I Hope Drool Doesn't Stain

The past 6 weeks of class have been relatively painless. All book work and only 2 hours per night. On July 10th, I start my next lab class. 6 weeks, 5 hours a night, in the kitchen, meat cookery. Up until this point, I’ve been seriously stressing about who the Chef Instructors would be, and hoping beyond hope that it wouldn’t be the same jackasses that taught my last lab class.

I arrive at Nutrition class last night and realize we have a substitute for the night. Disappointment sets in. We have a final today and I was really hoping the teacher that writes the final would be there to go over the material. And then, the substitute turns around to face the class. He is tall. He is smiling. He has dark brown wavy hair. He is built. He is HOT. I lose track of the fact that regular Chef Instructor is absent today, and get used to the idea of spending the next 2 hours with some seriously beautiful eye candy.

He kicks off the class by introducing himself, giving us a little background on his culinary experience and then letting us know that not only will he be our Chef Instructor for the evening, but that he will also be our Chef Instructor for our upcoming lab class.

Party over here. Party over there. Shake your derriere. No jackasses. Just 6 weeks of Chef Instructor Hot. This. Is. Going. To. Be. Fabulous.

Corn Cob Protocol

So now that corn on the cob is in season, I need some help with the proper buying technique. Until about 2 months ago, the only corn I ever purchased came in a can with a lot of murky juice. Being that I'm in culinary school and all, I'm venturing out into the fresh vegetable arena.

At the grocery, I'm noticing that a trash can is located within 2 feet of the fresh corn. People hover over it and feverishly shuck their corn. I check the price. Maybe it's by the pound. People must be disposing of the husks to avoid excess weight. Not true. The corn happens to be priced per cob.

I go to a different grocery. Same routine ensues.

Obviously I'm missing something. All comments and feedback are welcome. I'm in desperate need of understanding corn cob etiquette.

Fa La La La La

Tonight in supervision class we discussed the importance of communication in an employer/employee relationship. Chef Instructor stressed the need to seek out the best way to communicate with each individual employee in your restaurant.

Among the suggestions were: written training manual, employee meetings, posters on the wall and…..singing. “Sometimes a song can get your point across,” says Chef Instructor.

I’ll be damned if I’m going to sing the recipe for macaroni and cheese.

For starters, who does that? For finishers, do people actually do that?

I Don't Do B's

On Thursday night, we got our Nutrition midterms back. Upon seeing my grade, an 84, I think I made a sound similar to – EEEEK. I don’t do B’s. I do A’s. Getting a B is unacceptable.

Out comes my notes and book as I meticulously examine each question I got wrong and search for a reason that it’s not really wrong.

Me (hand raised): Um, on number 31, you said the answer is avocado, and I put olive.

Chef Instructor: Ok.

Me: Well, I’m looking at the book right now and it also says the answer is olive.

CI: Hmmmm (scratches chin). You know, I think you’re right. Ok, I’ll give you points for that.

Fellow classmates: Sweeeeeet! I missed that too.

Me (hand raised again): On 34, you said the answer was olive oil and I put palm oil.

CI: Ok.

Me: Well, I’m looking at my notes from your lecture, and I think you said palm oil.

CI: Yeah, you’re right. Ok, I’ll give you points for that one too.

FC: Allison, you rock. You just brought me up to passing.

Me (hand raised for the third time): Ok, so on 43, I put USDA Food Pyramid and you’re saying the right answer is the Latin American Food Pyramid. According to the book, neither is correct. I’m thinking this was just a badly worded question.

CI: (After rifling through the book, notes and some head scratching) I agree. It’s a badly worded question. I’ll throw the question out and give you points for that one too.

FC: You’re on fire. If you keep it up, I might actually get a B!!

CI: Allison, anything else?

Me: No, I’m done. I just lobbied my way to an A.

You’re Just a Girl

So I volunteered to help out the parental unit with a promotional event for his business. Yes, I volunteered to wear a head to toe polyester gecko costume, complete with lizard head and feet in 100 degree Texas heat at a baseball game. What the hell was I thinking?

Little kids galore loved the gecko. I received more hugs in a two hour period from strangers than I have in my whole entire life, from anyone.

For those of you familiar with the gecko, HE often appears on TV commercials talking with a lovely BRITISH accent. Being fully aware of this fact, I did my best to avoid talking while in costume – I’m a girl and a horrible accent impersonator.

While doing my thing, some older thugs – maybe 15 or 16 years old, ambushed me. They were pulling my tail, beating on my head and otherwise acting foolish. Fairly immobile, I start waving my hands at the parental unit for backup. When he didn’t see my flailing arms, I started to shout for assistance in my girly, Texas voice.

Upon hearing my voice, the lizard abusers made a quick exit. But not before pointing out (with what seemed to be disappointment), “Oh…you’re just a girl.”

Yeah, I’m a girl. In a lizard costume. And next time, I’ll kick your ass.