Two Semesters - part 1/3

Community college (which we will refer to as citycomm) was very much just an extension of high school.  Though not in any of my classes, I saw enough of my former classmates around campus that it was like the gang's all here.  As far as peers, though, no one else I ever came up with wanted to be a cook.  Silly me.

So.  Early one morning, like 0600, I walked to the loading dock of the building that housed our kitchen, cafeteria, lecture hall, class rooms, and auxiliary kitchens.  In the weeks leading up to my first day, I had scoped shit out while tying up the last of my loose ends on campus before classes began.  So I had an inkling of where to go and how to get into the building at such an early hour.  I was met there by another gal obviously with a shared goal and she asked if this was where we were supposed to go.  The loading dock and adjacent entrance were locked.  We didn't know what we were doing.  Eventually we found our way into the building, as did our other classmates.

Amuse-gueule

Amuse bouche or amuse gueule refer to a little something traditionally served as someone sets down to a meal in a bistro or brasserie.  Usually one or two bites, this can be rather savory and well flavored.  Something to whet your appetite and put your mind on the meal to come.  An amuse gueule also acts to shape your expectations of the chef and the direction of the meal.  Perhaps it's very casual and succinct, or ornate and luxurious, or some playful amalgam of both.  Regardless, the little tidbit before the real deal is an extension of greeting and hospitality.

So, welcome.

Salutations

Let's consider this an autobiography and a kitchen manual of sorts.

In culinary school we were taught recipes, techniques, ingredients and their provenance and how and when and why to use them.  It's grade school for a life in the food world.  Every kitchen and chef and cook has countless lessons to impart.  You're taught how to cook, or at least how to start to cook.

But you aren't taught how to be a cook.