I explained my kitchen cleaning theory to two of my classmates yesterday, right before the final. They just laughed at me and called me silly. When I finished my test, after they did, I walked back into the kitchen and got put to work pouring sauces out of large containers into smaller, more stackable ones. They were back at the sink as part of the pots and pans brigade. Who's the silly one? Actually, I was done with most of the test at the same time they were, except for the stupid math problem and its follow-on problems...you know, you need to get the answer to question 48 correct so you can get the correct answers for 50-53. I had dutifully studied the formulas that we had crammed into our heads, except for the one that we only went over once. That was the one that comprised question 48. And the mind? It went blank. Wiped clean. Couldn't have been cleaner than a plain of new fallen snow. So, I started plugging in numbers and functions into the calculator until I got one of the numbers in the multiple choice answer, and that's the one I went with. Scientific? IF you are me, it is. Luckily, one of my other classmates, the one who might actually understand and get the answer, told me she got the same answers, so I feel somewhat better.
On to the kitchen cleaning smackdown!
I mentioned a few weeks ago that we'd had a visiting chef from Italy who did a demo. That was tasty and good, but there was a minor annoyance that went on throughout the demo that had most everyone who attended either highly irritated or steaming mad. There was a woman, we'll call her Bambi for anonimity's sake, who is several quarters ahead of our class. She's around my age, or at least of an age where she's old enough to know better. Anyway, she positioned herself front and center of the demo table and proceeded to turn the Q&A session into a one-on-one conversation with the chef and handler, never letting anyone else get a word in edgewise. She simpered and flirted and oooh and ahhed until it was enough to make you want to turn the sink sprayer on her and yell "down girl!" The things that came out of her mouth..."And what kind of flour is that, Chef? All-purpose? Interesting. And, you knead that with your haaannnds?" Please. And, she was wearing makeup, which is a cardinal sin, or so we've been told. We've since heard through the rumor grapevine that she very actively flirts with the instructors, most of whom are male, and annoys most of the female members in her class and the program...we all know the type.
Anyway, I'm making big pots of sauce into little containers of sauce when she comes over the the area of the kitchen where I am. We were told that we could take off our white jackets and wear t-shirts, because we would be getting dirty. Our chef had specifically told us what we could not wear--no tank tops, A-shirts, etc. Just a regular t-shirt. No brainer.
Bambi comes wafting through, and it takes all my self control not to drop my jaw or suck all the air out of the room. She's got on a white t-shirt alright, but it's the thinnest, tightest t-shirt available, and the woman is NOT WEARING A BRA. If she were a man, we could make crass remarks about seeing her circumcision scar; as it were, you could see every freakin' detail of her areolae from across the room. The headlights were on and on high beam. And, she's wearing makeup again. What gives?
I must admit, part of my brain was going "damn, how in the hell is she so perky at her age?" in a very envious tone, and another part was thinking that she's had to have some work done, because we all know gravity is not your friend...ever. Granted, she's not a overly chesty woman, but she could have passed the pencil test easily.
After she leaves the area, there is a loudly whispered conversation between two other students who are cleaning some oven racks near me; one male, one female. The conversation goes something like this:
She: Can you believe that?!
He: What?
She: Bambi!
He: What about her?
She: Did you see her?!!
He: Yeah. What?
She: Omigod! You could see EVERYTHING!
He: What "everything"?
She: You know, her chest!! She wasn't wearing a bra! In that see-through shirt! You could see all of her!
He: Really? Wow. I hadn't really noticed.
She: What hadn't you noticed? That there was actually a t-shirt involved?
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is when another stereotype of the men vs. women debate gets hit right out of the ballpark. Ka-ching!
A little while later, I noticed that Bambi had on her white chef coat. Methinks that our chef came in saw her like that and made her put on her coat. The highbeam effect doesn't work on other women, you know.
And, the quarter is over. Finally. I can sleep a little later for the next week or so, and then we're actually getting into the kitchen for real. I bought my knife kit yesterday (taking a large bite out of the wallet!) and my first professional chef textbook--whoo hoo!!
Now, off to clean the house in preparation for company for St. Patrick's Day debauchery. Happy Ides of March to y'all!
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