Second-Stream

I have a lot on my mind as I begin my next class at the CIA.

What sucks about this forum is that I can't openly express myself out of fear of offending my classmates, my school, or the chefs that I work with every day.

Regardless of that, I want you all to know that I have finally found the thing that makes me want to cry every time I have even the slightest trace of alcohol in my system. I was never the person that cries when they drink, but dammit, I am now. Even sitting here by myself, having had my nightcap, I am on the verge of tears because of an issue at school.

All I will admit is that it has to do with a chef that I nearly idolize, and a blatant disregard on his part (or maybe it ISN'T a disregard, which would make this situation even more upsetting) to invite his most loyal student to work on a large-scale project with him and a group of other students. Instead, he invited one of my classmates to work with him. Maybe I'm being immature, maybe I should be happy that this certain classmate got the opportunity to build something amazing with such an inspirational chef. The reality is, however, is that I'm upset. I'm more than upset; I'm devastated. I feel like I have never come in first place for any position on any team, and this realization coming at me from all sides is almost too much to handle.

On top of all of that, I have been invited to work with a chef that I respect less than any other chef on campus. Oh, quit your complaining, you say, you at least got invited to work with a chef, you say; she at least trusts your judgement. I was a second-stream pick. She would not have even invited me if the other person was unavailable this week. I was a second-stream option for a less-than-reputable chef.

How does that make YOU feel? Knowing me, knowing how low my self-confidence is to begin with, how do you think I feel about all of this?

If you can't answer that question, I will answer it for you. I am down in the freaking dumps. I want to cry every time I think about this. When I'm not thinking about how I've been rejected by someone I hold to such a high esteem, I can't ever seem to smile. Nothing I do truly uplifts me, because I know, in the back of my head, that I am never going to be a star player in any team, because I barely ever get off the bench.

I can't wait to get out of this place, to get into the real world where someone like me isn't ignored by chefs. I'll never be submersed in a group of people who are this much better than me ever again. Or maybe I will. Maybe I will always be less-than-the-best. Maybe I made a terrible life decision. Maybe everyone I ever knew is right. Maybe I should have taken a desk job after college.

I am so sick of doubting myself. All I want, in my entire life, is to be accepted by my colleagues as an equal, and to not be viewed as that ginger weirdo who sticks out like a sore thumb in a bakeshop. I'm not sorry for who I am, but I am sorry that only a select few people can accept me.

Anyway, I'll share some pictures from my Contemporary Cakes class with you now, because I think the cakes I made were decent. They were better than decent, they were pretty. I like them. And I hope you like them too.

Raspberry Entremet 

Chocolate Peanut Butter Entremet 

Interior of the Chocolate Peanut Butter Entremet

Interior of the Lemon Basil Entremet

Macaron Deco

"Take Five" Entremet

Modern Carrot Cake Entremet 

Interior of the "Modern Carrot Cake" Entremet

Pea Crisps, Modeling Chocolate Peas, Quenelle of Whipped Cream Deco on the Peas and Carrots Entremet

Peas and Carrots Entremet

Interior of the Peas and Carrots Enremet

Praline and Chocolate Bombe

Strawberry Coconut Marshmallows

So there it is, my last class wrapped up in a photo series. I'm on to the next class, which is Specialty Breads with Chef Welker. This class is going to be exhausting, mostly because it starts at 5 AM. I'm excited to take a class from a CMB who truly has a passion for his career, and I'm excited to move forward with my education. I just hope to walk out of this class less disappointed than I was last Friday.

Kitchen Bullies

I have something to say.

I have something to say that will most likely upset people.

The people who will most likely be upset are the people I see in class. Every. Single. Day.

You guys are rude and egotistical. You think that whatever you have to say is more important than what anyone else is saying; having a conversation with you people is like trying to scream over a bullhorn. Being interrupted at this school is like breathing, in that it happens at least every 15 seconds. It's just about as easy as breathing as well, it occurs naturally and without resistance. I have ceased trying to prove any point, even when I feel very strongly about it, because, well, you wouldn't care anyway. By the time I gather my thoughts and find the courage to speak up, you've moved on from a conversation about the proper consistency of pastry cream to the tragedy of lemmings leaping to their death off of cliffs.

That's just the beginning.

