During sauce day, we were able to utilize the fruits of our labor from stocks day to create some of the classic French sauces. We whipped up a Sauce espagnole, a port sauce, a white wine sauce and a Sauce Chateaubriand aux champignons, among many others. Growing up with one of my favorite comfort foods, a tuna casserole made with mom’s “white sauce,” I had sort of a prior knowledge of how to make a good roux. It helped, but it will still take me weeks and weeks of practice to learn the ridiculous number of sauces and derivatives. I am definitely regretting not taking high school French. I was so France-ignorant prior to joining FCI that I thought every sentence should end with “mon Cherie!”
Boringness aside, OMG I DID MY FIRST FLAMBE!!! It was amazing, and I didn’t even burn off any eyebrows! Definitely not something I would do in our small apartment kitchen, as the flame would lick the top of our cabinets and we probably wouldn’t get our deposit back, but in our industrial school kitchens it was very fun.
I finally got the results back from my school-required medical tests. I’m perfectly healthy, so I can joke about it now, but the experience was a little ridiculous. I was sent to the 8th floor of a midtown office building, on a block similar to the ones you see on Dateline or 20/20 when they do the child labor raids. I think I was the only person there who spoke English, which surprised me because I could have sworn I was in New York City. I really don’t mean to be rude, but the technician who drew my blood’s eyesight wasn’t prime. Ok, he was horribly cross-eyed. He stabbed the air a few times before finally reaching vein, and after informing him that I am allergic to Bandaids, please don’t place one on my skin, he approached my bleeding arm with none other than a Bandaid. So I informed him again that I am allergic to Bandaids, and he said something along the lines of “Don’t worry it only needs to be on for a few hours.” No thank you, not sure if I mentioned this or not but I’m allergic to Bandaids. The track mark he left looked more like the path US Airways flight 1549 took into the Hudson River, more of a gradual landing through the superficial layers of my skin than a clean stab into the source of blood. I then received an archaic TB test, takin’ me right on back to the good ‘ole year 1872. I was actually surprised when no one called the soothsayer to read my freckles. I should have known it would be sketchy when I was asked to pay with cash, and was the only patient not receiving a drug test. It’s ok mom and dad, I’m fine. Just make sure you tune in to tonight’s 20/20, I think you can see me in the background.
No comments:
Post a Comment