It seemed that during the first week of classes the biggest challenge would be to not wake up late. Therefore, to mitigate the risk, I decided to go to bed at the same time my mother would have sent me to sleep while in Junior High. Okay, okay, I am exaggerating, however, it is true I am going to sleep at 10:30 p.m. at the latest. And to date, we have had no morning pandemonium. Let us just hope it continues this way.
Now, after orientation, hygiene, and all other subjects equally important as the practicals in the kitchen, I have to admit it was all peace and quiet, and I didn’t feel stressed or under pressure. I wanted to go through all the documents I was given the first day in a USB flash memory, and was even planning on reading the whole reference book I was handed out. I still hope this can be accomplished before having to study for the final exam, hahahaha!
Astonished by the biographies of the chefs who are to be responsible of doing all the teaching, I arrived to the first demo class. The professor was a not very tall man who seemed to be very easy-going, for he made a joke here and there, but whose professional experience at the Elysée Palace and having cooked for HRM The Queen of England sounded quite serious. He, patiently showed us each and every possible way of chopping, slicing, cutting, and even turning vegetables.
Truly and honestly, it seemed to me this was an easy task. He did it so seamlessly, almost with his eyes closed. All the contrary when it was up to me to hold the knife. I had to stand up straight, be well planted on the ground, fix the chopping board as it should, and on top of it all, I shouldn’t cut myself with outrageously sharp knives. It was the first time ever I felt scared about cutting myself a finger, because did you know, my dear reader, that it is generally impossible to re-attach a finger? My gosh! And yes, evidently, shoot! It was I the one who got cut. But, no panic. It was only a small cut. I think it hurt more my pride than my cut, for I was the first one in the class to have shedding blood, nothing more. To date, my “brunoises” are still too big, my “juliennes” are too thick, and one is still incapable of counting 7 sides to my turned potatoes. Nonetheless, I will keep on practicing through the weekend. Thankfully, it’s Friday, and tomorrow is the first Saturday I won’t be having classes.
Now, I run to the last class of the week, and cannot leave a photographic evidence of the task because I simply don’t have one.
Have a great weekend!
Spanish