Newsflash: I fail at blogging.

I admit it, I am a procrastinator and I fail at blogging on a regular basis. I would like to begin this blog by blaming the snow. For those of you who were also born and raised in Vancouver, you know what I mean. I've been having a personal snow day since December 13th, the date of the first snowfall. Since then, I have pretty much stayed inside my house. Good sense has told me that if I venture outside, I may perish.  I have been outside since the rain has come back.

(special note: For all you transplanted Vancouverites. . .yes, YES, I know it's colder where you are from, but I don't care, I'm pretty sure our snow is grosser than yours. . . and I promise not to curse the rain for at least one month or at least until it has eaten the snow container around my car.)

Only two major school related events have happened since my last blog. I shall begin with the second event:

On December 17th, I managed to burn myself real good with a flaming hot sauterne. I was being a super smartypants and I put the frying pan on a cool baking sheet and started to carry it to the dishpit. Halfway there, I managed to forget about the effects of gravity on a non-level surface. I tilted the baking sheet to get around a classmate and the sauterne slid into the meaty part below my right thumb and gave me a pretty decent branding. I didn't get a blister, so I assumed it wasn't that bad; however, four days later, all the skin started to crack and peel off. It was pretty gross. Actually it's still pretty gross. 

Here are some pictures I took. The burn is way smaller than it was and I have a lot more new skin than I did.

I had to wear some really cool moist, burn bandages.  They felt great, but after a few days (you can wear them for up to five days), they got super gross and juicy underneath.  Plus, I was allergic to the adhesive and the latex in the dressing so I developed eczema all around the burn and some nights, I wanted to tear my whole hand off because it was soooo itchy.  On the upside, I got to wear these groovy gloves everytime I took a shower or cooked anything.

So now, let's move on to the second great event of December:

First a little description of my school program.  My year is separated into twelve four-week blocks.  Each block focuses on a different aspect of cooking or food production with the exception of Block 9.  Block 9 is "front of house" which is also known as plain old waiting on tables.  To accommodate this block, VCC has built a fine dining restaurant called JJ's on the second floor of the school, next to the cafeteria.  Now for those of you who have actually been waiters, you know that this is actually a tough job.  Everybody wants a good waiter and everybody has an idea about how they would like to be served.  So I think (actually I know) that for some of the students at VCC this is probably one of the most difficult blocks.  Now, let me tell you how I know this.

On December 15th, nine of us from the class decided to have a beautiful and relaxing lunch at JJ's fine dining.  Our waiter that afternoon was a young man named, Benz.  If you missed that,  I'll repeat:  His name is Benz . . . B-E-N-Z.  Now, on to the incident.  A couple of my classmates decided it would be great to have a glass of wine before we headed off to cook dinner in the cafeteria.  It was all very civilized.  We sat around the big table making idle chatter, waiting to put in our dinner order.  Just then, I noticed that a look of concern had cast a dark shadow on the faces of my friends sitting across from me.  Before I could consider all of the possible things that could disturb them, I felt a BONK on the head, heard the breaking of glass, and then felt the unmistakable, cool sensation of a drink being spilled down my back.  Then it really hit me, the rich spicy notes, the heady bouquet. . . ahhh yes, it was a glass of red wine.  And I might add that it was a very generous six ounce pour of house red that was soaking into my brand new cashmere blend sweater and inevitably heading south down the back of my trousers where it gently trickled into my knickers.

Now I bet you are wondering what I did?  Well first, I looked at my peers, whowere all looking at me also wondering what I would do.  My very helpful, no-nonsense classmate Vivian began to immediately sponge me off with a festive green napkin (yes a green napkin will release dye that will further backstain a spilled on garment).  The Maitre D' rushed over to our table with plenty of apologies while a number of things ran through my mind:

1.  I wished that my pals Ariel and Katherine were there, because after some initial sympathy, I think they would have thought it was really funny.  After the shock had worn off, they would have laughed and then ordered more wine and probably have harangued the waiter until he cried or wet himself.

                  

2.  Then I  thought "How ironic that the wine spilled on me, because I was told by my rheumatologist that I wasn't allowed to drink anymore."

   

3.  And then I thought "Oh well, it could be worse. . . it could be Darfur or Afghanistan."

                  

4.  Finally, I was sure glad I wore wool because you can just wring it out and it feels pretty dry.

I think I said the third thing out loud (I know it sounds trite, but it's true)  That's when I noticed that the table seemed to let out a collective sigh of relief.  I didn't make a fuss, because it really could have been worse.  I did go to the bathroom and take off my tank-top and wring out my sweater.  In the end I had to throw the tank top out and the sweater made my locker smell like booze for the rest of the day.  I was a bit surprised that I didn't get my meal comped, but what do you do?

As a postscript, that night, while we were working the dinner line, 12 lockers got broken into upstairs and students had their wallets, permanent resident cards, mobile phones, and passports stolen.  So by the end of the night, I was pretty glad that a red wine-baptism was the worst thing that happened to me that day.  

Oh, one more thing, my brother and his fiancee went for lunch on Friday of the same week.  Guess who their waiter was.  That's right. . . BENZ.  They said they were a little bit scared when they ordered wine.  I think they might have even ordered the white to play it safe.

Andrea! Look what you missed!

