Oysters

This week has been interesting to say the least. Let's start with Monday evening. Chelsea wanted to work, so I gladly gave up my p.m. shift to her. It would have been my fourth double in a row. Yuck. Brian and I decided to have a cheap date night and headed to The Hard Shell (nice to work in a restaurant...cheap food and wine). All was going well. Brian enjoyed his crab legs. I did a tasting of some of our wines so that I could explain them to customers. And then came the plate from the kitchen.

A pristine white, square appetizer plate beautifully garnished with micro greens and a lemon wedge. And a raw Chesapeake oyster.

Brian looks at me in disgust. I look at the guys in the kitchen, who are smiling with anticipation at me. I think Brian says something like, "You aren't really going to eat that, are you?" Yes. Yes, I am.

All the guys in the kitchen know I'm in culinary school. We talk about it all the time. Sunday, I asked Andre to show me how to shuck an oyster. It's difficult, by the way. We got it open, and he asked me if I had ever eaten a raw oyster. I walked away. Monday morning, I told him that I really did want to try oysters. I'm going to be a chef. I need to stop being afraid of food. That's how the single oyster ended up in front of me.

I take it over to the kitchen so they can give me a pep talk. One. Two. Three. Slimy. Funky. Yuck. The guys are laughing. And then I told them that I wanted to try a Blue Point oyster. I mean, let's just get this oyster tasting business out of the way all at once. That was my theory. The guys couldn't believe I actually wanted to eat another one. I go into the kitchen and help Cory shuck it. I didn't put lemon on it, or cocktail sauce, or anything else.

One. Two. Three.

Delicious!

It tasted like sea water. Like summers in Ocean City. Like vacationing at Chincoteague. Like warm, lazy days. I'm hooked. And proud of myself for trying something so repulsive looking. The key is to not chew. Just drink it.

The sharper your knife, the less you cry

That's the name of the book I finished two minutes ago. It's by Kathleen Flinn, who got fired from her job at 36 and decided to go to Le Cordon Bleu. I cried. I can't remember the last book that reduced me to tears.

I've been reading it between work and studying for the past week. It has me dreaming of Paris, eating at little cafes, and shopping for baguettes every day. Sigh. Is that something I will ever get to do? I thought I'd gotten all my wanderlust out of the way. It appears I have not.

I loved the book for more than the Paris brain candy. She went through a (much tougher) version of what I'm doing. It's nice to know I'm not the only culinary student to get lost in knife cuts. I can do it all day. Peel, square, trim, slice, julienne, brunoise, repeat. Very cheap therapy. It's also nice to know that not everyone starts culinary school with a clear goal in mind.

Because honestly, I don't know what I want to do with all this learning. Ask the majority of my class what they want to do, and you will get one answer. "I want to own my own restaurant." I've managed one, and I've got to tell you...It's a TON of work. Kiss the family life good bye. Be prepared to work 60-80 hours a week. And by the way, it will take you at least six months to start making money. If you're any good.

I've become increasingly interested in the farm-to-table movement. I grew up blissfully unaware of fois gras and duck confit, and I really don't feel I've missed anything. Isn't the beauty of cooking making something fantastic out of something simple? And does fantastic have to be elaborate? Why not let the green beans speak for themselves? My husband requests my meat loaf more than anything else I make. I think I want to make the food that people really eat.

But, all that is two years down the road. I mentioned moving after graduation to Brian last night. He was tentative, but not opposed. He said he'll need to know where I want to go so he can find a job. He instantly said, "The valley!" No. I'm not taking my cooking skills to Harrisonburg to cook for students and townies who don't know sea salt from kosher. (That's awfully snarky of me. I apologize.)

Off to read about eggs for school.

Chiffonade, Brunoise, and Tourner this!

Life as a student is progressing nicely. I'm over the uniform. It doesn't feel so bad when I'm in class with 30 other people dressed like me, and it's pretty cool to have students from "smart people" majors ask me how cooking is going.

Yesterday was an interesting day. We've learned the basic knife cuts (julienne, brunoise, chiffonade, etc.). Time to learn to tourner. Why do I hate tourner? First and foremost, it's a veggie cut into the shape of a football. Please explain to me how football has taken over not only my husband, but also my schoolwork. The irony is too much to handle. Beyond that, it's a pain in the arse. Take a potato, give it seven even sides, and make it look like a football. It sucks. And I suck at it. Everyone sucks at it. I went to the grocery store this morning and bought 2 pounds of potatoes for practice, in addition to the Red Bliss potatoes I already had. The later I used for practice/dinner tonight. I did 13 of them. One was maybe close to being correct. I will get this right if it takes me 20 years.

We also made clarified butter. (Which I hate because I work in a seafood restaurant with an all-you-can-eat crab leg night.) I burnt mine. Yay me. It was quite disheartening to have Chef Maxwell take my pan off the burner and show other groups as "what not to do." Awesome. Give me some potatoes to tourner and butter to burn and I'm good to go!

And I still love it. I love that class gets me thinking about food in a completely different way. Instead of asking if something tastes good or bad, we speak in terms of spice, seasoning, specific flavors, texture. It's really, really cool. Chef has relaxed a little. He's still difficult, but in a good way. I can't believe I'm actually doing this. It feels......right.

Wine of the moment....Kluge Estates Cru. Unfortunately for most of you, this is a Virginia wine. It's a Chardonnay, fortified with VA brandy, and aged in Jack Daniels barrels. It's beyond sweet. It's fantastic. Who needs dessert when you can have wine? Very fruity, vanilla, almond, creme brule. My sister would love it. And so do I.