Smiling Through the Stench

I just got the new issue of Time Out New York magazine (TONY for short) and the cover in bold typeface screams:

THE COOLEST JOBS (AND HOW TO GET THEM)

I tossed it, along with my knife kit, on the kitchen counter, locked our old, heavy door behind me and opened the fridge. I found a half full bottle (ahhh...optimism) of Sauvignon Blanc that I brought home from work and dumped its entire contents into a very large glass and kicked off my flip flops. I took a swig, set the glass on the bathroom sink and turned on the shower. I peeled of my sweaty, smudgy, flour dusted clothes and stepped in. It was only then, with the cool water raining on my face, washing away the days work, did I realize that I had been smiling the whole time.

Before I terrorize you anymore with images of me alone and grinning creepily in the shower, let me explain. Or at least wax poetic. Standing here, looking back at the past 9 years in which I searched and struggled and talked myself into jobs or career paths that I hoped would work out, trying to make square pegs fit in round holes, wishing I had that certainty that I was doing the right thing, it all makes sense now. I can identify those defining moments that led me to this point. I can see all of the choices, that at the time seemed like an exercise in futility, as key experiences that I needed to arrive at this moment. It's funny because some of the worst of the lot ended up yielding the biggest opportunities in the end.

I'll stop romanticizing now and just say I feel like a lucky girl who is getting what I want. And it only took me 9 years of looking to find it. I can use that TONY issue to line the proverbial bird cage because I'm finally working a full-time schedule for the first time in (cringe) three years. I'll be working 2 - 3 days each week at Food & Wine and 2 -3 days each week cooking a market driven, seasonal menu for the staff of Etsy. (If you aren't familiar with Etsy, you have to check out the website). For a better idea of the job, check out this article in the Wall Street Journal about the really cool chick (and chef) that I am working for. So, in short, I get to immerse myself in wine a few days each week and then I get to cook great food on the other days. Even better, I get to work week days and have a normal schedule and free evenings and weekends to spend with Mike.

Okay, I'm now convinced that a piano is going to fall on me as I walk down the street whistling happily. Or I've made everyone ill with my gushy bliss. Don't worry, I'm sure I'll be back to cursing out strangers and complaining about bad smells on the subway any second now. Oh seriously, speaking of, yesterday was like a game of "What the hell IS that?" - picture me looking like someone just farted in my face, which I do think was one round of the game on the C train. Other rounds included "I haven't brushed my teeth ever and you're stuck next to me on the F train", "Standing water that may be raw sewage", and "This actually burns". See? Back to my old self.

On another note, Mike's been taking really cool pictures lately with the Hipstamatic for iPhone app, so I am going to post some every now and then. The two here are of an evening walk across the Brooklyn Bridge. Enjoy!

Champagne Wishes on a Miller High Life Budget

Everyone has wish lists right? It's not just me that makes up outrageous dream scenarios like "If I could have a permanent home anywhere and two vacation properties, I would live in (fill in the blank), have a beach house on (fill in the blank), and a rustic retreat at (fill in the blank)".

I know how the listing for my dream New York City apartment would read: 2 bedroom, exposed brick, private rooftop access, chef's kitchen, high ceilings, hardwood floors...I could go on.

I also have a restaurant wish list of gastronomic temples that I must visit before I leave this earth. There are a disproportionate number on that list that are right here in Manhattan and while I've managed to check a few off that list, I don't exactly have the bank account that will allow me to pop into Per Se, Daniel, or Le Bernardin anytime soon. Those have to be saved for special occasions because in all likelihood, I will never be pulling in the kind of cash that permits Tuesday night dinners that cost more than a car payment. And that's okay because how sacred is a temple if you can get in any time?

For now, I've learned to make other kinds of wish lists. Mike would call it the New York bucket list because it's our list of things to do while we live here since we know we won't live here forever. We did the same thing when we knew we only had a year left in San Diego - made a list of everything we wanted to do but hadn't and everything we had done before and wanted to do again. It was a great little personal guide book for those days when you can't decide on what to do, can't agree on anything, or just can't find the creativity to come up with something. Our New York bucket list is pretty food heavy. So while we may not be able to afford a four course meal cooked by a culinary master, we can still enjoy the roots of this city's vibrant dining scene. I've learned two things in my recent transformation into Stingy MacFrugal. First, it's insanely easy to walk into a bar or restaurant in Manhattan and spend $12 on a drink or $75 on a mediocre meal for two. Second, it's also insanely easy to get ridiculously cheap meals that are exponentially more delicious and interesting than the $75 dinner date. And by cheap I mean, a pocket-full-of-change cheap. Here are some recent finds that have kept our bellies and wallets full.