An Open Letter to my Classmate Andrea,

the Unrepentant Chocoholic

Well Helloooo Andrea,

Look what you missed.  During the Kosher dinner event we had to plate 400 chocolate desserts.  If you look at the beginning of this blog you will see a picture of one.  They were delicious.  I know this because at the end of the night there were hundreds of thousands of desserts left and the pastry chef said I could eat as many as I wanted . . . and I did.  

Brie, Kameron, and Me in the first stages of Chocolate Ecstasy

I thought of you as I gorged myself on each delightful chocolate bombe.  Please note that the picture above only shows a mere fraction of the desserts that were available for consumption.  You may also note that Brie has a bad case of red-eye in the photo.  That was caused by the dearth of chocolate goodness that was put before her.  I actually saw her eyes turn red.  She was like an insatiable chocolate vampire.  And Kam . . . Kam couldn't stop smiling.  He was like a baby with a bottle full of chocolate milk.  If you don't believe me, look at the picture again.  After we ate enough dessert to make ourselves sick for days, we wrestled in the remaining desserts to make sure that none were wasted.  The tuiles hurt a bit (tuiles hurt), but it was worth it.  We pretty much drowned in gluttony and we were paid to do it.

Sorry you missed out.  We thought of bringing you a dessert, but that was after the wrestling, and they were all smashed by the time we had the thought.

Maybe next time.

Wish you were there,

Sarah

Everything is Kosher

I just had my first Kosher serving experience!  It was great.  The kosher-ness was almost, mostly lost on me.  If there wasn't a Rabbi present, I might not have noticed.  We didn't serve any meat and dairy together and there was obviously no pork.  Also, none of us cooks were allowed to bring our own knives.  Everything at the gig was supplied by Nava catering which specializes in serving kosher food in a kosher manner.

The event was thrown by Hillel:  the largest Jewish campus organization in the world.  The dinner was a fundraiser for the campus.  I didn't get to see a lot of the event because I was with the service folks behind a big black curtain.  However, there was a giant screen in front of us, so I did get to see parts of the speeches and some of the powerpoint (backwards of course).

There were about 12 VCC students helping plate the appetizers, salad, main course, and dessert.  Kam, Diana, Brie, Zach, and I represented our block.  Even though the head chef, Harvey Salmon, was blustering and rushing, there were more than enough hands to get the job done.  At times, we were often left standing around trying to find something to do.  When it came time to plate dinner, everyone formed four assembly lines and then we proceeded to plate 400 plates and they all had to look exactly the same.  The dinner had seven components:  wild and brown rice pilaf, a green pea puree, gai choy, tiny baby carrots, sesame crusted sablefish, pea sprout garnish, and a lemony emulsion.  It sort of felt like I was working in an Eastern bloc communist catering outfit:  Harvey Salmon would come around and yell something, the Rabbi would occasionally peer over our shoulders, then Keiko-san (the sous chef) would holler at us to make the plates nicer, then there would be a stop in the line as the communication broke down between the food runner, the platers, and the servers.  Suddenly things would rev up again and it was go, go, go.  And then it was done and we were left standing around again.  And of course like in any good Communist system, we were being paid to loiter.  Then came dessert.  The final course was a chocolate bombe with an orange pistachio tuile, raspberry coulis, blueberries, and a gold-leafed gooseberry.  It looked beautiful and tasted sweet but delicious.  Right, I forgot to mention that when all the plating was done, and just before clean-up, all of us got to have a little taste of everything.  The dinner was okay, just like wedding food is okay, but the dessert was really yummy.  I think I ate my weight in tuiles, which is no easy feat considering they are paper thin and made mostly of egg-whites.

It's hard out there for a . . .

SEND HELP SOON!

Boy oh boy. I have to admit, I forgot what a social/emotional minefield school is. Tradeschool is so unlike university. I'm finding it to be more like an academic limbo: somewhere between highschool and college. The geography of the culinary trades class is far more diverse than anything I experienced at Capilano College, UBC, or SFU. Some of my peers are in the last throws of puberty and sitting on a precipice between teenage angst and adult responsibility. It feels as though others have always scorned academia and even though they are in a college, they seem to rage against the authority of the institution. And then there are the students who approach their learning with spirit of healthy competitiveness and camaraderie. Sometimes, I feel like I am in a liferaft with a few other sane people. And our chefs -- they're on the big ship (the one that can save us) BUT, because they only see us for one month before they pass us along, they aren't able to effectively evaluate and eliminate the classroom dysfunction. Soooo, no life-buoy for us.

This situation is exacerbated by the fact that the goals of each individual, are hardly homogeneous. Of the sixteen people in our class (we started with 20), I know that at least a third of us have no interest in ever working in a production kitchen. The other two thirds may be focused on the food industry as a goal, but whether they will actually make it to the top is doubtful. I think a lot of students have their eye set on that brass ring of one day becoming an executive chef, a restaurant owner, or even a celebrity TV chef. And, I think that a number of my classmates feel that this will somehow be handed to them without the necessary slogging through dishpits and sweating it out in a windowless kitchen while working the line for minimum wage.

