On a beautiful day in October
Two lovers united before God
He asked her to wed to show her
He was attracted to more than her bod
Indiana is gorgeous this time of year, and on Sunday, October 10th the sun shone, the birds chirped and the trees revealed orange, red and yellow leaves, just as they did exactly one year ago when two crazy kittens got married and became one large, immature, silly and obnoxious love monster that can barely take care of one feline and 600 square feet of rented property. But hey, we made it a whole year, and we can't wait for the next 70-ish more.
So there they stood, together
In front of family, friends and the priest
Outside, the beautiful fall weather
Inside, a happy and celebratory feast
On a much different note, we had packed sparingly hoping to keep our belongings to a small roller suitcase and a carry-on oversized man duffel. It wasn't until our last day there that we realized the unmarked travel bottle we had been using as face wash was actually face lotion…which explains why both of us were breaking out like 13-year olds. It could also be attributed to the 365-day old stale butter cream cake we all enthusiastically consumed, but it was worth it.
They danced from beginning to end
Didn't even get a piece of the cake
Rejoicing, careful not to overextend
For next morning a flight they had to make
Back at school, I'm flying through Garde Manger, and an unfortunate by-product of this is that I'm also nearing the final. Our dishes for this station are questionable: Beef Consommé with Fois Gras Dumplings and Poached Chicken (ew), and Arctic Char Tartar with Blue Cheese, Walnuts and a Pan-Fried Yorkshire Pudding. Very random. I learned that it's been several months since I last butchered a fish, and back then I was semi-good and fast. The Arctic Char is a small round fish, and when chef asked me if I needed a quick demo before digging in I politely declined. It took three cuts: releasing the bony collar, separating the head and beginning a slice down the spine, before chef asked me to pause so that he could provide the previously offered demo. Apparently I was hesitating too much and gripping the flesh too tightly. He took my knife in his hands, started on a new fish and had it completely done, fillets separated and bones removed, in under a minute. Damn. I returned to my first fish, but in the end it was painfully obvious which fillets were done by a professional and which fillets were done by the meek student. Service went very smoothly, considering no one wants to order raw fish with moldy cheese or boiling broth with bland chicken when it's 70˚F and sunny outside.
We are evaluated by three chefs during each level: our main chef, our pastry chef and our Garde Manger chef. The form is the same for each, with the standard fields: Organization, Preparedness, Attitude, Skill, etc, and all three evaluations are combined to form our grade for each level. The pastry chef handed out her evaluations of each of us, and I was shocked to find my grade lower than I had hoped. Was I not always prepared? Did I not act with the utmost respect? Was I not the only one to ever bring the requested special recipe? Am I not a team player? I browsed the scoring, hoping that my missteps would be obvious, yet it seemed like there had been a few points skimmed off in a few different categories. For example, I got a 7/10 for "Serves food at proper temperature and with proper seasoning." The weird thing is that all of the desserts are kept in the refrigerator until served, and nothing in pastry requires any seasoning. I was also curious why I received an 8/10 for "Sets up work station properly." When did I not grab my yellow cutting board, place a wet paper towel underneath it and keep my tools under the counter? I also distinctly remember often being the one to grab cutting boards for my whole group, exactly how a team player would work. Apparently the pastry chef is known for being unfair and biased, so I guess I'm just another unsuspecting victim who had her exceptional grade point average ruined because of one miserable person. C'est la vie.
The rest is the history of a beautiful love
In which two perfect souls are entwined
Yet only one year old, a marriage made of
The greatest story of all mankind
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