The semester is over and I'm officially an A student. Well, actually I got two A's and one A minus, but that counts as an A student, right? Reflecting on my first semester back into academia one might ask, so, what DID I learn? Well, I've learned I don't know EVERYTHING. I had just admitted to my husband that perhaps both my most recent instructors methods, although not in line with my views of perpetuating learning, were quite possibly good for me. You see, I may be struggling (in one class yes, in the other no) to be learning the concepts in which the class was based on, but more importantly perhaps, I was learning to be flexible, which is something I never am unless I am in my yoga class, and even then not so much.
As you know, I had not exactly embraced my Hospitality instructor and came to realized while she is an abstract thinker, I am concrete, and therefore I cannot fathom how her abstract insane brain wants me to think like it does. She is a teacher, and I think she should adapt to the learning styles of her students. Apparently she does not agree. Don't get me wrong, she has a PHD, so she may be intelligent, but that doesn't mean she is smart. She may be one of those poor souls that cannot relate to us mere mortals. She may be like my old friend Terri, stupid-smart. Kinda like those people that are skinny-fat. They are thin, yet very flabby from hours of non gym going, and it surprises you, because while you expect to see the flab wiggle on the underside of the upper arm of the obese and overweight, you are taken aback by it when it confronts you in the form of a skinny girl. Come to think of it, Terri was not only stupid-smart, she was also skinny-fat. And, she was a genius in all things architectural. She could conceptualize a building so as it would not fall down in the biggest earthquake, but, ask her to perform any remotely routine act that would involve any type of common sense, like say, boiling a pot of water for a cup of tea, and she became dumber than a rock.
And so, on the eve of my big Hospitality final, my stomach churning and knotted from nerves, I sat completely bewildered by my 25 page study guide, which I had JUST finished filling in and the test was the next morning. I hadn't actually studied yet, I had just inserted the answers. And although I had a B so far in this class, a high one, it's sure been a struggle, as how can I be expected to recall what I have read in chapters 15 through 21 plus all the material that came before that when half the time I cannot remember the names of my own two children? Time was not on my side, so I scanned my study guide and prayed, literally, as I prepared for bed that night, that somehow, someway, I would mark the right answers on my final even if I didn't know them. I prayed, to God, that I be assisted in choosing the correct answer as I guessed at them. And God listened, or else I actually learned more in that class than I realized, and I ended up getting a 59 out of 60 on the final exam and thus an A in the class.
My Wednesday Nutrition class, that was a breeze, I knew I would get an A and I did. My instructor basically prides herself on how easy her class is, and, with three other jobs, really, how in depth can she get with us? So, I got A's on all my projects and tests, and the final was a regurgitation of the two quizzes we had already taken, how hard could that be? I reviewed my previous study guides that I had made, and that was it.
Currently I'm on break, and ecstatic, I need it. I didn't realize how stressful trying to keep up and get good grades could be, I'm exhausted. But, next semester looms and I am more unsure now than ever if I want to take baking, be a pastry chef or anything that requires being in a kitchen.
I'm signed up for Principles of Baking, Hospitality Purchasing, and Small Business Management. Daily, I wrack my brain as to if I should try to change these class selections. Do I really want to take the baking class? Sure, I have heard the instructor is not exactly, uh, nice. He is a master baker from Germany, and I guess his quizzes are like 10 or 12 pages long. Apparently, he tries to find you doing wrong, not right. I got all this info from Old Guy, who took the class last semester, and, then verified it online in the "Instructor Ratings" on the CSN website. But no, I'm not scared of Chef Ramsey, I am just not sure what I want, or more specifically, what I want to do. I'm positive I want to open another business, but what?
Think I'll go talk to the one that helped me pass that test.
Happy Holidays everyone. May the New Year bring you all the love, peace and happiness you deserve.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
555
I'm exhausted. And I'm now counting the number of classes before this semester is over, kinda like how when I was a kid I would count how many days until my favorite day of the year, my birthday. Or maybe more appropriately how I'd count how many days I had to go until it was time to see the dentist again, since having those fluoride treatment trays, to me, was the equivalent of having to climb the rope in gym class - both made me want to throw up.
So, I have 5 more Mondays and 5 more Wednesdays, then I have about 5 weeks off before next semester begins. Not that I am still hating school, actually the opposite, I quite like it now. But, as with everything I do, I am always in a hurry to get to a finish line, or the end, or whatever that goal is so I can think of another one and then get to the end of it. I want to see where it all leads me.
I have figured out a way to cope with my Monday Hospitality class and it is working out pretty well. I don't do my required reading prior to a lecture in class. Instead, I read only the two chapters we will be tested on in the current week, and I do this on Sunday, the day before the test. I don't go over my notes from my lecture which may sound like an odd strategy but it works for me. I've found that although I do take really thorough notes, the lectures do not accurately cover or convey what is in the textbook. Plus, we are always behind a few chapters in testing as compared to the lecture and notes for the week, thus, when I do read the book, I can recall and reinforce some of what the lecture and my notes covered and they make more sense this way.
I do have a new found respect for my instructor. I can tell she really cares about teaching, and, I have actually become interested in what we are learning in class. I may not agree with her teaching methods, but hey, figuring out a way to cope and finishing the class is a learning experience in itself. I had lunch with my sister and a friend the other day and I noticed I was able to pepper the conversation with many things I had learned in this class, I've never been a conversation pepper-er before. I like it!
As for my classmates, Chatty Cathy is as talkative as ever, and others in the class are now resorting to eye-rolling and snickering every time her hand shoots up in the air which, most classes, is enough times to give her an entire weeks worth of aerobic activity. Plumber Crack sits in front of me now, and even though she is an attractive young woman I have now learned that this look does not work on anyone, even if you are Heidi Klum. I know what you're thinking, but it isn't a cute Victoria's Secret thong peeking out from too low jeans, it is full on unattractive crack, and it is just as unpleasant being faced with it from her as it is when you are faced with it from a greasy rumpled dirty guy with cigarette stains on his fingertips and coffee stains on his teeth wearing an "I Heart Roadkill" T-shirt.
My Sanitation class is over and I got an A MINUS! I'm trying to figure out where that minus came from. I think I should have gotten an A...
So two Wednesdays ago I began my next 8 week class in place of Sanitation, Food Service Nutrition. It is taught by a Registered Dietitian with major ADD. She obviously knows her stuff, she occasionally spits out a statistic only an RD would know, but seeing her teach a class is like watching Pig Pen give the State of the Union Address. She is not only huffing and puffing as she speaks, she is speaking at breakneck speed, not finishing her sentences, supplies falling off the desk or podium, and I swear this is true there is a big dirty cloud billowing in her wake. Plus, she cracks herself up often, so all this is punctuated by a deep huh ha ha ha reminiscent of that children's TV show host that got caught in the back of a seedy theater doing something he should have thought twice about doing in public seeing as he was a children's TV show host. Any day now she'll jump up on the desk in white platforms, fists pumping forward and aft as Tequila plays in the background. And while she may be entertaining, unfortunately, she doesn't teach us anything. She zips through slides repeating "that's in the book" so often I suspect that she may be on auto-pilot and the presentation is actually on lip-sync and she's just learned to move her lips to it. Apparently, one class last semester told her all the info on her slides WAS IN THE BOOK! Did she teach her classes before that fateful day when her not so motivated students decided to weigh in on her slide show? Oh well, now we have the misfortune of not being taught what is actually quite an interesting subject.