So much of what I've seen in the kitchen classroom reminds me of what I used to see in the highschool classroom. There is petulance, bullying, violent behaviour, dishonesty and cattiness. All of this has led me to reflect on my own teaching practice. So often, I've sat around with my colleagues over pitchers of ale asking the same tired teacher question: "I'm putting good material out there. I'm giving them a show. It's like a circus. So, why does it feel like nobody is learning?" Well now I know why. It's hard to learn while the sharks are circling. It's hard to learn when people are stealing your equipment or putting all of their effort into looking busy instead of being busy. It's hard to learn when you look at your neighbour who is burning something for the tenth time and then you realize that by not burning something you're automatically doing better. I think I know why my students couldn't always learn. Sometimes I wasn't teaching effectively, but it wasn't always me. I think it's easy to blame the teacher but the social environment seems to have so much more influence. I am finding it increasingly difficult to hear my instructor through the fog of bad behaviour that is enveloping our block.

I know that I have to lift myself up. Other classmates are also bothered by the behaviour they've seen. A handful of us have discussed this over a pint (or two), but it has all left me wondering where the tipping point is. I guess it all comes back to an internal locus of control. Now that I realize I've let my sense of work ethic and commitment slip, it's up to me to push myself. I am my own competitor. Even though it is hard, I need to focus on being the best human I can be in that class. As a teacher, that's all I've ever asked of my students: that they be the best human they can be; that they not get caught up in the little things that don't matter; that they open their minds to the beauty and possibilities of academia. Even the very best student can be better. So now it is my turn to practice what I preach. It's hard. It makes me remember my teen years.

I loved highschool. I liked every part of it (even the bad stuff), but I don't want to do it again. I guess, what I'm saying is I know how to help myself, now I just have to do it.

The Line! The Line! The Line is on Fire . . .

" Zach, stop distracting me from my work!"

Block 5 has begun. . . and so have the goodtimes! In this block, the class is responsible for putting out the daily cafeteria line dinner. We have to produce four meat entrees, four fish entrees, five side dishes, a pasta and vegetarian entree, and three soups. There is no time for wandering around the class, gratuitous trips to the dishroom, or general mischievousness. All things considered, the first night went off without a hitch (translation: No juicy blog material was created; therefore, the blog title is more exciting than the blog itself). Our new Chef, Dave Ryan, has a manic energy that seems to keep the class under control. It feels like he is using his ADD as a weapon for good instead of evil. Also, we are being led by Instructional Assistant, Ysabel. She is a real tough cookie.

I was responsible for the roast on Monday night. There wasn't a lot to it, but somehow, I got myself in a state. Anyhoo, the yorkshire puddings were only slightly burnt and the boneless lamb legs were cooked perfectly medium. Thank goodness for thermometers. As the cooker of the roast, it was my responsibility to carve it on the line. The carving station is about three inches higher than the counter and the roast on top of that adds about another five inches of height. So for those who didn't already know that I am only five feet tall, I was faced with a bit of an accessibility challenge. I was able to carve the roast, but the tendinitis in my left shoulder flared up something fierce. Thank-goodness I was distracted by the crazy people on the customers' side getting into a crazy fight. I'm not completely sure what the altercation was over, but it was definitely something small like person A touched person B's tray. Anyway there were no fisticuffs but words were exchanged. The best line I heard clearly was "Leave me alone you crazy old bag!" This was followed by a lot of intensely crazy, hateful stares. The best part was that the "crazy old bag" sort of had a beehive hairdo. If not for the hair, no one would have been the wiser to her altered state of craziness.

"Does this hairdo make me look crazeeee?"

Meanwhile back in the Kitchen . . .

Since I haven't blogged consistently for the last 20 odd days. I am going to give you a speed update of the top twenty things that have happened in the class. First we must travel back in time to Block 3 (you may remember this as my Month of Bacon)

20. We made beautiful desserts. Brie covertly took these photos on her phone.19. Chef Ritchie announced that our class, collectively, had the worst attendance he had ever seen in 10 years at VCC. Those of us who were present, and on time, looked at each other, shrugged, and said "Yes Chef!" in a somewhat feeble manner. The students who were absent, took no notice and carried on with their abysmal attendance.

18. Our block switched from drinking at the dirty Cambie Pub to drinking at the far more charming and comfortable Railway Club. The Railway has Guinness. Hooray for Guinness. We only ever have "just one" each.

17. Zach has still failed to learn how to tie his chef's tie and Diana has been tying it for him on a daily basis for four months now. He feels no shame over this. However, I believe Diana is starting to feel some shame. At least a little bit. If Diana decides not to show up for school, Zach may have to stay home too, due to the tie issue. Thereby aggravating the attendance issue.


(Note how happy Zach looks in this photo and how proud Diana is of her handiwork.)


16. The breakfast kitchen nearly exploded when Chef Ritchie tried to deep fry mashed potato cakes in our fryer that had sat dormant for nearly three weeks. Somehow some water must have been spilled in the fryer. So when it was finally turned on, it made a terrific noise, and began to shake as though it was a mighty greasy beast awakening from the depths of some kitchen hell, waiting to explode and coat the whole class in a layer of hot, filthy, unsaturated fat. Chef Ritchie said he even scared himself. And he is a mighty Scotsman, who does not scare easily. So, you can imagine the terror the rest of us felt.

15. Tyson poured another classmate's bavarian cream down the sink due to the fact that it resembled dishwater and it was being "chilled" in a "bain marie" of dishwater and dirty dishes. Said classmate wept. Tyson felt little to no remorse.

14. I learned that bad gelatin can smell and taste very piggy. . . but not in a good bacon-y way.

13. Finally we moved on to Block 4: Stocks, Soups, Sauces, and Cold Kitchen 2 taught by the lovely and fast-talking Chef Irwin. It sounds great, but this is when the real madness began.