1. Raffetto's


We are kicking ourselves for not discovering this spot sooner since it is exactly 3 blocks from our apartment, on Houston between Sullivan and MacDougal. It's an Italian specialty shop that makes fresh pasta, cut to order. You can get a pound of plain egg pasta cut into pappardelle or tagliatelle for little more than $2. So for the same price as a box of Barilla, you can have fresh, tender, toothy noodles. The plain is best for more complex sauces, but you can order pasta flavored with things like saffron, rosemary, black pepper, and squid ink that work beautifully tossed with some butter and parm. They also make delicious ravioli and tortellini stuffed with everything from wild mushrooms to pumpkin to lobster for about $5/pound. Everything else you would expect to find in an Italian specialty shop is here: sausage, cured meats, cheeses, housemade sauces, prepared foods, and quality imported oils, tomatoes, grains, and anchovies that are a must for a good Italian pantry.

2. Jackson Heights, Queens
One hour walking around this seriously mulit-culti neighborhood and we had spent about $10 and eaten food from 6 different countries. We followed the $1 Jackson Heights eating walk outlined in Time Out New York magazine (a great weekly guide to what's happening in the Big Apple) and were rewarded with savory Columbian pastries, steamy, spicy tamales, and aromatic veggie samosas. Stepping off the subway onto Roosevelt Ave is somewhat transformative as you realize just how big New York City is and how many different kinds of people call it home. And not just call it home but make it like the home they came from. With each block it was like a new pocket of Latin America, China or India. It kind of feels like the world is at your fingertips and you can just reach out and eat it.

3. Picnicking


While we are certainly not the first to discover the joy of the picnic, we've been packing our meals into a small soft-sided cooler (with a San Diego Chargers logo, of course, courtesy of my sister) and taking lunch or dinner al fresco. Our recent picnic spots have included: Brooklyn Bridge Park, which sits below the bridge on the Brooklyn Side of the East River (pasta salad and spectacular views of the Manhattan skyline), Central Park for free Summerstage concerts (Jimmy Cliff and a bag of summer cherries), Prospect Park in Brooklyn for their Celebrate Brooklyn free summer concert series (Ozomatli and watermelon salad), and Washington Square (street musicians, a drum circle, and sangria).

4. Any bar on MacDougal or Bleecker.
While we typically avoid the madness of MacDougal and Bleecker street bars because they cater to NYU undergrads and tourists, we sometimes get lured in because we live right down the street. Some are less douchey than others but all have drink specials so cheap, I sometimes think I am back in Buffalo. Draft beer for $2, pitchers for $5. You can't even get a beer for $5 in a most places here. So we stop in from time to time with a deck of cards or a set of dominoes and ignore the crappy Top 40 tunes, bartenders who look like Jersey Shore extras, and general lack of character (from the bar and patrons) because a $2 beer is a $2 beer. Best bang for our buck: Off the Wagon and the Fat Black Pussy Cat.

What Does This Have To Do With Anything?

While I don't have any earth shattering news this week, I am determined get back to regular posts and avoid having to write another apologetic "where has the time gone?" entry. (See February - July). I actually have plenty to share, but if I write about the new job I have to get it approved by my editors to make sure I am not giving away any industry secrets I suppose. So I guess I will just say that so far it's been fantastic and that the magazine is aptly named because there is an abundance of both food and wine for the taking. I'm hoping I'll be able to report back at this time next week that I have a second very exciting part-time job cooking and am finally employed full-time (goodbye empty pockets!), but if I don't bring it up, just pretend like I never mentioned it because that will mean that I didn't get the job and I won't feel like explaining.

In other news, over the past several months, I've been volunteering at Edible Magazine events with my Wanna Spoon partner in crime, Linda Lou (you may also know her as A La Grecque). Here's Linda at the Brooklyn Uncorked event in May that featured Brooklyn chefs and Long Island wines.