Out of the three instructors I've had thus far, I have not exactly taken a shine to the methods of two of them. I don't ever remember feeling this way about any instructors I had in my younger school days. Now I know better!
So, I have 5 more Mondays and 5 more Wednesdays, then I have about 5 weeks off before next semester begins. Not that I am still hating school, actually the opposite, I quite like it now. But, as with everything I do, I am always in a hurry to get to a finish line, or the end, or whatever that goal is so I can think of another one and then get to the end of it. I want to see where it all leads me.
I have figured out a way to cope with my Monday Hospitality class and it is working out pretty well. I don't do my required reading prior to a lecture in class. Instead, I read only the two chapters we will be tested on in the current week, and I do this on Sunday, the day before the test. I don't go over my notes from my lecture which may sound like an odd strategy but it works for me. I've found that although I do take really thorough notes, the lectures do not accurately cover or convey what is in the textbook. Plus, we are always behind a few chapters in testing as compared to the lecture and notes for the week, thus, when I do read the book, I can recall and reinforce some of what the lecture and my notes covered and they make more sense this way.
I do have a new found respect for my instructor. I can tell she really cares about teaching, and, I have actually become interested in what we are learning in class. I may not agree with her teaching methods, but hey, figuring out a way to cope and finishing the class is a learning experience in itself. I had lunch with my sister and a friend the other day and I noticed I was able to pepper the conversation with many things I had learned in this class, I've never been a conversation pepper-er before. I like it!
As for my classmates, Chatty Cathy is as talkative as ever, and others in the class are now resorting to eye-rolling and snickering every time her hand shoots up in the air which, most classes, is enough times to give her an entire weeks worth of aerobic activity. Plumber Crack sits in front of me now, and even though she is an attractive young woman I have now learned that this look does not work on anyone, even if you are Heidi Klum. I know what you're thinking, but it isn't a cute Victoria's Secret thong peeking out from too low jeans, it is full on unattractive crack, and it is just as unpleasant being faced with it from her as it is when you are faced with it from a greasy rumpled dirty guy with cigarette stains on his fingertips and coffee stains on his teeth wearing an "I Heart Roadkill" T-shirt.
My Sanitation class is over and I got an A MINUS! I'm trying to figure out where that minus came from. I think I should have gotten an A...
So two Wednesdays ago I began my next 8 week class in place of Sanitation, Food Service Nutrition. It is taught by a Registered Dietitian with major ADD. She obviously knows her stuff, she occasionally spits out a statistic only an RD would know, but seeing her teach a class is like watching Pig Pen give the State of the Union Address. She is not only huffing and puffing as she speaks, she is speaking at breakneck speed, not finishing her sentences, supplies falling off the desk or podium, and I swear this is true there is a big dirty cloud billowing in her wake. Plus, she cracks herself up often, so all this is punctuated by a deep huh ha ha ha reminiscent of that children's TV show host that got caught in the back of a seedy theater doing something he should have thought twice about doing in public seeing as he was a children's TV show host. Any day now she'll jump up on the desk in white platforms, fists pumping forward and aft as Tequila plays in the background. And while she may be entertaining, unfortunately, she doesn't teach us anything. She zips through slides repeating "that's in the book" so often I suspect that she may be on auto-pilot and the presentation is actually on lip-sync and she's just learned to move her lips to it. Apparently, one class last semester told her all the info on her slides WAS IN THE BOOK! Did she teach her classes before that fateful day when her not so motivated students decided to weigh in on her slide show? Oh well, now we have the misfortune of not being taught what is actually quite an interesting subject.
Out of the three instructors I've had thus far, I have not exactly taken a shine to the methods of two of them. I don't ever remember feeling this way about any instructors I had in my younger school days. Now I know better!
Sunday, October 25, 2009
It's The Law
Another school week is upon me, test tomorrow studying to do today. Last Monday I decided to give myself a break from the dreaded Hospitality class I hate, so I didn't go although I am sure if I had just gone to school like I was supposed to I would have a few less scratches in the paint job on my car. The last time I skipped school I ended up saving my family from losing all of our earthly possessions. Here is how it happened to the best of my recollection (take note James Frye):
I was in 10th grade, and my parents were on a week long trip to the Bahamas or Mexico, somewhere tropical. As usual, my younger sister and I were left in the care of our older sisters, which traditionally meant none of us ever laid eyes on each other as we went our separate ways and did whatever we wanted and they spent all of their time hanging out with their friends.
Back then, Friday nights were it, the big social night. And I only had this one Friday, while my parents were away, to have a party. Problem was, I was a lowly 10th grader and school had just started, and my social network was lacking. I soon learned that you can never underestimate the power of being best friends with the prettiest girl in school. That made it easier to get people, okay boys, to come to what was now "our" party, my best friend and I. Having a beautiful friend on the ticket is a big plus when you are trying to appeal to the higher crowd. What I thought was to be a small party ended up being one so large Donald Trump's Mira Lago wouldn't have been able to contain it. On top of that, one of my older sisters came down with the flu that day. Did I cancel my fete? No, no, I sold my soul to her and she agreed to go to my aunts house to suffer!
So, party was in full force, and kids just kept showing up. It was loud. So loud, one of the neighbors called the police, and they came out and broke up the party, searched the property, somehow missed the pot someone had stashed in the dryer. I was mortified. I was pretty naive back then and was sure there was a jail cell and striped pj's emblazoned with my name already waiting for me. I was really mischievous in my younger days, but, I was not into drinking or drugs. Sure I had tried peppermint schnapps (and hated it!) one Friday night before a football game, but I'd never done anything else. However, there was no way I was going to tell the Senior guys that brought it any of this. I just pretended to be cool with it. I don't know, if I was a member of law enforcement I would think the first place they teach you to look is the dryer. Maybe they saw it and let it go. Anyway, everyone left and I got a warning. My parents were none the wiser when they got home, I went about my business, my sisters had A LOT of leverage, which they took full advantage of, as they had the party of the century to hold over my head.
Several months later, the party a distant memory, I decided to skip school, while I was AT school. My friends and I didn't go to class, instead, we hung out in the quad on school property. How smart were we? Don't answer that it is a rhetorical question. In those days, if you did not show up to class, your parents got a call, one from an actual person in the school administration office, not from a computerized and hollow voice as we do these days. The school secretary called to ask my dad if I was sick as I was absent that day. My dad knew very well I had left for school that morning. Next thing you know, I see him through the windows of the quad where we were hanging out, marching up the sidewalk to the school doors. He yanked them open, spotted me, and, well, home we went. When we got there, I ran up the steps to our front door, which I noticed was ajar, and in I went, where two guys, one with a gun, had everything of value in our house, including all my dads electronics and the safe from the master bedroom closet, loaded up in trash bags and almost ready to go. These guys saw me, and did nothing, but just then, my dad came hulking up behind me. We always called my dad Fred Flintstone, a lot of our friends were initially scared of him, he was gruff on the outside but a marshmallow on the inside. The stealers took one look at him and then they took off running. I called the police, my dad actually caught one of the guys he was chasing, and two detectives came out to interview us. It was when one of the detectives cocked his head to the side and said "I know YOU!" that I had to explain to my bewildered parents why a nice Jewish high school girl from a middle class family was acquainted with said police detective. So, while they told us it was likely the perps (yeah, I helped catch 'em I can use the lingo) or friends of theirs had cased our place at the party because they knew what we had and were prepared with a dolly to wheel out the safe, meaning had I not had the party we would not have been violated, I like to focus on the fact that if I hadn't skipped school that day my dad would have lost his favorite binoculars, his new VCR, the microwave that was so big it had its own zip code and all my deceased grandfathers class rings.