12. I was put in a new, almost super-fantastic group with Shameless Seamus, James, Baby Kam, and another classmate who I will simply refer to as Anger Soup. (When I googled "anger soup" this picture came up.)

11. Our group started in the soup rotation of the class. I got to make a number of delicious concoctions: Coney Island Clam Chowder, Herbed Tomato Rice Soup, Chicken Vegetable, Mulligatawny, and Hungarian Goulash. My favourite, by far was the goulash soup and the seafood chowder that Seamus made.

10. James won an entrance scholarship. Most of us were really proud of him. One or two classmates were filled with jealous, impotent rage that was violently taken out on the upstairs boys' bathroom at VCC. (If you've seen Punch Drunk Love, it was the same as the scene where Adam Sandler goes postal on the bathroom)

9. David had his pants stolen again. How David?!!! HOW?!

8. Seamus and Tyson got to volunteer at the Gold Plates Competition. This was a competition between a number of the haute, local restaurants to create uber fabulous and confoundingly delicious food that also looked beautiful. Ty and Shame-O got to work with Tojo who placed second overall. This event helped revive Tyson's belief/love in/for the wonder of food. And I think it probably made both of them better cooks. (For more about Golden Plates, click here)

7. Absenteeism increased, especially on Fridays. There must be something about Friday because one very young, female classmate seems to always fall ill between 9:30 and 10 am. Usually this illness comes on very quickly after she receives a text message in class. I think it might be her phone making her sick. I heard cellular phones can do that.

6. As part of our Block 4 curriculum, we were given a take home assignment on food costing. The questions were crazy and went something like this.

If you are working at 35% food cost, how much does 100 litres of bernaise cost. Consider that the parsley has travelled from New Zealand on the Concord for $5 per mile. The egg yolks were from hand fed bantam hens and the person making the sauce is angry and working very slowly for 25 union dollars an hour. Given this information, what is the menu price for 100 grams of said sauce. Please work to no more than 10 decimal points. You will be given a 1/10000 of a cent margin of error . . . good luck.

I managed to get 100% on the assignment, but about six of us had to work as a collective to make sure we understood the questions.

5. Anger Soup missed a whole week of school thus leaving the rest of us in the lurch when we hit salads.

4. Zach slipped on Tyson's spaghetti noodles and hurt his back. Now he has an excuse for not being able to tie his tie. He is in poor health and suffering from a back ow-ee.

3. I scored my first 100% on the Soup and Stocks Test. Yay me!

2. I started to get tendinitis in both of my shoulders. I feel like a baby tyrannosaurus rex.

1. On November 24th, we move to Block 5: Nighttime Cafeteria Service. This should be a very exciting month. We will also be entering term 2 of our year. Kris and Chris have both decided to leave the program for very valid personal reasons. This will create a big shift in our group as they are two of the older members of the class. Some classmates may not be invited to continue on due to poor marks and attendance. Big changes are in the air. We will be put in new groups and the expectation for our speed and quality of work is about to increase dramatically.

And that is a fairly complete, somewhat biased update of my last month in the kitchen!

In My Secret Life

Such a long time . . . so little blogging. I know I've been away, but with good reason. Since mid-September, I've been hanging around my old stomping grounds at Britannia. Two to three times a week, I've been meeting with my old students to put together the School Remembrance Day Service. On November 10th, the services were done and now, I am free to blog again.

So here is a little bit about what my secret teacher life is like. Every Tuesday and Thursday, I would meet with between 5 and 25 students to practice songs and run through scripts. Altogether, 50 students made the service happen. Had I been teaching, like in the past, I don't know If I could have done the service this year. My year off was a bit of a godsend. Normally, I would have taught my classes all day, spent most of my lunch and recess in meetings, had a short 15 minute break and then started running the rehearsals. Often there would be a lot of frustration on my part due to mental exhaustion. This year however, things were different. After school, I usually went home for a little nap, stopped by my local coffee shop, and then ran a fairly pain free one hour rehearsal. I think that not being in the teaching classroom made me a lot more patient. By the time I started practices, I still felt like I had some energy to give my students. And I have to admit the kids were generous with me. Either I was looking at the situation through new eyes, or they were saving their teenage angst for other teachers.

This year's service was extra special due to the presence of Captain Trevor Greene. In March 2006, Captain Greene was attacked by a man wielding an axe while he was in a shura (meeting) in Afghanistan. The attack left him in a coma for a year and he is now confined to a wheelchair. Captain Greene is a good friend of longtime, Britannia phys. ed. teacher, Jamie Overgaard. But his connection to our school and neighbourhood go deeper, in that he wrote one of the earliest books about the missing women of the D.T.E.S. For the past two and a half years, we have been hoping for his recovery. This year Trevor was well enough to travel from his home in Nanaimo, with his wife and daughter, to come speak at our assembly.

So here is how we run our service at Britannia. At our school we are very clear that November 11th is about Veterans. The day is never run as a theatrical event nor do we use it as a forum to focus solely on other global issues. We break the service into three parts. At the beginning we run the photos of every Canadian Soldier who has perished in Afghanistan (97 to date). In the middle part, we pay tribute to the relatives of our staff and students who served in WWI, WWII, and the Korean Conflict. Then, our Veteran guest (this year Captain Greene) speaks and invites the student body to join in the two minutes of silence. Finally, for the last segment we honour the 18 Britannia students who died in WWI and WWII. We use music, key visuals and spoken word to bring the whole service together and then we run the service three times because we cannot fit the whole school in our auditorium. It is a long but very moving day.