Edible magazine is a fantastic local publication that focuses on well, everything that is edible and local. You probably have an edition in your city or region and I highly recommend checking it out. They feature lots of interesting people and places that are worth getting to know. Plus they put on and sponsor fun local food events. A few weeks ago, Mike and I volunteered at Meatopia, a BBQ and beer event held on Governor's Island featuring 25 chefs doing their take on natures gift to us: dead animals. We spent the day handing out copies of the mag and eating a ton of meat and drinking local beer from Sixpoint Brewery. It's a great way to attend cool events for free (it's the cheapskate in me) and meet great people who like to eat and drink. Here's me at Meatopia:



Tonight we (Mike, me and our adopted Greek baby, Linda Lou) are attending Good Beer at the Brooklyn Academy of Music. It's 22 chefs cooking 22 dishes to pair with 22 beers. This time we are attending, not volunteering because they throw you a freebie every now and then for helping out. I am very much looking forward to it. I don't think I was always this way and I'm pretty sure it's because Manhattan is a money pit, (Side Note: Remember that movie with Tom Hanks and Shelley Long? For some reason, as a 9 year old that movie really spoke to me and I watched it every single time it came on TV. It probably had something to do with the scene where the bathtub crashes through the floor, but whatever, I loved that movie), anyway, I was saying, I get so excited about getting free stuff now. It's almost like "HA! You can take 40% of our income for rent, and charge me twice as much for eggs, and force me to spend $8 on a single load of laundry that I have to carry down three flights of stairs and around the corner to the laundromat, but guess what city, I win this time!".

So in addition to be cranky with strangers, I am now cheap. Maybe when I turned 33, my brain got confused and thought I was 83 and I am now an old woman trapped in a young woman's body. Kind of like Freaky Friday, but the version with Jodie Foster, not Lindsay Lohan. Or EVEN better Like Father, Like Son, which is the male version of Freaky Friday with Kirk Cameron (sound of 4th grade me sighing) and Dudley Moore (crickets). In this case, I am not actually switching bodies with anyone, just slowly going crazy, obviously.

Does Anyone Know Where This Train Is Going?

I don't know how this happened. I have been known to avoid things I don't have the energy to deal with until they become this dark cloud hanging over my head or a weight on my shoulders constantly reminding me that I have unfinished business. The best analogy I can come up with is that the last few months have been like the aftermath of a wedding. If you're married, you probably know what I'm referring to. You spend months, even years planning your big day, endlessly researching invitation styles, centerpieces, favors and a bunch of other crap that doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things (no offense to my friends about to tie the knot). You have this perfect day, a week of honeymoon sex and bliss, and then you come back to reality and what do you have? The rest of your life. Which if you're like any other bride, you've only thought about one day for the past 12 months and have neglected to think about the day after that or the day after that. Not to say that those following days aren't great days, but there's an adjustment period where you have to switch gears and refocus your energy on sustaining day-to-day happiness and rid yourself of the princess fantasies. So basically, graduating culinary school was a lot like that. There was this huge sense of achievement and possibilities, a lovely vacation and then what did I have? The rest of my life.

I've spent the past few months interviewing, working here and there, and doing a fair amount of traveling. And every time I sat down to write about it, I just felt lost. I didn't know what to say because I wasn't sure what the hell I was doing or what direction I was moving in, so I did what I tend to do when I become overwhelmed. I distracted myself and pretended like this blog never existed. But I always knew it was there, waiting for me to come back, and in a way taunting my writers block. So I bit the proverbial bullet today, dusted myself off and got back on the wagon (cliche hat trick!). I thought about writing in detail about all the things I've done and the ups and downs, but I am nothing if not lazy, so you're getting a blog equivalent of a recap episode so I don't have to linger in the past and can look ahead at what's to come. Here we go!

Previously, on Emily's life:

1. We celebrated our 7th wedding anniversary in May. I am happy to report that the aftermath of our wedding has been a great ride.

2. In May, I applied and interviewed for several jobs, thought each interview was a raging success, and then was repeatedly punched in the face with rejection. While it's amusing now, had I blogged about it, I would have had to send anyone reading free Xanax to recover from the downer. And let's face it, I needed it more than you.

3. June was a much better month. I was able to do some giving back. By giving back, I mean fly off to Paris on a whim to comfort a lonely friend who had just moved there. And by comfort I mean wander aimlessly around the City of Light eating, drinking, and people watching with a side (trip) of Brussels sprinkled in. Interestingly enough, it was better than Xanax and gave me a fresh, conquer-the-world perspective.

4. I picked up some freelance catering gigs in June with some fantastic women chefs. I got to cook alongside a Top Chef contestant for a bunch of fashion industry types (and models) and I did a really fun party up in Connecticut for some arty people with a beautiful country home. Hopefully this will turn into more freelance work because I very much enjoyed it.

