishments.
So I ask you: Does this sound like a guy who just came off a 7-year bid in prison for armed robbery and is now on parole? Does this fit the profile of a guy who has been banned from entering two states of the Union? Does this fit the image of a man who has spent most of his adult life behind bars? Guess what? In this case all of the above does apply. RM, as they say, has been into some heavy s**t in his lifetime. Despite his facility with numbers and his cooking acumen, he's considered a hard core felon (some of his mug shots are online. Apparently he has no problem about this as he directed me to the websites.)
While we share a mutual respect for each other (probably because we're among the handful of SA clients who can speak in words of 2+ syllables), the guy does scare me. First, there's his intimidating height and size. Then there's his manner; usually quiet but he has a propensity for telling dirty jokes and using a lot of profanity (this is an infraction that can incur a write-up if overheard by the wrong set of ears.) I think his demeanor can be too quiet, almost dispassionate at times. Like a calculator, he can come off as cold and efficient.
Sometimes I feel like I'm talking to a machine that's making an effort to seem human. he makes the right gestures and responses, but something isn't quite ... right. It's as though he's composed of wires and circuits more than flesh and blood. But I've seen evidence of very human anger flash across his face, and something tells me when he flies into a rage it doesn't end until somebody is crippled or worse. He doesn't seem like the type to back down from a fight.
I've often found it interesting that intelligence doesn't preclude the propensity for making stupid decisions. After all, many criminals -- including serial killers -- are considered above average in intellect. You would think RM could have easily walked the straight and narrow and found a legit career instead of turning to crime; started a family instead of enduring two busted marriages (he's attempting to track down the second wife); would have followed the example set forth by his family, who are apparently successful and well-to-do (and law-abiding). Obviously, RM was motivated by other, darker forces.
One last reason why I stay friendly with RM but still keep a respectable distance: He was talking about some of his prison experiences when he stopped and looked at me. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, he said, "You know something? You wouldn't've lasted five minutes in the prison I was at." Like I would want to?
From his very detailed approach to things you could call him a control freak, trying to anticipate every possible contingency. When things go wrong, he doesn't take criticism very well and becomes stone silent. His face is not a pretty sight. Still, he is the undeniable star of the culinary class. It'll be interesting to see how he fares when it's time to seek work.
Time is winding down, so let me just say that in my time at SA I've totally lost track of the TV shows I once followed. Chuck and Nikita were two of my favorites. And I'd often watch the Oscars. Do you I had no idea the Academy Awards were shown last night? Didn't even know it until this morning. And you know something? I don't feel like I missed much,
For now, that's a wrap!
Quote of the Day:
"I bet if I brought a cow into (this classroom) and slit its throat, there'd be a lot of vegetarians tomorrow." -- Chef X
Monday, February 13, 2012
HINJFCA Part 18: Cutting (and Gutting) Comments
Oops! I notice it's been a while since I last posted (I thought about have adding "anything of note", but that claim might be debatable"). At any rate, fear not; your humble narrator is still alive and kicking. Still fighting the good fight against homelessness and struggling to regain his honored place in society. And still marveling at how little human nature changes even when confronted with the most dire of circumstances.
Let me start by telling you that there's been a full moon over Vegas recently, and that may have led to a spate of uncivilized behavior that has suddenly swept across the Salvation Army campus where I reside. We'll get to that shortly. In the last week or so, I've gotten my official Nevada Health Card. The process for doing this is extremely complex and harrowing: You have to go watch a 15 year old video (transferred from VHS) with a group of other aspirants. Here, you learn all about the dos and don'ts of handling food carefully and all sorts of arcane info about maintaining a sanitary work environment (wash your hands after going to the bathroom, for instance. Who'da thunk it?)
The video lasts about 50 minutes. But that's not all; you also have to complete a quiz that goes along with watching the video. How tough is the quiz? So tough that even when the presenter gave us the answers along the way, some people still couldn't get them right! Your narrator nearly screwed the pooch because of attractive 20-something sat next to be and kept distracting me with her amazingly tones legs and seductive perfume. Sheesh, I have cavities older than her. Anyway, the presentation ended I had to get a shot for Hep B (was an honest to God old-fashioned needle; I didn't wail too loudly -- kinda). With the quiz passed, yours truly was presented with his very own official health card. Complete with photo that makes me look like I'm pleasantly buzzed on near beer.