In class, there are very few people who know how to act like professionals. Rolling your eyes, spouting off unnecessarily sarcastic quips, getting angry about a few dirty dishes left in the sink, raging out not only on your fellow classmates, but people you call your friends...all of these things are unacceptable. At first I believed that the six months of experience required to attend this school was to make sure that you knew what you were getting into, but now I think it is absolutely necessary to teach individuals how to work closely with their peers. If you are at work and you speak to your co-workers or your boss the way that some of my classmates speak to each other, you would be fired. I don't care where you work, you will always have a boss. If you own a place and speak to your investors improperly, they'll stop funding you. If you work in a restaurant as a Chef and speak to your owner in a sarcastic manner, you're going to get fired. If you're working at a pastry station in a hectic kitchen and a line cook catches you talking shit because he left a dirty pan on his grill for longer than you liked, you're going to get yelled at.

The worst part about all of this is that I feel bullied. I feel that the people who speak so terribly to my peers have no business doing so, as we are all on the same level. Some of us may be able to decorate a cake better, some of us might like chocolates, and some of us might want to teach later on, but regardless of our different aspirations, we are all the same. We are all in the same class, paying the same money for the same semi-disappointing education. We have our good days and we have our bad days, but in the end, we're all in this together. Being surrounded by these people has made it harder and harder for me to remember this. I am here to learn, and my learning is being impeded by the terrible attitudes floating around the classroom. It's hard to squeeze every bit of knowledge out of a chef when you're being screamed at by someone. It's extremely difficult to build lasting relationships with people because you are never sure whether or not they're going to like you the next day. I understand you're tired. I'm tired! I'm so tired! But you know what, I truck through it.

This rant does not apply to everyone I have met at this school. And even the people it does apply to, it does not always concern you. I believe, in my heart, that everyone here is genuinely (at the very least) a decent person, and that we all want to learn to be the best chefs, cooks, pastry chefs, confectioners, and bakers that we can. That's what you're paying for, right?

So check yourself at the door. Follow the best advice I have heard from any boss ever and leave your grievances at home. Don't bring them into the kitchen. If you can't check your attitude for your own sake, at least try to think of the people who are trapped in the room with you for a constant 6 hours. We don't have a choice but to listen to you bully us. Please know that what you say affects everyone in your proximity. When one of my classmates treats another one with disrespect, it makes me feel awful inside, but saying something is damn near impossible without feeling the wrath myself.

I don't want anyone to think that what I'm saying is about any one person. It's about all of us. I know there are times when I could be more respectful to people, I will never deny this. But dammit, I'm trying. My goal for life-after-extern was to work on my attitude. I didn't want to belittle anyone; I didn't want to be a bully anymore. I want to find a way to take this school for granted and get so involved with the chefs and educators here that I might actually get my money's worth. I wish that everyone felt the same way that I did, because if you all did, I wouldn't walk out of class every day feeling like a shriveled shell of a person.

I know there are those of you out there who are unhappy because of more than just our most recent chef. I want to apologize on my behalf, and on the behalf of anyone else who has made you feel like you're any worse than anyone else on this campus. Who are we to judge you? We're all just students ourselves! If you ever feel like this, search deep down inside yourself and decide whether or not you have the passion to continue. Do you? Then remember the wise words of Chef Schorner when he said, "I can teach skill, but I cannot teach passion."

To conclude this seemingly never-ending rant, I just want to encourage everyone to at least try to be a professional in our bakeshops from now on. Even when life is hard, put a smile on and dig your hands right into that bread dough, or that sugar, or that buttercream. Remember what you're here for. It's not to strut around the kitchen and make everyone else feel inferior to you, it's to learn. If you aren't here to do that, then please leave; you're getting in my way.

Catch-Up

I wanted to start with, "As you all might know, it is past my bedtime..."

But that's no longer true, none of you know what's going on with my life because I am simply too busy to maintain this blog. I'm going to try to do better with it, however, because I want to be able to look back at it to reminisce as much as you guys want to know that I haven't perished in the ovens of my bakeshops.

Since I got back from externship, I have:
- moved into an apartment with my boyfriend

- completed my first Cakes class with Chef Cavotti

- completed Chocolates and Confections with Chef Peter Greweling

- begun Contemporary Cakes with Chef Rossomando

To begin, I will discuss our apartment situation. When we first moved here, our apartment predicament was tragic, at best. Now we live in a decent place with a great landlord. We might live in a really terrible part of town, but all of our appliances are new, our hardwood floors had never been lived on, and we don't pay an exorbitant amount of rent. All in all, we are happy with our place.

Cakes class was a blur. I took it as soon as I got back, and I loved it. Chef Cavotti is the most laid back chef in the entire school, so taking her class allowed for a lot of creative license. My partner Kara and I made a really amazing cake, and since then I have been recruited to make at least two wedding cakes. I couldn't be more excited to work on these projects.

Mine and Kara's Orchid Cake

My individual (obviously) cake project. Totoro!