Even with my last skipping incident being sort of traumatic, I was ready to try it again. Perhaps it was the universe telling me that I should be safely ensconced in the school parking lot, where the parking stalls are sufficiently roomy so as not to ram your car door into the car parked next to you. But no, I was not in my safe zone, I was out running errands where the 40 mile an hour winds coupled with inattentive and lazy people make up one the biggest hazards to my fairly new car and its already too scratched to be this new paint job.
At the grocery store, I was parked next to a behemoth SUV, but I was well within my lines, as I always try to be. I am not a crooked park-er like my husband. It drives me crazy how he will just pull right into a parking spot and happily go about his business without even a thought to the fact that his car is really close to the line on the back passenger side. If this happens to me, I pride myself on my straightening out skills and frankly, on my ability to look out for the other guy. No one needs another scratch or ding in their door or on their bumper. So, when I came out with my bags, the owner of the traveling condo next to me was just about finished loading hers up as well. I noticed, with absolute glee, that she was polite enough to take her cart and push it to the cart receptacle, which so many people do not do, but I would NEVER think of not doing, so neither should anyone else. As the years go by, I have not only become acutely aware of my parking lines, but I am compelled to park and realize where the cart storage racks are, just like knowing where the emergency exits on the plane are located, so I can return mine promptly after I am done using it, so as not to have it roll into a car or small child causing irreparable damage. My proud of my neighbor moment quickly came to an end as I hopped in my car after returning my cart, and began to put the key in the ignition. That's when I heard a loud "thunk" and turned my head only to notice the driver door of this small apartment blew open and whacked into the side of my car. Then, incomprehensibly, miss cart-returner comes back, grabs her door and dislodges it from mine, plunks in her drivers seat and revs her engine for a fast getaway. I lunge from my car, and fly to the other side as fast as I possibly can, rapping loudly on her window before she can flee the scene. I am knocking profusely and saying, okay, maybe more loudly saying, or possibly sort of soft yelling "you hit my car!" Miss I return my cart to the proper place looks at me like I am crazy. She opens the door, steps out, and denies it. Are you kidding me? How could she ignore the fact our two vehicles had just become so close they may need to share a cigarette? Had she not just dislodged her door from mine? I heard the door hit me, I saw her get in the car. At this point, quite smartly I might add, she calmly gets out of her monster ride and takes her door and swings it open to show me the clearance between our two vehicles, thus proving she could not have caused most of the damage to my car. She willingly asks me if I want her to call the police, several times. Still not totally believing it, I slink back to my vehicle, leaving her with this strict warning which I yell at her through my cracked passenger side window: "Next time lady be more careful when you open the door when it's windy."
I then drive down the few blocks to the UPS store, so I can drop off a package containing a purchase I made during one of my online shopping sprees, which has passed the 30 day return window, but only by a few weeks. When I come out of the store, a shopping cart from the grocery store I just left is sitting up against my passengers side car door propped along the curb, leaving yet one more ding in my door. I look around for the big black SUV but it was nowhere in sight. She's stealthy, that one.
I was in 10th grade, and my parents were on a week long trip to the Bahamas or Mexico, somewhere tropical. As usual, my younger sister and I were left in the care of our older sisters, which traditionally meant none of us ever laid eyes on each other as we went our separate ways and did whatever we wanted and they spent all of their time hanging out with their friends.
Back then, Friday nights were it, the big social night. And I only had this one Friday, while my parents were away, to have a party. Problem was, I was a lowly 10th grader and school had just started, and my social network was lacking. I soon learned that you can never underestimate the power of being best friends with the prettiest girl in school. That made it easier to get people, okay boys, to come to what was now "our" party, my best friend and I. Having a beautiful friend on the ticket is a big plus when you are trying to appeal to the higher crowd. What I thought was to be a small party ended up being one so large Donald Trump's Mira Lago wouldn't have been able to contain it. On top of that, one of my older sisters came down with the flu that day. Did I cancel my fete? No, no, I sold my soul to her and she agreed to go to my aunts house to suffer!
So, party was in full force, and kids just kept showing up. It was loud. So loud, one of the neighbors called the police, and they came out and broke up the party, searched the property, somehow missed the pot someone had stashed in the dryer. I was mortified. I was pretty naive back then and was sure there was a jail cell and striped pj's emblazoned with my name already waiting for me. I was really mischievous in my younger days, but, I was not into drinking or drugs. Sure I had tried peppermint schnapps (and hated it!) one Friday night before a football game, but I'd never done anything else. However, there was no way I was going to tell the Senior guys that brought it any of this. I just pretended to be cool with it. I don't know, if I was a member of law enforcement I would think the first place they teach you to look is the dryer. Maybe they saw it and let it go. Anyway, everyone left and I got a warning. My parents were none the wiser when they got home, I went about my business, my sisters had A LOT of leverage, which they took full advantage of, as they had the party of the century to hold over my head.
Several months later, the party a distant memory, I decided to skip school, while I was AT school. My friends and I didn't go to class, instead, we hung out in the quad on school property. How smart were we? Don't answer that it is a rhetorical question. In those days, if you did not show up to class, your parents got a call, one from an actual person in the school administration office, not from a computerized and hollow voice as we do these days. The school secretary called to ask my dad if I was sick as I was absent that day. My dad knew very well I had left for school that morning. Next thing you know, I see him through the windows of the quad where we were hanging out, marching up the sidewalk to the school doors. He yanked them open, spotted me, and, well, home we went. When we got there, I ran up the steps to our front door, which I noticed was ajar, and in I went, where two guys, one with a gun, had everything of value in our house, including all my dads electronics and the safe from the master bedroom closet, loaded up in trash bags and almost ready to go. These guys saw me, and did nothing, but just then, my dad came hulking up behind me. We always called my dad Fred Flintstone, a lot of our friends were initially scared of him, he was gruff on the outside but a marshmallow on the inside. The stealers took one look at him and then they took off running. I called the police, my dad actually caught one of the guys he was chasing, and two detectives came out to interview us. It was when one of the detectives cocked his head to the side and said "I know YOU!" that I had to explain to my bewildered parents why a nice Jewish high school girl from a middle class family was acquainted with said police detective. So, while they told us it was likely the perps (yeah, I helped catch 'em I can use the lingo) or friends of theirs had cased our place at the party because they knew what we had and were prepared with a dolly to wheel out the safe, meaning had I not had the party we would not have been violated, I like to focus on the fact that if I hadn't skipped school that day my dad would have lost his favorite binoculars, his new VCR, the microwave that was so big it had its own zip code and all my deceased grandfathers class rings.
