I'm sitting here in my living room in my usual spot on the green
leather chair, Holly the cat on the right arm looking at me while I sweat
profusely and struggle to breathe. I'm shaking, my heart is racing, and
I'm starting to see spots. I am in full-blown panic mode. I have
made phone calls to my chef not-exactly-boyfriend, my mom and my best friend,
and I've text my ex-chef and current chef. I've taken a Xanax. I've
drunk some water. I'm still panicking. I keep eyeing the bottle of
wine adjacent me, but it's only four o'clock and I have a pool match to get
through later. Starting this early would require a substance of a different
nature, and I have to be in prime shape tomorrow; I have to get prepared for
the source of my anxiety: a kitchen trail. This is not just any
kitchen trail. This is a trail at a newly-opened, New York Times
reviewed, elegant fine-dining restaurant in the Time Warner Center. It's
bigger and more sophisticated than any kitchen in which I've ever worked. The food is decadent, the decor exquisite.
I should have been thrilled to be called
by the executive chef herself and offered a chance, not only to trail, but
to be asked what is my favorite station, to describe where my strengths lie,
and to offer insight on where I feel I can best be utilized in the
kitchen. One would think I'd feel validated in my skills and excited to
prove myself. I am, of course, terrified.
Don't get me wrong; I am good at what I
do. The factor that always goes through my head whenever faced with a
trail: I did not go to school for this. There are gaps in what I
know. There is terminology I have never heard of. There are food
items I have never eaten.
Back up.
Any chef will tell you that (or, at least
think it). There is always going to be something to learn. Ask
appropriate questions and try not to burn anything.
The pill has apparently kicked in, because
I'm starting to get excited about learning something new and proving my cooking
abilities. I'm thinking about which jacket to wear and which pants will
be most comfortable. I'm thinking about which knives to bring with
me. Which tools will fit in the roll. This is a real kitchen. My emergency toolbox will not be needed tomorrow.
A Xanax may be.
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