Chocolates and Confections was the best class I have ever taken, throughout all of my college experiences. Chef Peter Greweling is a Certified Master Baker, and his title is well-deserved. He is not only intelligent, but that man matches and exceeds my level of cynicism in the most delightful way. I felt like I met a chef that I could communicate with, even after I was done with his class. In fact, I went back today to finish a project I had left to crystallize over the weekend, and he was nothing but welcoming and excited that I had actually come back to finish what I had started. I think, after taking his class, that I may want to pursue a career working with chocolate and creating confections. After this class, I see a light at the end of the tunnel. I have always loved chemistry, and with chocolates, I have finally found a way to work with science and food in the same field. I discussed a few places to apply to with Chef Greweling, and he said he would love to discuss other places with me if I found some to share with him. I was so fortunate to have him as a chef. Here are a few pictures of the things I made in his class!

Passion Vanillas

Coffee flavored Poodle Truffles

Pumpkin Caramel Truffles

Lemon Logs

Toasted Hazelnut Mazipan

Peanut Butter Meltaways

Cashew and Cardamom Turkish Delights

Sleeping Beauties AKA Milkyways
 

Mint Julep Shell Truffles

Looking rough at the Graduation Buffet

To conclude, I just want to apologize. I know that some of you (mostly my family) follow this blog quite closely, and that I have not been living up to my expectations. I will try to keep you more updated with the events in my life, and especially with the things that I am creating during my remaining time at the CIA. I am currently in Contemporary Cakes, and I will be able to post pictures of my products soon. 

As always, thanks for reading!

This is my life.

I'm sitting in the Barnes and Noble in Poughkeepsie drinking a decaf coffee, stealing internet. Well, it's not really stealing if they offer it for free.

The reason I am here instead of camped out on my super-comfy couch is accompanied by a rather long story; here it is.

Daniel and I left Atlanta on June 2nd. We were supposed to leave the 3rd but jumped the gun when we realized it would take us less time to pack than anticipated. We packed everything into our 14' Uhaul, attached my car to the tow, and headed out of the city around 8:30 that night. Of course, because we decided to leave early, there was a torrential downpour that made our journey especially interesting.

Either way, we made it to Knoxville a little after midnight, where we promptly fell asleep.

The next day we had to pack up the rest of my belongings from the condo that I lived in for five years. Fortunately, my brother Jeremy lives there now, so he had already put most of my stuff in boxes and transferred it to multiple storage units. It took three (and at the very end, four) people several hours to move all of the movies, books, furniture, electronics, posters, and other various sundries into the Uhaul. I don't think anyone will ever understand the amount of STUFF that I accumulated during the time I lived in the condo, besides, of course, the people who helped me move. It was insane, and is still a little overwhelming to think about.

Anyway, I met friends for dinner at Naples the night of the 3rd and it was wonderful. 15 people ended up showing up to wish Daniel and I the best of luck. It was a great time. After dinner, we went to bed early.

The next morning, we awoke early to begin our journey back north. I said goodbye to Jeremy and his roommate Sean, and we hit the road towards Virginia. When we made it to Harrisonburg, we stopped for the night.

Again, the next day we got up early to make our way to New York. It took us around 14 hours for the total trip, and driving that long in the Uhaul with my car in tow nearly made me homicidal. The idea that everything I owned was strapped to the back of what sounded like an engine that would barely make it to our destination was, well, terrifying. Alas, we made it.

This is where it gets fun.

When we arrived in Poughkeepsie, we called our landlord, John. He said he would send the Super down right away to give us our keys. I want to explain something to all of you: Poughkeepsie is AWFUL. It is a ghetto in every sense of the word. Most of the businesses have failed, there is rampant crime and the police seem to be more focused on issuing speeding tickets than protecting citizens. Basically, I hate this city. I thought, however, that the apartment that I found for us was at least decent. We quickly discovered that this was not the case. When Justin, the Super, arrived, we were shocked by what we saw in the apartment. There was no refrigerator. There were no light fixtures. There were still ladders and paint cans in the back room from where they started to renovate but never actually finished. Justin was surprised to hear that we were supposed to move in that day, as John had not warned him in advance.

Where the fridge was supposed to be.

Hole in the back yard where the deck was supposed to make an appearance.

The bedroom!

Perfect landscaping.

Needless to say, we left. Angrily. And then we realized we were homeless in one of the worst cities I have ever been in. To make matter worse, one of my good friends had ridden the train all the way up from New York City to help us move into the apartment that we no longer had. My first reaction? Call my Dad. Fortunately, my Dad has this awesome ability to keep his head in situations like this. The first thing he said was, "Well, obviously you need to start looking for a new place to live." He then instructed me to send John an email with specific phrases to include in case he tried to take us to court over canceling the lease on such short notice.