This year we were featured on the CBC's Early Edition.

Click here to hear the audiofile.

Here are some images from the day and an excerpt from the closing of the service.

Eli, Stef, and Carey
(Carey and Eli have been making music for our shows and services since they were in Grade 10)

Captain Trevor Greene

Captain Greene's Mom, Dad, and Daughter

Edward Hulme: The father of my teaching colleague Grant Hulme. He is 90 years old and a survivor of the Battle at Ortona.

Seaforth Cadet Jasper

Singing A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall

The Band: back - Mr. McKechnie (band teacher) and Carey
front - Trevor, Jacob, Stef, and Eli

Celina talks about every child's right to an education.

Alison and Miranda speak about the dangers facing women in war-torn countries

Jamie Overgaard, Coporal Joe Allinas, Trevor Greene, and Master Corporal Patrick Farrell

Trevor W. playing the Last Post and Rouse
(He is only 12 years old!)

Our closing message as delivered by Grade 12 student Hannah:

We want to give you one last reason to wear the poppy. Right now, there are 30 wars being fought throughout the globe. Over 300,000 children have been forced into conflict as child soldiers. More than twenty million people have lost their homes because of wars and natural disasters. But here, at home, we have the security and safety that is only a dream for other young people.
In this final presentation, you will see a series of names being held up. These are the names of young soldiers from our school. These are the names of Britannia Students who died overseas and never came back to Canada. You will also be seeing images from around the world. Take this time to remember that we must not take our advantages for granted. Our access to medical care, education; our right to vote; our freedom of speech. These human rights were hard one and they are rights that everyone deserves.
Until this truth becomes a reality you wear your poppy not only as a symbol of remembrance, but also let your poppy be a symbol of protest against the gross inequality and tyranny that breeds war. Remember that until all of our brothers and sisters around the world are freed from the chains of ignorance, poverty, and hatred that cause strife and inequality. . . until that beautiful day is realized, not one of us can truly be free.

And here is a video of our closing number. Yvette, the soloist, is only 14 years old.

The Return of David.

A little update. My poor classmate, David, after being definitively removed from the program, has returned. His parent's came into the school and insisted that he be allowed to continue. He is one unhappy camper. Other than that, he is a pretty all round good guy. I hope he gets to do something productive that he enjoys very soon. Meanwhile, he looks like he is actually in Hell's Kitchen.

Is it wrong to love bacon this much???

I know I haven't blogged in a long time, but there is a good reason. Over the past four weeks I have become seriously addicted to bacon. You may be wondering how bad can it be. . . is she hyperbolizing? Well the answer is no, I am not. As part of our Block 3 duties, the class is responsible for cooking breakfast for the cafeteria. This involves baking off three very large trays of bacon in the oven every morning. By the time breakfast has been served there is often half a hotel pan of bacon leftover. Why we don't cook less bacon, I do not know. This daily ritual has had the unfortunate side effect of making bacon part of my daily routine. I have tried to forgo the luscious pork product, but if this block has taught me anything it is that I have absolutely no willpower. I have eaten so much bacon over the last twenty days that I feel I am in a constant state of dehydration and I may have given myself gout. I only pray that when I get to the stock, soups, sauces, and salads kitchen in Block 4, I don't find out I have a veloute addiction as well.

Anyway, I gave up fighting the urge to eat the beautiful crispy, fatty, wonderful bacon. Now I simply bow to the urge. I only have one day left and then it's cold turkey (or bacon) for me.

For your viewing pleasure here are a few fabulous bacon products.

Bacon straight up . . . No apologies.



Bacon Bandages: Makes ow-ees okay.



Forget Footloose, put your hand up if you've seen Tremors more than twice.


Someone is a marketing genius.


Oooh yeah!

Farewell dear David. . . alas, we never knew you.

Well, it is official, one person has been dropped from the program because of shoddy attendance. Usually at the end of Block 4 (Term 1) , some students are invited to leave due poor attitude or shoddy attendance. So, one must be working extraordinarily hard to be given the boot early.

Here are my thoughts on David's departure. David was a nice enough classmate. He never caused a ruckus or was unkind, but you could tell he did not want to be in the kitchen. There was no fire in his belly and he seemed pretty lost. David is only 18 and I imagine that there was some sort of insistence that he attend a post secondary establishment. I suppose cook was a real come down for his parents as it did not fall into the three generally, approved professions for good Asian children: doctor, pharmacist, and accountant.

I feel sad for David. He clearly was not doing what he loves. I don't think he knows what he loves yet. This is a situation I have seen many of my highschool students in. Over my eight years at Britannia, I would have conversations with young men and women (who were almost always Chinese) who wanted that one year off because they didn't know what they wanted. Or, they wanted to go into Fine Arts or Humanities and they were in despair because their parents felt that only in Science or Business would they find a job that would make them a lot of money. Inevitably, they would follow a path that was not their own and fail miserably. And then they would follow the same path again or drop out completely.

It is a sad state of affairs. There are so many young boys and girls who I've seen grow up and stop singing, painting, acting, and laughing because they need to find the perfect job and make enough money to make their families proud. Or on the converse side, they pursue no education, training, or self improvement because they feel they are destined to be famous. In the end, such young people end up squandering their lives working in menial jobs and focusing on vacuous pursuits such as beauty and being fashionable. I am not advocating the reckless abandonment of one's responsibility to be a contributing member of society, but I feel that many people discard their creative potential in favour of becoming cookie cutter consumers. And this is done with no consciousness.

