Day 5: Something I hope to do in my life.
This one's a no-brainer. There's a few answers to this.
I hope to see my children and their children graduate from college. Especially because I didn't go, and while I don't think I would have done things any differently if I went back in time, I want my boys to have a better life. No public assistance, higher earning potential right off the bat, etc.
And, I hope to be a sous chef in a high-end restaurant. Somewhere between Sage and Le Bernadin, quality-wise.
Why not an executive chef or chef de cuisine? Easy.
I don't mind having some responsibility on the job. I've trained several people over the course of my career thus far, and it's fun, provided they aren't giving me attitude for being a small, young-looking female, and provided they aren't being deliberately dense or slow in order to make me do all the work (you'd be surprised how many people pull that one). I can make a game plan, I'm great at delegating tasks, etc. But, I'm also being realistic. Most places of the caliber I want to work at will not have a boss chef without a culinary degree, and most of them prefer some sort of classic European training. I have neither. I have a steady hand, decent knife skills and speed, focus like a laser, loyalty to my kitchen, and a big heart which I can also harden when absolutely necessary. I can come up with ideas for specials and such, but a whole menu? Probably not. At least not at this point in the game, and to be honest, cooks start getting slow and physically burnt-out once they hit their 40's. The heart is there but the physical strain wears your body down. I'm close to 29. I've only been doing this since I was 18, 16 if you want to count the deli. So, not even fifteen years in. I have very little sensation in my fingertips (as discussed in a prior post). I have back issues at times - the muscles that run along the right side of my spine are more heavily developed than the ones on the left, which causes some back pain when I need to exert both of them. Also, my spine is curved a little more than natural toward my lower back, but not enough to be scoliosis. Throw in the severely flat feet and that's a recipe for a lower back ache. I have ruptured veins on the sides of my feet and the backs of my calves. I have enough burn and knife scars that I've had a few different doctors try to put me on antidepressants, thinking that I was self-mutilating. (Note: My current doctor worked back of the house restaurant jobs - meaning cooks, dishwashers, porters, etc - while he was in college, so when he saw my arms, in particular one scar running partially down my forearm from a hot saute pan, and my hands, he checked my file again and said, "Oh, a cook, huh?" and proceeded to tell me about the night he was allowed to fill in on grill. Great guy. Awesome doctor. I would have loved him for that alone, lol.)
With that in mind, the other reason I'd rather be a sous chef is to stay closer to the heart of what it is that drew me to this crazy business in the first place: the cooking. Saute or grill, pantry, apps, desserts, even expediting or garnishing. As long as I have something to do with those plates before they go out the door, I'll feel happy. Food is my art. I'm not much of a dancer, I can't draw or paint or sculpt, and you really don't want to hear me sing a capella (although if there's music to sing along with I'm all right), and I don't play any instruments anymore, but I can plate. I can draw your pretty, intricate designs with a toothpick, dabbing miniscule droplets of raspberry coulis onto a backdrop of creme anglaise, pulling the pick through to create hearts or Victorian-looking swirls and curlicues, even something resembling lace if I have the free time. That's my way of creating beauty, and it's a little more precious to me because I know it won't end up in a museum on display. I make it, I survey it with a critical eye, I place it on the pass gently - and then it's whisked onto a tray and carried out to you, the customer, where it will be devoured. And whether you realize that food presented in an aesthetically-pleasing manner actually tastes better (you eat with the eyes first), or whether you don't buy it, it's true.
At heart, I'm a cook. Give me a place on the line, my knives, and access to the coffee pot when I have time. That's all I want. That's all it takes to make me come home satisfied with my day's work.
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