Even with my last skipping incident being sort of traumatic, I was ready to try it again. Perhaps it was the universe telling me that I should be safely ensconced in the school parking lot, where the parking stalls are sufficiently roomy so as not to ram your car door into the car parked next to you. But no, I was not in my safe zone, I was out running errands where the 40 mile an hour winds coupled with inattentive and lazy people make up one the biggest hazards to my fairly new car and its already too scratched to be this new paint job.
At the grocery store, I was parked next to a behemoth SUV, but I was well within my lines, as I always try to be. I am not a crooked park-er like my husband. It drives me crazy how he will just pull right into a parking spot and happily go about his business without even a thought to the fact that his car is really close to the line on the back passenger side. If this happens to me, I pride myself on my straightening out skills and frankly, on my ability to look out for the other guy. No one needs another scratch or ding in their door or on their bumper. So, when I came out with my bags, the owner of the traveling condo next to me was just about finished loading hers up as well. I noticed, with absolute glee, that she was polite enough to take her cart and push it to the cart receptacle, which so many people do not do, but I would NEVER think of not doing, so neither should anyone else. As the years go by, I have not only become acutely aware of my parking lines, but I am compelled to park and realize where the cart storage racks are, just like knowing where the emergency exits on the plane are located, so I can return mine promptly after I am done using it, so as not to have it roll into a car or small child causing irreparable damage. My proud of my neighbor moment quickly came to an end as I hopped in my car after returning my cart, and began to put the key in the ignition. That's when I heard a loud "thunk" and turned my head only to notice the driver door of this small apartment blew open and whacked into the side of my car. Then, incomprehensibly, miss cart-returner comes back, grabs her door and dislodges it from mine, plunks in her drivers seat and revs her engine for a fast getaway. I lunge from my car, and fly to the other side as fast as I possibly can, rapping loudly on her window before she can flee the scene. I am knocking profusely and saying, okay, maybe more loudly saying, or possibly sort of soft yelling "you hit my car!" Miss I return my cart to the proper place looks at me like I am crazy. She opens the door, steps out, and denies it. Are you kidding me? How could she ignore the fact our two vehicles had just become so close they may need to share a cigarette? Had she not just dislodged her door from mine? I heard the door hit me, I saw her get in the car. At this point, quite smartly I might add, she calmly gets out of her monster ride and takes her door and swings it open to show me the clearance between our two vehicles, thus proving she could not have caused most of the damage to my car. She willingly asks me if I want her to call the police, several times. Still not totally believing it, I slink back to my vehicle, leaving her with this strict warning which I yell at her through my cracked passenger side window: "Next time lady be more careful when you open the door when it's windy."
I then drive down the few blocks to the UPS store, so I can drop off a package containing a purchase I made during one of my online shopping sprees, which has passed the 30 day return window, but only by a few weeks. When I come out of the store, a shopping cart from the grocery store I just left is sitting up against my passengers side car door propped along the curb, leaving yet one more ding in my door. I look around for the big black SUV but it was nowhere in sight. She's stealthy, that one.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Curb
There is something wrong with me. Or else, I suspect I am Larry David's twin but somehow younger sister and we were secretly separated at birth. There is no other explanation. Honestly, I know I talk a lot about age and getting older, but I don't actually think I AM old, I like my age. However, I keep doing and saying things that mortify me but I can't seem to stop myself. It's like I'm having an outer body experience and my being has been taken over by my 98 year old dead grandmother, and I'm watching from up above, horrified, as my earthly body conducts itself. Pretty soon I'm gonna be wearing black orthopaedic shoes with my stockings rolled down to the knees and I'm going to want to split a .25 cent cup of coffee, so as not to waste any money on a full cup for myself.
Now, I've meant to write much more frequently than I have been, in fact, I thought I'd be writing daily. However, last week some of my behavior was so LD/grandma - like that I couldn't even bring myself to put it down for posterity without a bit of distance between the offending behavior and actually writing about it. Just some of the things that may qualify me for the assisted living facility way before my time:
I have a history of doing pretty well in several different areas. I learn quickly, but never took full advantage of actually learning a profession and sticking with it, something I have always regretted. My experiences have made me well rounded to a point, and have definitely been positive, but you've heard the saying about being a jack of all trades and a master at none, that's kind of how I see myself. I'm ashamed to admit I never finished college, even though my parents were supportive in sending me to three of them. Still, I've been able to do some of the things I thought I would go to college for - I wanted to be an Attorney (never was, did you know you actually DO have to have a degree to pull that one off), I wanted to be a Buyer (and actually I was for a while) I wanted to own a business (and did!). I went to FIDM and did quite well until I got bored with it 36 credits in. I had my retail career at any rate. I ended up getting a job with a company that owned over 2,000 stores nationwide and I worked my way up from Merchandising Supervisor, to Store Manager, to Assistant DM before the owner passed away and his family decided to close all the stores. I had a long stint in outside sales. I learned insurance and sold a Medicare HMO product, I learned to run a one hour photo machine and worked for Kodak's one hour photo division, I learned about counter tops and worked for LG representing their solid surface product to fabricators and home builders. Heck, I even got an aesthetician's license and became a Business Consultant for a huge skin care company. Then, I co-founded and ran a business skirting the entertainment industry. Now, I'm in school, and frankly, I'm not only turning into a curmudgeon (yes, I said curmudgeon and I mean it) but I am lost. And that is why I have not written. Time is coming to sign up for next semester, and I don't know what I want to sign up for. I AM getting more out of the school experience at this stage of my life, and truly care how I perform and what I learn. That is a good thing and makes me feel good about doing it, but I am so damn confused about what to do with myself that I think perhaps I'm taking classes that I will not use in a profession down the road. As my husband says, and I wish I believed 100%, any knowledge I gain is not wasted, even if I don't use it directly.
So, I'm going to write more often no matter what, because I realize my goal is that I WANT to remember what happens to me during this process, so I better write it down. This is not only my accounting of my experience in going back to school and moving on to whatever comes next, but, as I've found out tonight, it's pretty good therapy too. No answers yet, only questions, hope the answer comes soon.
Now, I've meant to write much more frequently than I have been, in fact, I thought I'd be writing daily. However, last week some of my behavior was so LD/grandma - like that I couldn't even bring myself to put it down for posterity without a bit of distance between the offending behavior and actually writing about it. Just some of the things that may qualify me for the assisted living facility way before my time:
- I narrowed my eyes menacingly at a perfectly sweet yet undeniably unprepared classmate when she asked me to borrow a Scantron for our weekly test because I couldn't fathom that she would even think to come to school without the necessary tools, chancing that some kindred soul in class would take pity on her and share, which I did, but not without sending her my best "I'm disgusted with your lack of responsibility" look. I've perfected this one on my kids.
- I said out loud "have you heard of soap?" to a student that left the bathroom after rinsing her hands with water but not actually washing them.
- I decided my Hospitality instructor is a crappy instructor and basically told her I do not like nor do I agree with her teaching methods.
- Instead of listening to lecture in Sanitation I spent the entire class fixated on Old Guy, who had a cough and a runny nose and a handkerchief, which he used over and over, much to my chagrin, as I personally am very fond of anti-viral Kleenex.