5. Mike had a conference in Atlantic City for an entire week, so I took a bus down and joined him for a few days. While it was lovely to spend some time laying on the beach and walking hand in hand on the boardwalk in the evenings, there are two things I won't be doing again: taking the bus to AC or doing anything that involves AC. I'll try to explain this delicately. People watching in New York City is always entertaining, sometimes a train wreck, but mostly just wacky fun. People watching in Atlantic City, you just want to take a giant broom and sweep everyone there under a rug. Then roll up the rug, put it in a weighted garbage bag and toss it off a pier. Better yet, we could put the rug in the Greyhound bus I rode down in and drive it off the pier. So much for delicately.

6. We spent the weekend of the 4th with our good friends Trisha and Mike, boating the days away in the waters of the great white north. Or whatever Canada is nicknamed. Despite the fact that everything that possibly could go wrong related to our plans went wrong, we had a fantastic weekend with perfect weather. It was so nice to be away from the city.

7. I finally reeled in a job from the endless sea of interviews and one that I am very excited about at that. It's a part-time, six month position at Food & Wine magazine in which I will be assisting the two wine editors with story research, wine tastings, wine inventory management (I have built a three bottle cooler into all of my purses so the bottles won't clink together when I make off with them each evening), and hopefully some website writing. It should be a great opportunity that will bring more of the same.

8. I'm still rowing through the endless sea to fill in the rest of the work week as well as the gaping hole in our bank account, I'll keep you posted.

9. I turned 33 this weekend and I am convinced that this is going to be my best year yet. I don't know why, but there's just something about the number that makes me think it's magical. That's the koolaid I am drinking today anyway.

10. I think I am becoming too New York for my taste. I was walking home from yet another interview today, which was on the Upper West Side (73rd and Columbus). I called my sis and decided to walk for a while and chat since it didn't feel like the inside of a dragon's mouth outside. I cut through Central Park and then headed down Broadway, which of course took me straight into the lions den of Times Square. I caught myself telling two different people to "Watch it!" when they stepped in my path because they were so busy staring dumbly at the pretty lights. About 20 blocks south, I was chatting with Mike (earphones in) and some kid approached me with a clipboard for Greenpeace or gay rights or whatever, it was easily the 14th kid who had approached me while I was walking. As he started to talk, I cut him off with a quick "I'm on the phone" and tried to maneuver around him. He ran alongside me, telling me he knew I wasn't actually on the phone. I stopped and loudly said "Yes I am, NOW LEAVE ME ALONE!". Mike just laughed. I tried to recall the exact moment in time when I became a rude, surly creature, but I think it may just be a transformation that everyone who lives here goes through from the constant barrage of leaflets, campaigners, panhandlers, drug dealers, knockoff accessories pushers, tourists, crazies and morons.

So now you are all caught up on my last few months and can picture that I will soon need Botox to get rid of the lines I am getting from scowling at people.

Vacation: The Nor Cal Edition

Nice To See You Again, Pacific...

Vacations always seem to come just when you need them, don't they? I guess that's because we plan them that way, but still, we needed this vacay...bad. Typically with vacation, I am counting down the days before I go. I have every day mapped out, restaurant reservations confirmed, and plans A, B, and C on paper. I know, I am so "fly by the seat of my pants". Look, it works for us. I get to carefully orchestrate the perfect symphony of activities that will culminate in the most beautiful vacation ever experienced and Mike gets to be surprised on a daily basis about what we are doing. And lest you think I am completely rigid, I always have options for us and am more flexible than I sound. This time around was different. I have been so busy with school, internships and volunteering (i.e. begging for jobs), that I didn't have time to do my usual research and development sessions for this trip. It was literally the day before when I realized that school was over and now it was time to pack for a week away in Northern California! The big things were squared away like hotel reservations, car rental, and loose plans with family and friends, but I didn't even have a consolidated itinerary...in a notebook...with all confirmations and travel documents...and contact information...and restaurant reviews. I know, I know, I am a complete control freak. Anyway, valuable lesson learned: Overplanning a vacation turns out almost exactly the same as a loosely planned vacation. With one exception, without all the obsessive planning and coordinating, I had no time to build the trip up to unreachable expectations, so anything that happened good or less good, was just gravy. My whole belief system about planning and execution is crumbling around me. (Assumes fetal position).

Regardless, it was a fantastic trip filled with great friends and family, terrific food and drink, and glorious, wide open spaces filled with green things and clean air. It was also accompanied by that familiar feeling we get when we visit somewhere we love (and we looooove Nor Cal), where we have a daily discussion of if we could live there, where exactly we would want to live, what the pros and cons of living there would be, before we ultimately decide that it's not a decision we need to be making right now.