In the end, I hope David finds something he really loves. I hope it isn't fast cars, Ed Hardy T's, and clubbing. I hope he ends up being something great.

Block 3 . . . Here I Come!

Cold Kitchen is done and I am on to Block 3: Baking & Desserts 1 and Breakfast Services. During this month, the class will be baking a variety of meat pies, muffins, and desserts and running the school's hot breakfast service. My group is starting with meat pies. I can't wait to start measuring and weighing. My group is pretty great too. It consists of our sous chef, Andrea (the next oldest lady in class), Brie and Ashley (the friends from Surrey), young David (from East Van), and Me! I think we are going to have an absolute blast this term.

I'll keep you posted.

There is a thief at VCC. Hold onto your Pants.

(Note: Some names have been omitted to protect the innocent and facts have been embellished for general entertainment value.)

Last week, there was a fourth floor locker-break-in-crime spree. On Wednesday at noon, I arrived at my locker to find the lock missing. Fortunately, nothing had been stolen. I suppose the thief was interrupted. Two other lockers were broken into and the next day, there were three more. I consider this one of the luckiest weeks I've had, because my wallet was sitting in plain sight, just waiting to be snatched.

Unfortunately, one of my classmates (who has asked to remain anonymous) was not so blessed. On Monday, he did not have his locker broken into. Rather, he had his pants stolen!
Here is how the event unfolded:

It was a normal day in the Garde Manger kitchen: Sophiey was whistling, Zach was singing, and Seamus was considering the enormity of the universe. At around 10 a.m., our innocent peer noticed that there was a difference in classroom temperature. Had the extractor fans been turned on? Had someone finally managed to open a window to our hermetically sealed classroom. Whatever it was, he did not let it deter him from his task of creating six beautifully garnished, meat salads. However, when our hapless victim entered the walk-in fridge for some frisee, he couldn't help but notice that his nether regions felt like they were freezing. He shivered for a moment in thoughtful contemplation and it was then that he noticed, he had NO PANTS! In only a hat, chef's jacket, necktie, apron, and tighty-whities our classmate whisked up to the fourth floor and found a pair of black sport pants to wear. As harrowing as the experience was he did manage to complete his daily task and the students of VCC did have their meat salad. On Friday, he had to purchase a new pair of Chef's pants for $30.

So this is a warning to all the VCC students: Beware, there is a thief in a midst. So, watch your locker and definitely hold on to your pants.

Who likes Cake?

My dear teacher, Elizabeth Carefoot, celebrated her 50th wedding anniversary this weekend with her husband Thomas Carefoot. Elizabeth is one of the founding members of the Middle Eastern Dance Association in British Columbia. She is also an extraordinary artist and an all round fascinating woman. Her husband Thomas is a well respected and widely published marine biologist. Google him if you want to know more about nudibranchs.

This Sunday, I was privileged to attend their anniversary party. It was an honour to make the cake for the event. I made an old-fashioned chocolate cake with orange ganache frosting. All of the gumpaste decorations were inspired by Elizabeth's art and Thomas' work in marine biology. Everything on the cake is edible.

Newsflash!!!

This just in . . . on Thursday in the early afternoon, our fearless, yet somewhat clumsy, classmate Andrea Cunningham managed to cut off the very tip of her middle finger. Although the pain was severe, Andrea made nary a sound as she applied pressure to her finger and made a beeline for the first aid office on the main floor. Upon returning to class, brave Ms. Cunningham donned a fashionable, blue latex glove and valiantly (and sanitarily) continued in her sandwich making duties. By 12:30 the throbbing wound had bled through its gauze dressing, thus forcing Ms. Cunningham back to the first aid lounge for further attention. Upon arrival, she was told to go immediately to the hospital for proper medical attention. Ever defiant, Andrea refused and insisted that she would head straight home to North Van for bed rest and Tylenol, after a short, shopping foray at Holt Renfrew.

Ms. Cunningham has stated on facebook that she "is saddened by the loss of her fingertip." We all wish her a speedy recovery.

(Note: the hand in the photo is not Ms. Cunningham's. It is a man's hand I found on google images. The bandaging, however, is very similar to the fine bandaging she received while in the care of VCC first aid.)

A Great Day

Today was a great day at school. Chef Bingley had us make special platters for the Friday buffet at JJ's. Tyson and I were assigned to the cheese platter. However, our first duty when we got in the class was to make our daily entree salads. I was on the seafood pasta salad today and Tyson made the greek. We both had our salads done by 8:30 and then it was upstairs for our cold sauces and salad dressings test.

After break, it was on to our cheese platter. How I wish we had taken pictures because it was ever so beautiful. All I can do now is describe it. The platter itself was a large round mirror. At the back of the platter we built up a pile of cascading grapes, plums, nectarines, and gooseberries. In front of that, at the centre back, there was a small bowl of garnet coloured cranberry orange relish to pair with the cheese. Along the left side of the of the platter were curved rows of gruyere, marbled cheddar, and provolone. At the right back side there was a pyramid of blue cheese, cranberry balls that had been rolled in toasted walnuts. In the centre was some beautiful panko-crusted fried brie. Along the front we had two rows of alternating sesame crusted and poppy seed crusted cheese coins. And in the very front we made some lovely canapes with red pepper studded chevre on toasted lavash with little tomato triangles on top.