I have a history of doing pretty well in several different areas. I learn quickly, but never took full advantage of actually learning a profession and sticking with it, something I have always regretted. My experiences have made me well rounded to a point, and have definitely been positive, but you've heard the saying about being a jack of all trades and a master at none, that's kind of how I see myself. I'm ashamed to admit I never finished college, even though my parents were supportive in sending me to three of them. Still, I've been able to do some of the things I thought I would go to college for - I wanted to be an Attorney (never was, did you know you actually DO have to have a degree to pull that one off), I wanted to be a Buyer (and actually I was for a while) I wanted to own a business (and did!). I went to FIDM and did quite well until I got bored with it 36 credits in. I had my retail career at any rate. I ended up getting a job with a company that owned over 2,000 stores nationwide and I worked my way up from Merchandising Supervisor, to Store Manager, to Assistant DM before the owner passed away and his family decided to close all the stores. I had a long stint in outside sales. I learned insurance and sold a Medicare HMO product, I learned to run a one hour photo machine and worked for Kodak's one hour photo division, I learned about counter tops and worked for LG representing their solid surface product to fabricators and home builders. Heck, I even got an aesthetician's license and became a Business Consultant for a huge skin care company. Then, I co-founded and ran a business skirting the entertainment industry. Now, I'm in school, and frankly, I'm not only turning into a curmudgeon (yes, I said curmudgeon and I mean it) but I am lost. And that is why I have not written. Time is coming to sign up for next semester, and I don't know what I want to sign up for. I AM getting more out of the school experience at this stage of my life, and truly care how I perform and what I learn. That is a good thing and makes me feel good about doing it, but I am so damn confused about what to do with myself that I think perhaps I'm taking classes that I will not use in a profession down the road. As my husband says, and I wish I believed 100%, any knowledge I gain is not wasted, even if I don't use it directly.
So, I'm going to write more often no matter what, because I realize my goal is that I WANT to remember what happens to me during this process, so I better write it down. This is not only my accounting of my experience in going back to school and moving on to whatever comes next, but, as I've found out tonight, it's pretty good therapy too. No answers yet, only questions, hope the answer comes soon.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
The Way It Is
Is there an age limit when it comes to liking a Miley Cyrus song? Hey, she's a cute, talented girl, but I never saw the need to add her to my list of preferred artists. That said, I can recognize talent when I hear it, and I like that Party in the USA song, it has great lyrics and it has a great beat. The first time I heard it was when everyone was going crazy over her singing it while doing stripper moves on a stripper pole at an awards show, as was being discussed by my favorite local morning deejays. I hadn't watched the show, and I admit I was beyond curious so I looked up the video of the performance which was posted on the radio show website. Truly people, she was on top of an ICE CREAM CART holding on to the UMBRELLA POLE. Yea, so, the umbrella was nowhere to be found, but I hardly think this constitutes stripper moves and said pole. The last time you visited Scores were they even serving ice cream? I didn't think so.
I have another confession to make, school is boring, adding to my list of not so popular or maybe they are but you are not stupid enough to actually voice them out loud opinions, which now include I think The Secret is stupid, I love TV especially reality TV, I hated the movie and stage versions of Mamma Mia, I like Miley and I also hated the movie Moulin Rouge with Nicole Kidman. I wish school were more exciting, giving me a plethora of material to store up and write about, as I thought it would, but it's not. If it were, I wouldn't have to open my blog post which is supposed to be about my journey through academia, with Miley Cyrus accolades. I think school may get more interesting next semester once I actually start hands on baking classes, but hey, who knows, maybe that will be a snooze fest too. I'm five weeks in and I am not having fun at this point. I'm doing what is necessary, and there is no f-u- or n anywhere to be found, except in my own head, which of course has nothing to do with the actual learning process. I thought my classes would truly and sincerely be riveting. Shows you what I know. Maybe this is why I had such a difficult time embracing higher learning when I was younger.
In order to keep myself awake during class, I've resorted to spending about 97% of my time in class not actually being present in it, but instead thinking to myself about my fellow students and school in general. Now, I still have my sights set on nothing less than "A's" in my classes and you would think that getting one would actually require you to pay attention while in attendance, but not in the case of the classes I am taking now. In Hospitality, we have 7 tests and a final. The week we are being lectured to during class on chapters 7 & 8, we take our quiz on chapters 3 & 4. Now I don't know about anyone else, but my brain cannot function like that. It needs order. If we are being lectured on chapters, it expects to test on those chapters the next week at the beginning of class, so it can store that info away and move on. It cannot continue to learn new concepts 4 chapters ahead and then recall old ones for a quiz on chapters we discussed 3 weeks ago. No, that is not how my brain rolls.
In Sanitation, all my homework was done online and submitted, my 2 quizzes and final are done online and submitted, all I really have to submit during class is my certification exam on the last day, in 3 weeks. All the notes and lecture slides are online. These classroom conditions thus give me plenty of time to not really pay full attention and instead make my steely and/or possibly entirely inaccurate observations of the students around me. Here are a few things I have made mental note of:
I have another confession to make, school is boring, adding to my list of not so popular or maybe they are but you are not stupid enough to actually voice them out loud opinions, which now include I think The Secret is stupid, I love TV especially reality TV, I hated the movie and stage versions of Mamma Mia, I like Miley and I also hated the movie Moulin Rouge with Nicole Kidman. I wish school were more exciting, giving me a plethora of material to store up and write about, as I thought it would, but it's not. If it were, I wouldn't have to open my blog post which is supposed to be about my journey through academia, with Miley Cyrus accolades. I think school may get more interesting next semester once I actually start hands on baking classes, but hey, who knows, maybe that will be a snooze fest too. I'm five weeks in and I am not having fun at this point. I'm doing what is necessary, and there is no f-u- or n anywhere to be found, except in my own head, which of course has nothing to do with the actual learning process. I thought my classes would truly and sincerely be riveting. Shows you what I know. Maybe this is why I had such a difficult time embracing higher learning when I was younger.
In order to keep myself awake during class, I've resorted to spending about 97% of my time in class not actually being present in it, but instead thinking to myself about my fellow students and school in general. Now, I still have my sights set on nothing less than "A's" in my classes and you would think that getting one would actually require you to pay attention while in attendance, but not in the case of the classes I am taking now. In Hospitality, we have 7 tests and a final. The week we are being lectured to during class on chapters 7 & 8, we take our quiz on chapters 3 & 4. Now I don't know about anyone else, but my brain cannot function like that. It needs order. If we are being lectured on chapters, it expects to test on those chapters the next week at the beginning of class, so it can store that info away and move on. It cannot continue to learn new concepts 4 chapters ahead and then recall old ones for a quiz on chapters we discussed 3 weeks ago. No, that is not how my brain rolls.
In Sanitation, all my homework was done online and submitted, my 2 quizzes and final are done online and submitted, all I really have to submit during class is my certification exam on the last day, in 3 weeks. All the notes and lecture slides are online. These classroom conditions thus give me plenty of time to not really pay full attention and instead make my steely and/or possibly entirely inaccurate observations of the students around me. Here are a few things I have made mental note of:
- The first day of school was a red carpet event, girls wore full makeup applied by professional makeup artist Gucci Westman, nails were manicured, hair coiffed, outfits were worn with heels.