We spent a full week blowing around the Northern California coastline with a stop in Sacramento and the East Bay for reunions with friends and fam. We made sure to set aside several days of time for the two of us because, as I said, we sooo needed it and as I'm sure anyone who lives far from home knows, it's easy to get caught up in trying to see every person you have ever known while you are in town for a few days. Following are pictures from our week of (mostly) bliss.


I Left My Heart Here


Good Friends, Good Food at One Market Street in San Francisco


Does It Make You Want To Throw Your Arms Out and Twirl?


Our Room at the Glendeven Inn in Mendocino

The Final and the Finality

That gorgeous hat would not be possible without this man

As evidenced by me rocking the toque above, I passed my final. That, of course, does not tell the whole story. The night before, I went to bed early, ready to rest up and be refreshed for the final push (and the subsequent festivities) thinking that I was calm, confident, and prepared. I could not sleep to save my life. It's what happens when I am pretending to not have anxiety about something. My mind won't turn off and I lay there thinking about things like what outfits to pack for my trip and if I have time to get my brows done. Then when I finally acknowledge that I might be stressed about the thing that I am avoiding thinking about and deal with it, I fall asleep. So I woke up feeling like I got hit by a truck and proceeded to drink way too much coffee while reviewing my recipes over and over. There were only 3 dishes I did not want to draw for my final: the dreaded duck, the cod dish (which I had only done once in class), and the stupid lemon tart. I got the cod and lemon tart combo obviously. I was half expecting them to throw in the duck as an added torture.

My attitude quickly passed and I reminded myself that I knew exactly what to do and just had to stay organized and on time. For the first few hours I was clickin' along, I got my tart dough done right off the bat so it had time to rest. I made my lemon curd and got it chilled down. I made my potatoes, kale and chorizo for the cod dish. I cleaned and cooked my clams. I rolled out my tarts and baked them. I got my station set up with a hot water bath, clam broth, and clarified butter to cook the cod. I put all my garnishes on ice on my station and I started to sear and baste my cod. I felt great. Then before I knew it I had like 5 minutes to plate and get out the door. Chef Jason was shouting at us to push and plate and GO! GO! GO! It was totally unnerving and I started to panic. I knew I was going to be late because there were so many damn components on the plate. And I was late and the plates were a little sloppy, not too bad, but a little. And my cod was a little dark. I ran the four plates on a giant tray down to the judges room and then ran back to finish those stupid tarts.

My station was a disaster and I still had to candy the pineapple, which still had to be cut into rings, make gingered whip cream, and fill the tarts with the lemon curd, which still needed sour cream added to it. And then I had to plate it all. I only had 35 minutes and I was a wreck. I spent about 10 minutes working like a complete disaster in panic mode before I got a grip, cleaned up my station and calmed down. I plated my tarts on time and despite several attempts at ruining them, they actually looked pretty darn good.

I was so relieved when it was over but I was also somewhat disappointed in myself. I just didn't expect to be in panic mode. I hadn't worked that way before and I was sort of dumbfounded that I briefly fell apart when it mattered most. That feeling mostly washed away as we walked into the judges room and were handed a glass of champers. Something about tiny bubbles calms me down.

I got nice feedback from my judges, two of which were Andre Soltner (look him up) and Andrea Beeman from Top Chef Season 1. The only complaints were that my fish was too dark, which I knew. My tart was perfection, which I almost wanted to tell the esteemed French master Chef Soltner, was a total accident, but instead took a giant gulp of bubbly. Once we walked out of judges room, it was pure pandemonium. We changed and practically ran to our local watering hole O'Neail's (which is coincidentally Steve's bar on Sex in the City for all the ladies out there), where our favorite bartenders where waiting with congratulations and shots of Jameson. The rest of the night is a blur of squealing, jumping up and down, drinks, more drinks, cab rides, karaoke (which was more of a scream-a-long complete with light up tambourines), and an early morning trip to McDonald's in which we bought everything they had left to sell. This included 6 chicken sandwiches of various shapes and sizes. We complained about the lack of fries and were told that we could kindly wait a half hour until 5:30 when breakfast service began. One of my favorite classmates, Sheries Jubilee (as she is sometimes called) pointed out to the cashier (in Westchestah accent) that they didn't serve fries with breakfast so we would be passing on that offer. I don't think those were her exact words.