I have also been attending culinary school classes at night along with 14 other SA participants. As I've said, I enjoy eating food more than cooking it. Recently, I had the pleasure of filleting a couple of fish. Apart from the offensive smell, I found it repulsive to cut open fish flesh (and nicking my fingers on scales and bones (bet the fish was laughing in fish heaven) and handle deep sea guts and viscera. It was especially distressing since it was a female fish and I had to extract the ovaries. Then again, that's as close as I've been to female ovaries (of any species) in quite a while. Maybe I should brag about it.
Frankly, I think it's all a waste of time, and have even less respect for the "sport" of fishing than I had before. Who the hell wants to clean these things? Why do people want to eat food that has eyes, for God's sake? I don't know about you, but I don't want my food watching me while I eviscerate it, let alone eat the damn thing. I got through the nonsense surprisingly calm, even joking about it ("Tonight this fish sleeps with the fishes"). Maybe I just didn't give a fudge. Others, like the guy next to me, were venting their frustrations by shouting, "Man, this a goddam nightmare! I don't believe this sh*t!"). Others complained that the sight of fish innards was making them ill. There merely verbalized what i was thinking the whole time.
Of my teammates, only Pitbull really had the hang of cutting and gutting fish; maybe he's the Gorton's Fisherman. Even Rain Man had problems with this assignment; you could tell he wasn't used to having difficulty with preparing food, so I imagine he was a bit put out by the experience. As for me, I pretty much butchered the assignment -- literally. I was told this when I asked Chef X for help. I merely responded, "Yeah I know it's all f**ked up. Just show me what to do so I can get through this thing." He graciously demonstrated the fine art of filleting out of concern for time constraints more than concern for my actually understanding what the hell I was doing.
Which is fine by me. At this point I merely wish to get the whole sad, sorry business over with. The good news is that we're more than halfway through this course. The bad news is that there's another 5-week course to follow in garde manger. And oh yeah -- we get to cut up a chicken tonight. Guess who can't hardly wait.
One nice byproduct of the classes, however (yeah I do actually have something complementary to say about the experience) is that the students get to eat their own cooking. Actually, I think Chef X looks forward to this more than we do. Over the last two classes, we've enjoyed various beef dishes and fish entrees like Sole Vin Blanc or some Frenchy sounding name. Whatever, it was made with white wine, so it must be good. I say this because I didn't try any of it even though my team made it. I don't generally eat fish. I did try the battered fish (ala Long John Silver's) and it was pretty good.
Frankly, from my experience thus far about reading of beef cuts and filleting fishes I'm finding it ever more difficult to eat the flesh of these animals. When they talk about cutting here and taking out veins and whatnot, it sounds like we're training to be morticians, chefs. And when they talk about preparing internal organs like hearts, kidney, sweetbreads (thymus) or tongue, forget it. By then I'm halfway to the nearest toilet to pray to the porcelain god. I may well come out of this a vegetarian!
And so I'll conclude this episode of my blog -- for now. Why so short an entry? Well, judging from some of the feedback I've received, some of you think I get a bit long-winded at times. In an effort to appease my readers (both of them) I've decided to shorten some of this purple prose and hopefully make it more pleasing to the eyeballs (of which I could use more, so do spread the word). And no, I didn't forget about the wild behavior that's been going on about the SA campus. But that's what we in the entertainment biz call a "cliffhanger". In the meantime, check out one of my favorite graphic novels, soon to be a major motion picture.
Quote of the day:
"People do some strange things for a little bit of change!"
Let me start by telling you that there's been a full moon over Vegas recently, and that may have led to a spate of uncivilized behavior that has suddenly swept across the Salvation Army campus where I reside. We'll get to that shortly. In the last week or so, I've gotten my official Nevada Health Card. The process for doing this is extremely complex and harrowing: You have to go watch a 15 year old video (transferred from VHS) with a group of other aspirants. Here, you learn all about the dos and don'ts of handling food carefully and all sorts of arcane info about maintaining a sanitary work environment (wash your hands after going to the bathroom, for instance. Who'da thunk it?)
