“There’s no crying in Baseball” yelled Tom Hanks in the movie A League of Their Own. As I sat in our practical kitchen last month watching students cry in front of me I wanted to tell them the same thing, with a slight change. Because there is no crying in the kitchen!
Now to understand what I am talking about I have to tell you what I was doing. I was reassigned to our practical kitchen for a few blocks. We have second and fifth term practical tests for our students. The second term students have to prepare a soup and an entrée with three side vegetables in 2 ½ hours. The fifth term students have to prepare a first course fish course with assigned sauce and their own selected accompaniment and then an entrée with three side vegetables. Now let me tell you that they each have a six burner stove/oven, their own refrigerator and work station. They know the six menus before they come down and can, if they are on the ball, do the recipes and a time line for all of the stations. That way no matter which one they draw, they are prepared. Easy, right? Not so much…… Oh and did I mention the oral exam? They have to answer 7 our of ten questions to pass that part of the exam.
The second term students are so terrified that they read all of the questions and memorize the answers. They do all of the timelines and bring all of the recipes. For the most part they are prepared. The thing that gets them is the fear. When I tell you that they are quaking in their toques, I mean it! Shakes, cotton mouth, you would think that something else was going on at times. It’s crazy. I always tell them to relax but the fear is so great that they can’t.
I try my best to reassure them that they will do just fine but sometimes, things go wrong. As I sit at my tasting table wondering why the the Hollandaise looks like scrambled eggs and butter or why the consommé looks like a garbage disposal back up I feel like a parent wondering what I did wrong. We do our best but sometimes it just doesn’t stick. Our skills instructors at school are wonderful. They take these kids and teach them the basics for 9 weeks plus. But we all know that sometimes there are those who just don’t get it. And unfortunately for me, I get to see the results when they come to the practical kitchen.
Your sauce is broken, your consommé is cloudy, your poached fish has the texture of canned tuna fish, your vegetables are turning brown, your potatoes are missing, your roast chicken is raw, your stew is about as tender as rubber gaskets, your carrots taste like the sugar bowl was dumped into them. You name it, we see it. Your station looks like a bomb went off in it and you look like you rolled in the compost bin! What would a customer think if they had to pay money for this? Would you pay money for this? And these are only the second term students!
Now the fifth tern students have some really scary habits. I had one guy in there that I now refer to as White Pepper Dude. This kid put so much white pepper in his food that it all tasted like he had simmered all of his food in his dirty sock drawer. Unreal and nasty! And I had to taste it. I feel like a crash test dummy some times. Since I started working there, I have gained … pounds, my cholesterol and triglycerides are out of control and I anticipate stroking out any minute. All so our little darlings can learn to cook! I would like to put them in a room and force feed them bad food for a few months strait to teach them a lesson some times. Well we can all fanaticize sometimes, right? But all of these thoughts occur only when I get someone who clearly doesn’t have a clue or a passion for food. Who else would serve me raw poultry or well done steak when I asked for it Medium Rare. Why else would they prepare a sauce that looks like goopy glop or prepare a sauce piquant (which by the way is a brown sauce with cornichons) with a tomato sauce base. Yummy, tomato sauce with sliced pickles in it! It was a sight to behold, one I never want to see again. And did I mention the student who plated their side dishes and then started cooking the meat! This person was supposed to be graduating in two weeks. And then come the tears.
You know how well or bad you performed. You know if your food was good or nasty. You know if your station is messy or if you did not follow sanitation procedures. You know and yet on come the tears. And there I sit, feeling like a schmuck. I don’t like making people feel bad and I don’t like seeing them cry. I prefer that you walk out of there after giving me the high five. But there you have it. We have a special term in the business for bad cooks. We call them “Shoemakers”. Is it because their food tasted like old shoes or because they should probably be making shoes, not food? I don’t know really but that’s usually who the criers are. And one more thing…..”THERES NO CRYING IN THE KITCHEN” !

They call me Chef

Well that sounds nice dosen't it. At term of respect and authority. At first when the students addressed me as Chef, I almost looked to see who they were talking to. Then I realized it was me. At my catering business and then my restaurant, everyone called me Lynne. I was not used to the title! But it sounded so good, I thought I could easily get used to it. And when in rome.....

And so life as Chef began. When I saw my colleagues in the hall I also addressed them as chef. Hello Chef. How are you Chef. Nice to see you Chef. Chef what are you teaching these days. Chef, would you stop by and let me know what you think of my ham? Chef, your fish class is amazing. Chef, how come you wear a hard hat in class instead of a Chef Toque It started to sound like a Marks Brothers routine after awhile. As I greeted another in the hall one evening early on, he informed me that if I forgot anyone's name it was easy because they all start with a C.

So now I am in my own classroom, my first class. I have 21, mostly under 21 students and we are going to spend 6 weeks together. I am going to be teaching them Skills 1 and 2. We will be in class for 7 hours a day with an additional 1 hour dinner break. How many times a day do you think I will hear the word Chef?

21 Students many of whom have never picked up a knife before and we are going to start knife skills trays in the next two days. For 40 minutes every day they will have a tray with 4 onions, 2 shallots, 3 cloves of garlic, 2 potatoes, 1/2 cup parsley leaves and 2 roma tomatoes. I will teach them basic knife cuts and from that day for the next 6 weeks they will do a timed knife tray. For the first three days I hear the word Chef about 100 times an hour, seriously! Before during and inbetween the bloody trips to the nurse, all day until the end of class. Chef Chef Chef Chef Chef Chef Chef Chef Chef Chef Chef Chef Chef Chef Chef Chef Chef Chef Chef Chef Chef Chef Chef Chef.........and so on it goes.

By the end of class I feel like that Cheech and Chong Album from the 70's and the skit about Sister Mary Elephant. For those of you who have no idea what I am talking about, you should go rent it. In an progressivly louder and more aggressive voice, Sister Mary Elephant attempts to squelch her class by yelling :class, class, class, now class, class,
class, class, really class, and it ends by her screaching SHUT UP!

Now it gets louder and louder because my little darlings are quite full of energy despite the blood loss. At one point in class I am simply at a loss as to what to do. I collect myself and think of something dramatic that does not include yelling, screaching or even wining. I am holding a stainless steel all clad saute pal when it comes to me. And it's a swing, hear the crack of the pan and she hits one out of the park. I wound up with all that I had, did a girls fast pitch and laid that all clad down on the top of a stainless steel table. You could hear a pin drop. 21 twenty somethings and absolute pristine silence. You've got to love it. Ahh, its good to be Chef