Thinking Like a Chef
As you may know, my culinary training is pretty much limited to reading a lot of cookbooks and watching a lot of PBS cooking shows and practice practice practice. Oh, and there was that J-term Hare Krishna cooking class back in college. So, I really can't call myself a chef, per se. I feel like to be a chef you have to have some kind of credentials. However, I had an experience on Sunday morning that made me realize I am at the very least THINKING like a chef now.
I was in the kitchen early in the morning prepping for our Celebrating Citrus theme brunch. Jilly had come up with a delightful citrusy menu and I was executing my assigned items. It was all humming along nicely, and I was working at a comfortable pace. I had brewed a pot of coffee, and I think I had even pour myself a travel mug full, but I had yet to take a sip. I remember thinking it was remarkable that I had gotten so much done with no coffee and no music. The silence was sweet.
So there I am slicing red peppers ultra thin for citrus cole slaw, using the new "cartoon" knife when all of a sudden I slice across my right index finger nail. Now, if I was a REAL chef I would have been using proper technique with my finger curled under and there would have been no fingernail exposed to cut...and also, if I had actually drunk some coffee I might have been more alert and not so sloppy...and also....eh, I could continue to beat myself up about my knife injury forever. The point is, there I was at 8:20am, bleeding profusely from the right index finger.
And my first thought was not "I wonder if I need stitches?" or "I hope it doesn't get infected" or even "OW!". No, my first thought was "I do not have fucking TIME to bleed right now!" I went on to swear a blue streak for about 10 minutes as I ran it under cold water and went through a few paper towels trying to contain the bleeding enough so that I could GET BACK TO WORK.
It really didn't hurt, or at least I didn't notice it hurting. I was too ANNOYED.
And that, my friends, is the true mark of a chef.
It's looking much better now, but I think if I leave the bandaid off for any length of time I am going to lose half of the nail. I am not psyched about that (it would certainly slow me down in the kitchen!) so I am keeping it bandaged for most of the time, letting it out for peroxide soaks and air whenever I am home for a period of time. This poor finger is going to be so frankenstein-y between this new scar and the bump from when I cut the knuckle two years ago on Mother's Day. But from what I hear even the best chefs have mangled fingers. It's part of the job, and a badge of honor.
As you may know, my culinary training is pretty much limited to reading a lot of cookbooks and watching a lot of PBS cooking shows and practice practice practice. Oh, and there was that J-term Hare Krishna cooking class back in college. So, I really can't call myself a chef, per se. I feel like to be a chef you have to have some kind of credentials. However, I had an experience on Sunday morning that made me realize I am at the very least THINKING like a chef now.
I was in the kitchen early in the morning prepping for our Celebrating Citrus theme brunch. Jilly had come up with a delightful citrusy menu and I was executing my assigned items. It was all humming along nicely, and I was working at a comfortable pace. I had brewed a pot of coffee, and I think I had even pour myself a travel mug full, but I had yet to take a sip. I remember thinking it was remarkable that I had gotten so much done with no coffee and no music. The silence was sweet.
So there I am slicing red peppers ultra thin for citrus cole slaw, using the new "cartoon" knife when all of a sudden I slice across my right index finger nail. Now, if I was a REAL chef I would have been using proper technique with my finger curled under and there would have been no fingernail exposed to cut...and also, if I had actually drunk some coffee I might have been more alert and not so sloppy...and also....eh, I could continue to beat myself up about my knife injury forever. The point is, there I was at 8:20am, bleeding profusely from the right index finger.
And my first thought was not "I wonder if I need stitches?" or "I hope it doesn't get infected" or even "OW!". No, my first thought was "I do not have fucking TIME to bleed right now!" I went on to swear a blue streak for about 10 minutes as I ran it under cold water and went through a few paper towels trying to contain the bleeding enough so that I could GET BACK TO WORK.
It really didn't hurt, or at least I didn't notice it hurting. I was too ANNOYED.
And that, my friends, is the true mark of a chef.
It's looking much better now, but I think if I leave the bandaid off for any length of time I am going to lose half of the nail. I am not psyched about that (it would certainly slow me down in the kitchen!) so I am keeping it bandaged for most of the time, letting it out for peroxide soaks and air whenever I am home for a period of time. This poor finger is going to be so frankenstein-y between this new scar and the bump from when I cut the knuckle two years ago on Mother's Day. But from what I hear even the best chefs have mangled fingers. It's part of the job, and a badge of honor.
posted by sheryl at 8:30 AM
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