The video lasts about 50 minutes. But that's not all; you also have to complete a quiz that goes along with watching the video. How tough is the quiz? So tough that even when the presenter gave us the answers along the way, some people still couldn't get them right! Your narrator nearly screwed the pooch because of attractive 20-something sat next to be and kept distracting me with her amazingly tones legs and seductive perfume. Sheesh, I have cavities older than her. Anyway, the presentation ended I had to get a shot for Hep B (was an honest to God old-fashioned needle; I didn't wail too loudly -- kinda). With the quiz passed, yours truly was presented with his very own official health card. Complete with photo that makes me look like I'm pleasantly buzzed on near beer.
I have also been attending culinary school classes at night along with 14 other SA participants. As I've said, I enjoy eating food more than cooking it. Recently, I had the pleasure of filleting a couple of fish. Apart from the offensive smell, I found it repulsive to cut open fish flesh (and nicking my fingers on scales and bones (bet the fish was laughing in fish heaven) and handle deep sea guts and viscera. It was especially distressing since it was a female fish and I had to extract the ovaries. Then again, that's as close as I've been to female ovaries (of any species) in quite a while. Maybe I should brag about it.
Frankly, I think it's all a waste of time, and have even less respect for the "sport" of fishing than I had before. Who the hell wants to clean these things? Why do people want to eat food that has eyes, for God's sake? I don't know about you, but I don't want my food watching me while I eviscerate it, let alone eat the damn thing. I got through the nonsense surprisingly calm, even joking about it ("Tonight this fish sleeps with the fishes"). Maybe I just didn't give a fudge. Others, like the guy next to me, were venting their frustrations by shouting, "Man, this a goddam nightmare! I don't believe this sh*t!"). Others complained that the sight of fish innards was making them ill. There merely verbalized what i was thinking the whole time.
Of my teammates, only Pitbull really had the hang of cutting and gutting fish; maybe he's the Gorton's Fisherman. Even Rain Man had problems with this assignment; you could tell he wasn't used to having difficulty with preparing food, so I imagine he was a bit put out by the experience. As for me, I pretty much butchered the assignment -- literally. I was told this when I asked Chef X for help. I merely responded, "Yeah I know it's all f**ked up. Just show me what to do so I can get through this thing." He graciously demonstrated the fine art of filleting out of concern for time constraints more than concern for my actually understanding what the hell I was doing.
Which is fine by me. At this point I merely wish to get the whole sad, sorry business over with. The good news is that we're more than halfway through this course. The bad news is that there's another 5-week course to follow in garde manger. And oh yeah -- we get to cut up a chicken tonight. Guess who can't hardly wait.
One nice byproduct of the classes, however (yeah I do actually have something complementary to say about the experience) is that the students get to eat their own cooking. Actually, I think Chef X looks forward to this more than we do. Over the last two classes, we've enjoyed various beef dishes and fish entrees like Sole Vin Blanc or some Frenchy sounding name. Whatever, it was made with white wine, so it must be good. I say this because I didn't try any of it even though my team made it. I don't generally eat fish. I did try the battered fish (ala Long John Silver's) and it was pretty good.
Frankly, from my experience thus far about reading of beef cuts and filleting fishes I'm finding it ever more difficult to eat the flesh of these animals. When they talk about cutting here and taking out veins and whatnot, it sounds like we're training to be morticians, chefs. And when they talk about preparing internal organs like hearts, kidney, sweetbreads (thymus) or tongue, forget it. By then I'm halfway to the nearest toilet to pray to the porcelain god. I may well come out of this a vegetarian!
And so I'll conclude this episode of my blog -- for now. Why so short an entry? Well, judging from some of the feedback I've received, some of you think I get a bit long-winded at times. In an effort to appease my readers (both of them) I've decided to shorten some of this purple prose and hopefully make it more pleasing to the eyeballs (of which I could use more, so do spread the word). And no, I didn't forget about the wild behavior that's been going on about the SA campus. But that's what we in the entertainment biz call a "cliffhanger". In the meantime, check out one of my favorite graphic novels, soon to be a major motion picture.
Quote of the day:
"People do some strange things for a little bit of change!"
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