Next step? Call Daniel's former landlord. Kobe said he was an hour away and would call us as soon as he arrived back in the city. While we waited, we took my friend to Kavos and ate delicious gyros.

When Kobe arrived, he showed us three apartments. We finally settled on a nice, airy place on the second floor. We're currently paying $100 more per month than we originally had planned, but I will sacrifice that money any day to live in a place where the landlord cares enough to keep it nice. I love our place.

Kitchen with all new appliances!

View of the living room.

Our super-awesome couch (thanks Nathan!)

Bedroom with all of my old furniture.

Daniel's workspace.

Fortunately, my friend from school, Kara, told us we could stay the night at her house in Poughkeepsie until we could call to get electricity and internet set up. That night was awesome, and her family's hospitality meant the world to us.

The next morning was a different story. We called the electric company, only to find out that it couldn't be turned on until the 10th. I called Time Warner Cable; same story.

It was at that moment we decided to spend a few days with Daniel's family in Binghamton, which is Daniel's home town. There I made macarons for his sister, raspberry cheesecake brownie bars for his mother, and received a bunch of Christmas presents that we missed out on last year. We left this morning.

Found a beautiful ridge on a backroad to Binghamton.

What a perfect state.

When we arrived in Poughkeepsie, we called a friend and he helped us finish up the last of the moving. We now have more stuff in our tiny apartment than will ever fit comfortably, but we're happy. We wish we had electricity so we could at least turn a fan/light/television on, but we'll make it until the morning.

This adventure, as well as all of the other ones we have shared, reinforces my belief that Daniel and I can make it through anything. We have dealt with homelessness, lack of resources, and extensive travel in the past week and we have only been grumpy with each other a few times. That's got to be some sort of miracle, especially because I am a naturally grumpy person.

Anyway, in one week, school starts. I can't believe how chaotic my life is, and how I've just been able to accept it and embrace every challenge that has been thrown my way. I feel like Superwoman, and I can't wait to continue in school with all of the great friends I have made here.

C'est ma vie!

Frustrated.

On days like this, where I am unbelievably frustrated and antsy, I try to remember the positive things I have done since I moved to Atlanta. I've made a list, and I will share it with all of you.

1. I moved to a new city without much of an idea of where to live.
2. I found an apartment for Daniel and me all by myself.
3. I took a job at a restaurant I had never been to, working with people I had never met or heard of.
4. I haven't had a panic attack in nearly five months.
5. I stood strong and worked hard through the toughest workweek of my life (for 110 hours).
6. I have maintained a relatively positive attitude and outlook through this entire experience, even though I have been sick, mistreated, and stressed.
7. I finished my externship manual extremely early.
8. I have struggled through adversity that I didn't think was still a major issue, and now I am more aware of the battle I will be fighting for the rest of my career.
9. I have learned things, tons of things.
10. I am continuously realizing that I am stronger than I thought I was, and that I can be just as tough as the people I work with.

Today is a rough day, and it has barely even started. I am currently living in a situation that I damn near despise; being expected to clean like a maid FOR FREE, pay unexpected bills for a service I barely use, and most of all maintain a household full of nasty college boys, all while trying to get enough sleep over the screaming of drunk girls in my living room and loud upstairs neighbors that may or may not constantly be playing DDR. I'm ready for a change.

At any other point in my life, I would make the change. I would never stand for any of this as my normal self, but right now it isn't worth it. I can see the light at the end of this twisted, confusing, dark tunnel. Eleven days you guys, all I have is eleven days left. I can do this.

Comfortably Uncomfortable.

Coming back to Restaurant Eugene after the Masters has been difficult. I've only worked twice this week, and, honestly, that might be the problem. What is down time? What do I do with it? How do I balance real life with work? I feel dumb reacting like this after only a week, but I just feel...strange. 

Currently, I am being a terrible girlfriend. I can't seem to act normally, regardless of the situation. I got used to maybe two phone calls a day from someone outside of my immediate vicinity, and after a week of that, I forgot how to balance work with my personal life. I'm trying really really hard, but I feel like I'm being distant. I'm not trying to be, I just don't feel like myself yet.