It looked very decadent and quite fantastic. When Chef Bingley saw our work he was well chuffed and he said we had done a "top job".

After class, Kris, Andrea, Tyson, and I went to Nuba for some very tasty Middle Eastern Food. We also picked up some off sales from the 340 bar. We took it all to Victory Park and had a relaxing after class celebration.

All in all . . . it was a GREAT day.

I've been away making salad . . .MEAT salad!

I have to admit, I have not been diligent about blogging these last 11 days. After working the short order for a week, my group moved to compound salads and dressings. During that week, I made a lifetime's worth of mayonnaise. It was gross and awesome all at once. As part of our duty, we made six dressings (raspberry vinaigrette, balsamic, blue cheese, green goddess, french, and 1000 islands) for the salad bar and a number of compound salads for the bakery sales. But the best part was truly the gallons of mayonnaise we made on a daily basis.

This week, I'm working on appetizer salads. These are pre-packaged and everyday we make six different salads: tossed green salad, waldorf salad, julienne of vegetables, seafood pasta salad, greek, and MEAT SALAD.

You may be wondering what meat salad is. Is it a joke? An oxymoron? No, it is very serious and it sells out every day. Meat salad is a julienne of deli meats (roast beef, salami, summer sausage, and ham) mixed with julienned cheese, peppers, and onions. All of this is dressed with a vinaigrette and tossed with capers and then served up in 200 gram portions. It is a cafeteria hit. I really do not understand this salad.

I didn't know I could sweat so much.

Yesterday, I worked the grill and the flattop. It was hot. By the time we were done, we had put out 65 orders, and I had sweat clean through my undershirt (Why was I wearing an undershirt?. . . I don't know!!!). Apparently, I looked really rosy. Today, I'm taking orders. That should be a little less sweaty. I took another 2 hour nap when I got home. It would have been longer if I hadn't forced myself up. If I have to nap after today's job, then my wimpiness is fully confirmed.

Once again, our team worked well together. With 65 orders, we were serving a customer every minute and nine seconds. Our special was a grilled pepper and chicken quesadilla with corn and black bean salsa and a side of fries. It didn't sell as well as I thought it would. Initially that surprised me, but then I thought about it. We serve a lot of 18 and 19 year olds. I remember how at that age all I wanted to eat was a burger with fries. And, if I could get it with bacon, mushrooms, or cheese. . .even better. Heck, I don't think I even knew what a quesadilla was when I was 18.

The girl in the picture is not as tough as she looks.

Today was my first day on the hot sandwich line. As part of our Block 2 rotation, our class is in charge of making the salad bar, all of the dressings and mayo, special pre-packaged fancy salads, cold specialty sandwiches, and we run the short order grill. Our class has been separated into four teams of 4 or 5 and my team is working the line.

Within the team we each have an assigned job: taking orders, prepping bread, grilling meat, deep frying onion rings and french fries, and adding the garnish to each plate. I was on garnish today and boy did I learn a lot about me. I definitely need to work on my ability to listen and work. I focussed solely on the people in front of me. It was hard to listen to the orders being called and then understand what they had to do with my station at the end of the service line. As a team, we served 53 customers between 11:30 and 12:45. That's an average of 1 customer every minute and twenty-six seconds. Every plate got a small salad (coleslaw or ambrosia), a pickle, and whatever condiments the customer wanted (lettuce, tomato, onion, mustard, mayo, relish, fruit salsa).

All of the customers were very friendly and patient. One of them was even a former student. As I was serving a customer, I could hear a voice from the back of the line calling "Ng! Ng!" It was a pretty discrepant moment for me and I stopped what I was doing to ask, "Is someone calling my name?" My team didn't know what I was talking about since they all know me as Sarah. Finally I saw that it was Edward, a student from about 6 years ago. It was really nice to see a familiar face on the line. And I think that Eddy thought it was pretty funny that his grade 8 teacher was dressing his hamburger for him.

By the time we were finished and cleaned up, I felt pretty good about the job we had done. Tons of credit for the smooth service goes to Tyson and Matt who were stuck in front of the grill, flat top, and salamander. It was stinking hot where they were, but they just kept everything coming out in a timely fashion. And both of them, but especially Tyson, are extremely calm and rock solid under pressure. Like I said, when it was all done I felt pretty good. After school, I picked up some treats from the bakery and I headed to the bus stop with my pal and team mate, Marianne. Once home, that's when I found out what a wuss I was. Almost immediately, I had to climb into bed for a 2 hour nap. I think it's because I'm the oldest . . . and a big sissy.

Missing the Kids and the Colleagues.

Today is the big day. First day of school. Normally, I would be waking up all night and checking to see if my alarm clock was actually set. Well last night, I had a great sleep. So now I am waiting for the "missing the first day of school" ache to set in.

My parents, both of whom are elementary school teachers, were full of energy last night. They kept talking about going to bed early, seeing their school friends, and seeing the kids. I admit, I feel a bit of a pang. School opening is an exciting day for any teacher. A strange mixture of dread, mixed with freshmen euphoria, builds until that first homeroom. On the first day of school 99% of the kids and staff are excited to be in the building. And there are so many changes. The kids are all taller. The new grade 8's are full of wonder. Colleagues show up with great stories. Some spent the Summer travelling the globe, some come back married or pregnant, and others come back single and living in the city. There is always a ton of news and energy. And the office . . . the office is always a madhouse full of new registrants and kids complaining about schedules. It is all very FUN.