- By week 5 girls come to school wearing no makeup or if you are me tinted moisturizer, a UNLV hoodie, jeans, flip flops and chipped polish.
- Boys don't really care what they look like whether it is day 1 or day 30.
- Chatty Cathy was only chatty one day, not sure why, but thankful for it and praying it continues this way.
- There is a large group of kids in my Wednesday class that all seem to be friends, and they speak little discernible English, throwing blank stares at the Instructor when he asks us questions during lecture expecting a response from someone other than myself, Old Guy, or IWSIUTASWTIISG. His utterances of "anybody, anybody"? remind me of Ben Stein in Forest Bueller and are, frankly, just plain awkward.
- These same kids all have these little zip pouches that they put on the desk in front of themselves during class, and I am dying to know what is in them. I think pens and pencils or sunglasses. The girls pouches have Hello Kitty or Mini Mouse, the boys pouches are silk solids or brightly colored silk stripes.
- Old Guy is 70 years of age, he lives across the street from the SW campus and on Tuesdays and Thursdays he goes there to take ceramics. He is auditing this class so he doesn't mind that he got an 80 on the last quiz. He favors Billabong shorts and wears them with golf shirts.
- The sweet girl that always sits next to me Wednesdays has such a thick accent that every time she turns to me and opens her mouth I break out in a sweat and my scary clown smile as the world stands still while I concentrate and listen so I can verify and repeat, or try to, everything she asks me and then I have no answer, giving her a back and forth head shake, shoulder shrug and "I don't know" each and every time. Yet, she continues to have faith in me, as she obviously thinks I am much smarter than I actually am and that is probably only due to the fact that English is my native language.
- There is a kid in class that has sign language assistance. There are 2 signers that attend class with him, and I haven't asked yet, but am wondering why he needs 2. They periodically switch places and take turns signing to him. Is there a rule that only allows them to sign a certain amount of time before they get a break? They are really good actresses, they don't just sit there and blankly sign, as one might expect. They throw everything into it and use facial expression and animated gestures. They are highly entertaining and a delightful distraction.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Testing 1,2,3
I went to the counseling office this week to check on something and found out my current GPA is a 2.0. This is due to a golf class my husband and I began Spring semester but didn't finish. He blames me for being a bad influence on him when it comes to all things scholastic (he's the one with 3 degrees so I barely have a leg to stand on here) but hey honey, I have two words for you: Basic Cookery. Who influenced who on that one, huh?
My husband has always wanted to golf, and for his holiday present last year I bought him clubs, and thinking it would be fun to have a hobby we could do together besides fighting over who gets to record what shows on the DVR, we signed up for golf lessons through Community College. DVR's only record 2 shows at once, which, if you are a TV addict, isn't close to sufficient, and if you are a TV addict and you live with a TV addict, is preposterous, and if you are still in the process of contemplating getting a second DVR for upstairs at an extra $20 a month, bringing your monthly cable bill to almost the same amount as the national debt, well, golf seems like a much less expensive hobby. So we went the community college route thinking that we could give it the old college try, and if we didn't like it, we hadn't spent a fortune on lessons or DVR's. He liked it, I didn't, NEITHER of us continued. The instructor gave anyone that showed up even once to class a C, thus my stellar 2.0 GPA. So, now, unwittingly, I have to make up for a less than illustrious start in school all because I didn't want to spend a lot to take a lesson with a pro or continue to foster my local cable company's bid for world dominance. Worth it? I think not.
This week I had my first test in Hospitality, and my second test in Sanitation. I am determined to get A's in both classes, however, that may be a dream and not reality. I am bored beyond belief in my Hospitality class and since I have cataracts in both eyes and my vision is waning I can hardly do my reading as the books are clearly geared towards the young, healthy eyed reader. Every time I try to read my book I end up with a huge headache. So, first test, 20 points, I score 17. My instructor said if we score 17 and below on the first few tests she recommends we drop the class. We have 7 quizzes worth 20 points each and a final worth 60 points, 200 points in all for the entire class. One quiz, first quiz, and I already need to contemplate quitting? I figured if I get 17 on every quiz and a perfect score on the final I will be one point away from an A. I am NOT dropping this class and it is NOT dropping my GPA!
For Sanitation class, I got 2 wrong this quiz, giving me 108 points out of 112. I have an A at this point, but my worry is the final, as it is cumulative on all chapters. In small chunks the content of the course is challenging, in one big chunk for the final I am afraid it will be daunting. Although I have been in school a whole month now, and I feel more comfortable with it than when I first started, my memory, or lack thereof, is definitely a hurdle, but one I am determined to make it over come hell or high water. I'm also increasingly glad that I only took 2 classes this semester so I could ease back (can you say ease back in when you have been out for over 20 years) in to the school and studying scene.
On the baking front, my sister and I keep talking about ideas for products. We don't want to do a run of the mill bakery or cupcakes, being done. We want more of a niche. We have some good ideas, we'll see what comes of them.
Till next time...
My husband has always wanted to golf, and for his holiday present last year I bought him clubs, and thinking it would be fun to have a hobby we could do together besides fighting over who gets to record what shows on the DVR, we signed up for golf lessons through Community College. DVR's only record 2 shows at once, which, if you are a TV addict, isn't close to sufficient, and if you are a TV addict and you live with a TV addict, is preposterous, and if you are still in the process of contemplating getting a second DVR for upstairs at an extra $20 a month, bringing your monthly cable bill to almost the same amount as the national debt, well, golf seems like a much less expensive hobby. So we went the community college route thinking that we could give it the old college try, and if we didn't like it, we hadn't spent a fortune on lessons or DVR's. He liked it, I didn't, NEITHER of us continued. The instructor gave anyone that showed up even once to class a C, thus my stellar 2.0 GPA. So, now, unwittingly, I have to make up for a less than illustrious start in school all because I didn't want to spend a lot to take a lesson with a pro or continue to foster my local cable company's bid for world dominance. Worth it? I think not.
This week I had my first test in Hospitality, and my second test in Sanitation. I am determined to get A's in both classes, however, that may be a dream and not reality. I am bored beyond belief in my Hospitality class and since I have cataracts in both eyes and my vision is waning I can hardly do my reading as the books are clearly geared towards the young, healthy eyed reader. Every time I try to read my book I end up with a huge headache. So, first test, 20 points, I score 17. My instructor said if we score 17 and below on the first few tests she recommends we drop the class. We have 7 quizzes worth 20 points each and a final worth 60 points, 200 points in all for the entire class. One quiz, first quiz, and I already need to contemplate quitting? I figured if I get 17 on every quiz and a perfect score on the final I will be one point away from an A. I am NOT dropping this class and it is NOT dropping my GPA!
For Sanitation class, I got 2 wrong this quiz, giving me 108 points out of 112. I have an A at this point, but my worry is the final, as it is cumulative on all chapters. In small chunks the content of the course is challenging, in one big chunk for the final I am afraid it will be daunting. Although I have been in school a whole month now, and I feel more comfortable with it than when I first started, my memory, or lack thereof, is definitely a hurdle, but one I am determined to make it over come hell or high water. I'm also increasingly glad that I only took 2 classes this semester so I could ease back (can you say ease back in when you have been out for over 20 years) in to the school and studying scene.
