Midterm Madness

The last 5 weeks have been a blur of knife cuts, new friendships, getting back into the school mindset, commutes to Cordova, ever changing work schedules, wedding festivities, sorority recruitment workshops, and somewhere in there trying to squeeze in a social life.

I'm not sure how it happened so quickly, but I'm already having my first midterm of culinary school today. To be honest, culinary school is a lot more difficult than I mentally prepared for. I went in to this new phase of my life with the mindset that I would be at the top of my class. After being told that I'm one of ten students out of 400 with a bachelors degree, how could I not think that I would excel in the classroom? I was in for a rude awakening. Got my first test back (Yes, culinary school does have written tests...we lecture for two hours every day) and fuck me. I made a 92. OK, so that's not bad. It's an A. But when I've got my mind set on being the best, a 92 is kind of a slap in the face. And after that test...an 86, a 92, then finally pulled out a 100.

Ok, so not so bad in lecture. I have an A.

Now let's move on to the meat of the class. Lab. I've got my new knife bag full of shiny, sharp as shit knives ready to slice and dice anything thrown my way...until I realize that my knife skills suck. My Chef informs me that I have awful knife skills due to the fact that I'm right hand/left eye dominant--only the most challenging pair. I have to close one of my eyes at all times to get precise cuts. It's a bitch. I can't tourne (2 inch 7 sided football vegetable cut) a potato or a carrot to save my fucking life, nor can I julienne worth a shit. But, come to find out, I can make a mean mayonnaise...which definitely works to my advantage since that's part of my lab practical today. But, on the other hand, so are tournes and juliennes and every other knife cut I suck at.

I started second guessing my decision to go to culinary school after the first week of classes.

1. I'm in the minority at school. Well, actually, I'm the only privileged, sorority girl, bachelor's degree, Lexus driving white girl in school. I know more about food than my entire class combined. All of my classmates turn their noses up to avocados and garlic and onions...my favorites to eat. I was constantly asking myself, "How am I going to make it a year and a half with no friends in school?" Come to find out, I have a lot more in common with them than I thought...and I adore them and they adore me. If one of them isn't jumping out from behind doors and tackling me, someone else is hiding my books around the classroom...or prank calling me, or calling me a diva, you name it. The Chefs say that we're the closest 101 class they've ever seen...we even have a Facebook group. And we all have nicknames. There's Teddy B. Love (whom I named) that's the sweetest, most genuine black guy/aspiring rapper that I've ever met. Then Lil Bit who's an 18 year old, spit fire that works at McDonalds who calls me Momma. And Chief. She's my favorite. And her mother is dying of cancer in the hospital right now, and my heart breaks for her. Not only is she losing her mother, she's losing her best friend and babysitter. How is she supposed to bust her ass at work and go to school with two kids? I had to leave the kitchen Thursday when I found out because I couldn't quit crying. We're a family, and we have the most overwhelming love and respect for each other after only 5 weeks.

Puttanesca

2. Like I mentioned above, culinary school is hard. I've always excelled in everything that I've done or been a part of until now. I actually have to work hard at this, and it's not something I'm used to. But, I've come to realize, that the only thing I'm not that great at is knife skills, and Chef says that will come with time. But when it comes to the stove, I'm a bad bitch so watch me work. Last Thursday we made puttanesca and guess who was chosen to make dishes for dinner for the other chefs in the school. This girl right here. It was definitely my most proud moment in school so far. Once you have that feeling of achievement, you know you can actually do this and be good at it. It was that hump that I had to get over.

I'm no longer doubting myself. That doesn't mean I think I'm going to be the greatest chef that's ever lived, but I am going to be damn good at it. And ya'll are going to eat my food and fucking love it. And in case you're wondering, we have to say "Yes Chef" "No Chef" just like Hell's Kitchen. And I have a "culinary school boyfriend" that's crushing on me hard and brings food to me in class. Everyone's jealous. He's not so bad at drunken makeouts in my apartment parking lot in broad daylight either. Too bad he's 21 and lives with his parents.

  XOXO,

 Skeeter
(nickname in school)