So I think I am going to miss it. While I'm making sandwiches on the line today, I'll be thinking about the new grade 8's I won't be meeting. I'll be thinking about all my workmates and friends.



I hope the day goes off as smoothly as possible.

Physical Exhaustion vs. Mental Exhaustion

For the last five years, my job as a highschool teacher has left me mentally exhausted. At the end of a school day, which could be anywhere from 7 to 14 hours long, I found all my energy was used up. Once home, I was often unable to do anything beyond turning on the television, grabbing a small snack from the fridge, and falling asleep on the couch. It was highschool. Even on a good day it felt like at least a quarter of the resident teenagers were having a bad day. Like I said, it was draining.

Now, all of sudden, I feel a complete turn around. While going to school is academic, the focus at VCC is largely hands on. At the end of my day, I've hauled pots, done a whole bunch of cutting and prep, spent time leaning over a hot stove, been up to my armpits in the dishpit, and taken about five pages of notes. It is completely exhilarating. Unlike in the highschool, I find myself completely unaffected by the moods and the misdemeanors of my peers. While we are a team, I am required to focus on the instruction of the Chef. I'm sure if he has a bad day, it will affect the class. But so far there have been no fireworks. At the end of the day, my body feels beat up, but my brain feels great.

Suddenly I feel room in my head for the things I've been longing to indulge in for so long: novels, science, art, fact memorization, grand schemes, reading the classics, the newspaper front to back, and food. Lots and lots of food.

More Butter Please

Holy smokes! French food has a lot of butter in it. I knew this in theory, but right now I am learning it in principle. Everything we make in class is loaded with one of two magic ingredients: BUTTER and CREAM. I'm starting to feel like I'm made of lard and we don't even eat the food we make. Well. . . we do take little samples. Sometimes more than one. Yesterday we made duxelles: sauteed mushrooms in a white wine reduction, finished with cream. It tasted awesome. We're going to use it to stuff chicken breasts later in the week.

Today we're trussing chickens and then taking them apart. I think there may be some more war wounds in class. Not me . . . touch wood.

I think I might become a weekend vegan to counter all of the in-class cooking excess. . . hmmm.

Discipline and Class Statistics

I survived week number one and am midway through week two. Our instructor Chef Krentz is very straightforward. Even though he seems strict, I think that by chef standards, he is quite easygoing. Today he talked to the class about being too chatty. When we are working, there should be very little, to no, peripheral conversation. A few people in the class are learning to grasp the concept of discipline the hard way. What, may you ask, is the hard way? Well it happens to be burning your roux, adding ingredients in the wrong order, asking questions that have already been answered, forgetting to bring paper and pencil, or failing to wear your hat and then having the chef very publicly point out your error. You don't want to be the teachable moment for the whole class.

About the class. Here is the class make up. There are 8 girls and 11 boys. I think 7 people are between 17 and 19 years old. There are 4 students in their early twenties. At least three students are in their late twenties. There are two Chris's in the class. Chris is 30 and Kris with a K is 33. And that officially makes me the class senior citizen. Also, four of us are from the East Side, one person is from Saskatoon, two students are international (Panama and Korea), one girl is from Vancouver Island, one young man is from North Van, the other old guy is from Vancouver, and the rest of the class is from the burbs (PoCo, Richmond, Tsawassen and Surrey). It's a good mix.

So far we have cooked fish stock, vegetable stock, and brown stock. We have also made vegetable paysanne (a soup), cream of mushroom soup, chicken veloute, fish veloute, and bechamel sauce. Everyday we practice our knife skills. So far I have not cut myself. However, 5 of my classmates have been nicked or sliced by the business end of their chef knives.

I'm still having fun. I hope I don't get cut. I hope I stay off of Chef Krentz's radar.

It's Like Wearing a Costume . . . EVERYDAY.

I love my cook's uniform. The uniform is based on illustrations by Marie Antoine (Antonin) Careme, the first great codifier of French cooking. It consists of a necktie, a double breasted chef's jacket, black and white houndstooth pants, an apron, and a toque. We each have two towels, which are exchanged everyday at 12:30. As well there is a half uniform exchange on Wednesday and a full exchange on Friday.

We must always wear our uniform when we are in class and our uniform must look crisp and well put together. If anyone in the class looks sloppy, the Chef has no problem pointing it out very publicly. I hope I never make it on his radar.

This is the same uniform cooks have been wearing for about 200 years. I love it.

Don't Try to Catch a Falling Knife

Well, my first two days have gone off without a hitch. The class is made up of 19 students. I think I may be the old lady of the group. There may be one other contender for "mature" student status. About half of the class seems to have just graduated from highschool. I feel a bit like a spy sitting amongst them. I'm trying to keep my age and my former life as secret as possible. But, anyone who knows me knows that secrets are not my forte.

So far, we have learned about the fathers of French Cooking, Careme and Escoffier, we went over the brigade system and we have talked extensively about knife safety. There were two excellent, circa 1970, videos on knife care and usage. Keep your hands away from the sharp side and DON'T try to catch a falling knife!

Tomorrow we will wear our school uniforms and we will start cooking. Apparently rice pilaf is on the menu.