So it was our last day in Garde Manger, and I can't stop feeling like I'm walking the proverbial plank, approaching a choppy ocean full of circling sharks and deadly waves. Every FCI alum I've met has told me we'll be absolutely fine – just focus, get it done and you'll be graduating before you know it. I just wish I had a remote control for my life like Adam Sandler in the 2006 classic "Click." I would fast forward through the final exam, my impending wrist surgery and recovery and any time in the future where I have to write a rent check, run for the bus or start to get that spitty phlegmy feeling that says, "You'll be puking in the next three minutes." I would rewind and replay our rehearsal dinner, wedding day and honeymoon over and over, but would always pause on that moment when I burst through the doors at the back of the church and saw Steve's beaming face waiting for me at the end of the aisle. Finally, I would probably record the times he admits, "You're right," keeping them on the DVR for when it needs to be said, again. Anyway, I digress…
Wednesday's class was…interesting. I was handling the arctic char tartar, which has never been a really popular dish (would YOU order raw fish with blue cheese??) but we had almost a full house, so we weren't taking any chances. We cut up enough fish and made enough Yorkshire puddings for 30 orders. On a night with 75 total covers/diners, that was an extremely conservative estimate. Well, we got slammed, at times getting orders for 5 char, 6 char, 4 char one right after the other, and by 9:20pm we were all out…finite…fin. When chef announced that we'd be "86-ing" the char, the Level 5 students laughed, assuming it was a joke that it was the hottest dish of the night. It was ridiculously busy, and we were constantly requesting "all days," where chef will tally the total number of orders we had to make at each time; it can sometimes be confusing when you receive several orders at once and are putting plates out, so they help you keep track of how many you're supposed to make. It's a daunting task when you request your "all day," and the response is "twelve" or "ten." Yikes.
I've always wondered what an entire table of diners is talking about when they order the exact same thing. Personally, if there are four options you would think that you'd at least want one of each to sample, pass around and discuss. For some reason, we often get whole tables that order the exact same thing, and I find it to be incredibly boring. A few weeks ago, when I was working the Canapé station, an order came in to Level 5 Saucier for five medium rare steaks for one table. Chef heard this and commented, "Zey moost shoop at IKEA." True dat, chef, true dat.
Since we had no more orders to make for the night, we cleaned up and assisted chef with some random prep for the next class. I was tasked with making a creamy goat cheese sorbet that the Level 5 students use for their digestif, so I got the ingredients together and began the task. The gelatin needed to be "bloomed," or softened in ice water, so my teammate put it in a bowl with ice then placed it in the refrigerator. I continued melting down the goat cheese and ricotta with milk, sugar and lemon zest, then blended it all, a quart at a time, until it was thin and smooth. Each quart was placed in a special container, then cooled on an ice bath. It took forever, but by the end of class each one was blended, cooled and sealed in its perfect little packages and on their way to the deep freezer. We were packing our bags and getting ready to head out, when my teammate said, "Oh, did you need this gelatin?" as she pulled the bowl out of the refrigerator. No, I just put that gelatin in there for fun. My heart sank, and my other teammates looked at me with daggers. I took a minute to silently chastise myself, then got started on the task of unwrapping the packages, pouring them all into a large sauce pan to reheat them before stirring in the gelatin that was supposed to be there from the beginning. Two of my teammates stuck around to help me out, of which I was massively appreciative. Six hands are better than two, so we ran around heating, cooling, wrapping and freezing, and the whole process took about fifteen minutes. I felt like a huge jerk, but I guess it's not the end of the world. I could have left the bowl of gelatin in the refrigerator for chef to find the next morning, and the sorbet would not have solidified like it should and some poor soul would have to remake it. But I didn't; I kept calm, admitted my mistake and tried to make it right. I hope my teammates aren't too annoyed with me…but then again, I kind of don't care. I have four classes left. FOUR CLASSES LEFT. T-minus four classes. Oh Lord…I'm getting that spitty phlegmy feeling again…
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