On the baking front, my sister and I keep talking about ideas for products. We don't want to do a run of the mill bakery or cupcakes, being done. We want more of a niche. We have some good ideas, we'll see what comes of them.
Till next time...
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The Only Guarantees in Life are Death and Taxes
It's been a week since I have written and I did not intend to go so long between blogs, but then again, what has happened this past week could not be anticipated. Death has a way of taking you by surprise.On a happy note, my sister is out of the hospital and is holding her own. Thanks to all for your well wishes. On a very sad note, last Tuesday night, as I was leaving the hospital after a visit with her, my son sent me a text and told me that his best friend had passed away. He was 20 years old. Both my sons were friends of this wonderful young man, and his passing has had a profound impact on us all. While we will remember all the good times, we will miss him dearly.
It was a hectic and emotional week to say the least. I had school the next morning and although I did not sleep that night, I made myself get up and go anyways. I am glad I did, it took my mind off of this tragic loss for a few hours, and, Old Guy talked to me! I have a friend in school! Plus, IWSIUTASWTIISG (our new abbreviated name for I Will Say Inappropriate Unrelated Things and Speak While The Instructor Is Speaking Girl as typing THAT out all the time will just be too time consuming) must have been really tired as she had her head down on the desk most of class and did not speak to me incessantly during class. She did blurt out to ask me "small town bakery or big city bakery?" when Old Guy inquired what I was doing in school and I responded I was getting my Pastry Chef degree so I could I open a bakery. I have no idea what that question means. I was proud of myself for going to school despite how I was feeling.
My cancer cakes (pictured) turned out tasty but I have a habit of over-baking. Not happy with them of course!
Then, I had to run around like a mad woman because this was also the week of the birthday cake. My nephew's 4th birthday party was Saturday, and I promised the cake, no matter what, I was going to provide it. So, in between running around for the funeral (appropriate clothes for the boys, cards, etc.) and the cake, I was in frenzy mode. Thursday, Friday and Saturday are a big blur. The birthday cake (also pictured) is from GI Joe: The Rise of The Cobra. It has Snake Eyes on the top of the cake. It did not turn out even close to how I wanted it to, although it tasted really good, the design of it was not at all what I had in my head. Oh well, for my first tiered cake and under the circumstances I guess it was okay.
RIP TK...
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Off The Beaten Path
I think The Secret is stupid. There, I said it. I also hated the movie and stage versions of Mamma Mia. I know I am in the minority on these two points, but, as with my love of reality TV and my aversion to corporate Friday T-shirt days I have my opinions and I'm sticking to them.
Now, let me be clear, I totally believe in the power of positive thinking, I just don't believe it is an ancient mythical secret that you have to pay 29.99 for a DVD to learn. You see, I tried to watch The Secret but after about 10 minutes I laughed out loud at the pomposity of it all and promptly fell asleep. Even I, a non-Secret watcher, can want something really bad, can vow to make it happen, and it can happen. Just like that, like magic. So, remember a couple of blogs ago I described the main building of my school as Downtown L.A. and the culinary wing as Palm Springs and I vowed to get my Monday class moved to the culinary wing, thus spending all my time in PS (clean, pristine!) and less germy conditions? Well, I did it. Yesterday I walked into class, just the second one I've had on Monday as last week was a holiday, and what do you think it said under "announcements" on the board? Yep, classroom moves next week. Where do you suppose it moves to? Yep, culinary wing! And get this, the reason is because we have too many students for our current classroom, so they had to move us to a larger one. Miracles DO happen! I didn't even have to fake a fire or anything.
One student in class yesterday felt the need to make a comment after every point our instructor made. Literally, every point. By the end of class, which, by the way, ran 3 minutes over not 15 minutes early as we were told it would, the instructor was asking Chatty Cathy to hold her comments. If she had had a BB gun I'm sure she would have pulled it out and shot that hand right out of the sky so we could get on with it already. Why do some people feel the need to hear themselves speak? Initially, some of CC's comments were adding an element of conversation to the class and enhancing it. By the end, you could tell she just needed to hear the sound of her own voice. We don't really need to hear every experience YOU have had that falls under the topic of what we are discussing. One or two would suffice. In the corporate world, I've been in meetings where a co-worker has done this, and it drives me, and probably everyone else in the room, crazy. Edit people, pay attention to cues. When you hear sighs and see eye rolls it is time to stop.
Also this week, I am making my nephew's 4th birthday cake. Initially he wanted transformers but changed his mind to GI Joe: Rise of the Cobra. I've made test frosting, a test 3D mask that will go on top of the cake, and have all the fondant and supplies. This cake is gonna cost $200 by the time I'm done. I have bought so many supplies I told my husband the cake will have to be the be the kids present! I'll take a picture of it once it is done and post it. Hopefully, it will turn out the way I planned. It is my first official tiered, home made, decorated with tricks from all the cake shows I watch cake.
Lastly, I am in the process of making mini banana dark chocolate cancer cakes. It's a recipe I modified from a Betty Crocker cancer cookbook. I volunteer at a cancer support center so I'm bringing them in for the program participants. Baking calms me down. My sis is in the hospital and we are awaiting word on what is going on, so I'm baking this morning. Will take pics and post, of course!
Everyone say a prayer for my sister please.
Now, let me be clear, I totally believe in the power of positive thinking, I just don't believe it is an ancient mythical secret that you have to pay 29.99 for a DVD to learn. You see, I tried to watch The Secret but after about 10 minutes I laughed out loud at the pomposity of it all and promptly fell asleep. Even I, a non-Secret watcher, can want something really bad, can vow to make it happen, and it can happen. Just like that, like magic. So, remember a couple of blogs ago I described the main building of my school as Downtown L.A. and the culinary wing as Palm Springs and I vowed to get my Monday class moved to the culinary wing, thus spending all my time in PS (clean, pristine!) and less germy conditions? Well, I did it. Yesterday I walked into class, just the second one I've had on Monday as last week was a holiday, and what do you think it said under "announcements" on the board? Yep, classroom moves next week. Where do you suppose it moves to? Yep, culinary wing! And get this, the reason is because we have too many students for our current classroom, so they had to move us to a larger one. Miracles DO happen! I didn't even have to fake a fire or anything.
One student in class yesterday felt the need to make a comment after every point our instructor made. Literally, every point. By the end of class, which, by the way, ran 3 minutes over not 15 minutes early as we were told it would, the instructor was asking Chatty Cathy to hold her comments. If she had had a BB gun I'm sure she would have pulled it out and shot that hand right out of the sky so we could get on with it already. Why do some people feel the need to hear themselves speak? Initially, some of CC's comments were adding an element of conversation to the class and enhancing it. By the end, you could tell she just needed to hear the sound of her own voice. We don't really need to hear every experience YOU have had that falls under the topic of what we are discussing. One or two would suffice. In the corporate world, I've been in meetings where a co-worker has done this, and it drives me, and probably everyone else in the room, crazy. Edit people, pay attention to cues. When you hear sighs and see eye rolls it is time to stop.