This sensation has left me to wonder: do all cooks/chefs feel like this? Is there a disconnect with the rest of the world for our entire career? I mean, having a completely opposite schedule from everyone is fun to brag about while we're young, but what about if we want to start a family? How do you tell your little one that you can take them to school, but you will never be around to pick them up or tuck them in at night? (Not that I am even remotely interested in having children right now, but what if I decide to later on?) Don't get me wrong, I love this lifestyle. It makes me feel strong, and included by a group of people who have worked very hard for very long. I love this crowd, I love these people, I love my work. I'm simply asking myself reasonable, adult questions that everyone should consider before they make important life decisions. 

I have to decide, fairly quickly, whether or not I am willing to deal with being comfortable while remaining slightly (if not more) uncomfortable for many years to come. 

And now here's a video of an adorable otter.

Craziest 9 Days of My Life

So, the Masters. For those of you who follow my Facebook, you will know that, last Sunday, I left Atlanta to come to Augusta, GA to work the Masters tournament. I am here to document this past week, just for your entertainment.

So apparently, before the staff left for Augusta, there was a meeting where we all found out about our individual duties, housemates, and random other facts and rules about the trip. I, for whatever reason, was not invited to attend this meeting. All I knew was what Woolery (we call him Woody) told me: that I was doing breakfast and lunch service, taking a break, and then coming back to plate desserts after dinner service had ended. That was all the information I had.

So Sunday morning comes around and Daniel leaves me at the restaurant to catch a ride with the rest of the staff. We left late, and arrived in Augusta in the late morning. We immediately headed down to the tent to start setting up our equipment. It was a long day. We are literally working in a circus tent that is air conditioned, and has two fans. We have three fridges, two freezers, three induction burners, a dishwashing station, two long prep stations, a dry storage area, shelves for glassware and plates, and a few tables for the front of house people to prep their stuff.

The rest of the week is a blur, and I will not bore you with all of the details about my daily struggles. However, my primary duties ended up including: arriving at the tent by 5:30 AM, plating all of the breakfast platters and helping my server counterpart set up the buffet, making ~60 sandwiches daily, wrapping them to Chef Hopkins' specifications, and then helping the same server set up the lunch buffet. While I'm attempting to prep and make sandwiches (this takes A LOT longer than you would expect, as I have to wrap them each in crazy butcher paper and sticker them...it's just silly), I have to constantly run back and forth to the clubhouse to refill platters for John (the server) because he is not allowed to leave the dining room. That part was my least favorite of my entire week. Being constantly interrupted whilst trying to prepare food is, like, the worst thing ever.

After my first shift of the day, I was understandably exhausted. Typically I would leave around 3 PM, head home, have a drink, and go to sleep for as long as possible. I usually ended up getting about 2-3 additional hours of sleep every day, which I needed. I would have died without those naps. Three out of the nine days, however, I had to come back and wash linens. For some reason, we did not receive any more deliveries for the entire week, so I played laundry maid. I was not a huge fan of this duty, but I was also the only person with any time off during the day (NOT true, there were plenty of other FOH people who could have done the laundry, but whatever), so I was more than willing to help.

So tomorrow is my last day of having to wake up before it's appropriate to plate pastries and muffins for the overly-wealthy; and instead of prepping sandwiches like I usually would, I will be spending my time packing up the kitchen until the rest of the guys get there to help me. I cannot wait to get home.

My body is not well. My feet throb, my knees creak, my elbows crack, my wrists are weak, my head constantly hurts from dehydration, I've lost at least five pounds, I haven't slept enough for 7 nights, but emotionally, I'm on a freaking cloud. This has been, by far, the hardest week of work I have ever experienced. I have been used, abused, battered, and bruised (Ferngully reference, anyone?), but I feel like I accomplished more than I ever have before (in a work environment). I have a newly-discovered confidence in myself and my capabilities in a kitchen that I don't think I could have achieved from just a week of restaurant work. Being put in the shit, literally, with a lack of necessary supplies, a hot (outdoor) kitchen, and an astronomical level of responsibility has proved me to be quite the extern. I believe in myself and my life decisions more than ever after this week. I can now say, with confidence, that I am good at what I do.

I didn't take many pictures this week because of how busy I was, but here are a few that I did take. Enjoy!

Our Smoker

Look at that beauty. 

Driving home, dead tired.

Idk, they were interviewing a famous golfer? 

Mmmmm more meat.

My coworker, Miles, double fisting Mountain Dew.

Ben and Miles cheersing with their Dews. 

Pulling pork for the Sunday BBQ

Being silly and delirious in the kitchen.

Basically, I'm going to miss working so closely with these guys. We've had a great time through our heat exhaustion, delirium, and long shifts. I didn't think it was possible to work this hard for this long and enjoy myself for every minute. I give these guys all the credit. They are truly awesome.