Sheries Jubilee and Me

After a snooze til noon, I managed to get up, shower and get a mani/pedi for only the third time in a year! We can't wear nail polish in the kitchen and my nails have looked raggedy since I've been in school. The good thing it that when you decorate your hands with cuts, burns, blisters and black fingernails it distracts from the lack of polish and shaping.

Graduation was a big, smiley, lovefest between classmates and chefs, with several jokes about our all nighter thrown in. Afterwards, we celebrated with our good friends, Susan & Tommy, and her hilarious parents, who we like to call the Senator (because he looks like one) and the Commissioner (for her inquisitive detective skills). We went to Peter Luger for some insanely good steak in a sort of Old New York mafia atmosphere. It was delish and I was ready for bed by 9pm.

Now that the dust has settled, the finality of it all has really settled in. I can't believe my school days are over and that I won't be roaming the kitchens of FCI any longer. I already miss my chefs and classmates, even my favorite dishwasher, whose name I don't know because we always called him Amigo. I miss butter sandwiches (stolen baguettes smeared with butter and sprinkled with sea salt). I don't miss those dumpy pants, boxy jackets and ill fitting hats. I do miss coming home with duck and short ribs and tart dough and vanilla beans. I miss Wednesday night at O'Neail's. And sometimes Monday. And Friday. I miss the camaraderie. But life goes on and now it's time for the next chapter. And that next chapter happens to be a vacation.



A La Grecque, Chef Jason & Me

It All Comes Down To This

Chef Jason drops some knowledge on Michelle and Vera


Why must all good things come to an end? It's a stupid, stupid expression that I wish weren't true. I suppose if good things never ended you wouldn't be able to appreciate them and they wouldn't be worth nearly as much. I cooked last night at L'Ecole for the last time as a student and it was bittersweet. I'm ready for the next chapter, but I can't believe my days of sweating, minor cuts and burns,and causing mischief are over. Not to mention the fact that I may actually have to start paying for vanilla beans instead of swiping them from pastry. And parchment paper. And peppercorns. Although I'm pretty sure A La Grecque has stockpiled enough FCI loot through her knife kit smuggling system that I could call on her if I need a pastry bag.




Jamie (Farmer Chef), Susan, and Apphia (far right) pay attention while Linda (A La Grecque) is in typical form

Tomorrow is our final exam, which we've been anticipating for nine months, and the reality and finality of this whole experience is starting to sink in. I remember back in July when I was just finishing up Level 1, I volunteered along with a few classmates to help Chef Nic set up for his Level 6 class final. The final works like this: Each student draws a number (literally from a bowl). The number corresponds to a pairing of dishes, either a garde manger and saucier dish (appetizer and meat) or a poissonier and patissiere dish (fish and pastry). Each number also has two corresponding times, when you will present your first and second dishes to the judges. You're graded on how you work in the kitchen while preparing your food: Is your station set up correctly? Do you work neatly and efficiently? Are you demonstrating proper technique? Are you wearing gloves when plating your food? Is your food being held at the proper temperature? Did you walk out the kitchen door with your plates for the judges at the appointed time exactly? When it arrives at the judges table: Is your food the proper temperature? If it's hot food, are your plates hot? Is your presentation neat and clean? And then of course, is it cooked and seasoned properly and does it taste how it's supposed to taste? These are all things that have been drilled into our heads since Level 1 in preparation for this day. When I helped Chef Nic set up the final last summer, I remember assembling a tray for each student containing the ingredients they would need to prepare their dishes. I could not comprehend being able to make a pan roasted halibut and baked alaska all under the pressure of a time clock and the prospect of failure and not graduating. As we watched the Level 6 students file past the classroom windows on their way to draw numbers, they waved at Chef Nic with big smiles on their faces. They looked excited. I remember Jersey and I looking at each other like "How are they smiling?! I would be freaking out!".

And now here I am. Tomorrow, it will be me and my class, who I have grown to know and love, well, in some cases it's more like tolerate, but mostly love. But tomorrow will be our one day that this last year has been leading up to. A few hours to show what we've learned and make all the chefs who've taught us what we know proud. I'm excited, I'm sure I'll be nervous, but I'm ready to kick ass. Send me some of those vibes tomorrow night around 9pm Eastern time, so when my hands are shaking as I put the garnish on my plates (with gloves, of course) I know that there are lots of people rooting for me.


Me & Jen Brown (the only student who EVERYONE calls by her full name, or JB for short, I've also referred to her as Michael Phelps in previous posts)