Also this week, I am making my nephew's 4th birthday cake. Initially he wanted transformers but changed his mind to GI Joe: Rise of the Cobra. I've made test frosting, a test 3D mask that will go on top of the cake, and have all the fondant and supplies. This cake is gonna cost $200 by the time I'm done. I have bought so many supplies I told my husband the cake will have to be the be the kids present! I'll take a picture of it once it is done and post it. Hopefully, it will turn out the way I planned. It is my first official tiered, home made, decorated with tricks from all the cake shows I watch cake.
Lastly, I am in the process of making mini banana dark chocolate cancer cakes. It's a recipe I modified from a Betty Crocker cancer cookbook. I volunteer at a cancer support center so I'm bringing them in for the program participants. Baking calms me down. My sis is in the hospital and we are awaiting word on what is going on, so I'm baking this morning. Will take pics and post, of course!
Everyone say a prayer for my sister please.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Make New Friends But Keep the Old
Yes! There was a new student in my Sanitation class yesterday and I am ecstatic! Not only is he a card carrying adult, he is a senior citizen. If he doesn't have AARP, Medicare, and at least a 6 in front of his age than my mother is Julia Child. I am now officially NOT the oldest person in that class by a mile and I love Old Guy for it. He sat in front of me and I tried my best to smile as hard as possible at the back of his head so he would turn around, and then we could forge the bond and be adult going back to school buddies. Since that didn't work out as planned, I excitedly jumped forward to answer his question about our online learning process, only to be beat out by an Emo kid with barely understandable English skills sitting next to my new BFF. Apparently you need to be much quicker on the draw in Community College. Walking around campus, I find myself smiling like a scary circus clown at anyone that looks like they have at least a 4 in front of their age. It's like we belong to the same club, but unfortunately none of the adult learner possible BFF's that I have crossed paths with seem the least bit interested in joining. Maybe it's the creepy smile.
So far the only student that has tried to come into my circle is I Will Say Inappropriate Unrelated Things and Speak While The Instructor Is Speaking Girl. She sits behind me in Sanitation and seems to want to tell me things I am not interested in knowing. I am transported back to high school as I smile, in a not scary clown way but a "why are you talking to me you are obviously a bit crazy and odd but I want to appear polite so I am smiling" way. Last week I thought it might be a fluke and she was just nervous about being in a new setting, but this week she was at it again and I found myself reduced to one word not so enthusiastic answers once the dialog began. What was I going to say to her when she spied my Starbucks in my hand and informed me, unprovoked, as I sat down in class that the only hot drink she likes is hot chocolate? She then proceeded to talk to me about "the river", her father and his transfer from "the river" firehouse to a house in Las Vegas, how she had been a Pastry student at Cordon Bleu but that didn't work out (oh God, really - I'm afraid to ask), the Charter high school she went to, and her brother, who is 17 and looks like HE is the 20 year old, attends now. I don't know her name but I know her entire family and their history dating back to the 1800's. She continued to talk to me, okay, well, she was talking, looking at me, but clearly she didn't want or need responses, she just wanted her prey to listen, as the instructor began the class. At that point I turned around, I am not jeopardizing my A for anyone sister! I then spent the next hour of class completely consumed with guilt for acting like a person about 25 years younger than my actual age and not someone who has kids her age. So, during our first break, I decided I would purposely turn back around to her and almost make eye contact which would in turn get her to start up again (it worked!) and THIS time I could be my nice and pleasant self and squash my guilt. Once class ended I stalled a few minutes pretending to put stuff in my book bag as I Will Say Inappropriate Unrelated Things and Speak While The Instructor Is Speaking Girl vanished into the culinary halls like vapor looking for her next victim.
Then I went home, took my first exam for this class exactly the moment my instructor made it available online, scored 106 out of 112, and began plotting how to weasel myself into Old Guys row at school next week.
So far the only student that has tried to come into my circle is I Will Say Inappropriate Unrelated Things and Speak While The Instructor Is Speaking Girl. She sits behind me in Sanitation and seems to want to tell me things I am not interested in knowing. I am transported back to high school as I smile, in a not scary clown way but a "why are you talking to me you are obviously a bit crazy and odd but I want to appear polite so I am smiling" way. Last week I thought it might be a fluke and she was just nervous about being in a new setting, but this week she was at it again and I found myself reduced to one word not so enthusiastic answers once the dialog began. What was I going to say to her when she spied my Starbucks in my hand and informed me, unprovoked, as I sat down in class that the only hot drink she likes is hot chocolate? She then proceeded to talk to me about "the river", her father and his transfer from "the river" firehouse to a house in Las Vegas, how she had been a Pastry student at Cordon Bleu but that didn't work out (oh God, really - I'm afraid to ask), the Charter high school she went to, and her brother, who is 17 and looks like HE is the 20 year old, attends now. I don't know her name but I know her entire family and their history dating back to the 1800's. She continued to talk to me, okay, well, she was talking, looking at me, but clearly she didn't want or need responses, she just wanted her prey to listen, as the instructor began the class. At that point I turned around, I am not jeopardizing my A for anyone sister! I then spent the next hour of class completely consumed with guilt for acting like a person about 25 years younger than my actual age and not someone who has kids her age. So, during our first break, I decided I would purposely turn back around to her and almost make eye contact which would in turn get her to start up again (it worked!) and THIS time I could be my nice and pleasant self and squash my guilt. Once class ended I stalled a few minutes pretending to put stuff in my book bag as I Will Say Inappropriate Unrelated Things and Speak While The Instructor Is Speaking Girl vanished into the culinary halls like vapor looking for her next victim.
Then I went home, took my first exam for this class exactly the moment my instructor made it available online, scored 106 out of 112, and began plotting how to weasel myself into Old Guys row at school next week.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Overachievers Anonymous
I think about writing and what to write about all the time now. Every conversation, everything that happens to me goes into the "maybe I will write about this" file. And then I get to choose what I share and what I don't. I've never been the kind of person that is really censored, conversely I never planned to be in my own little form of reality hanging it all out there for anyone to see, but, that is the reality of doing this since others can read it besides me.
So, the other day a friend of mine said it was really cool that I was letting people (and by people I mean I am up to about 10 readers) see my neurosis. Those were not his exact words, but that was the gist of it. You know, the whole I'm a bit more concerned about germs than the average person, perhaps my intense dislike of bugs, those types of things. Maybe we don't all broadcast them, but we all have them, don't we? Here's another one of mine - I'm a bit more compulsive than I used to be and have an inane need to do well, and by well I mean nothing less than 100%. I'm sure back in the day my parents would have appreciated my need to achieve, and there is something to be said about caring how well you do, but perfection, really?
As you know, I attended my first class on Sanitation just last week on Wednesday. My instructor informed us that day that all our homework was online and was to be submitted that way. In addition, he told us that if we like, we can actually go online and do all our homework for his class ahead of time. Twenty something years ago that would have meant to me that I would attempt to complete 14 chapters of homework ten minutes before they were due. Now, it means that by Saturday, a mere 3 days after I was told I could pre-do my homework, I had in fact completed every assignment. And I was pissed. Why? Because I got 4 questions wrong and have a 97.6% grade on my homework. So there you have it, I really really want to do well. I want an "A" but this class is hard, and I am not sure I can sustain this grade level come test time. Memory is key, there are a lot of numbers and weird sounding bacterias and viruses, I have to know my Listeria from my Shigella, and symptoms are strikingly similar. Diarrhea? Check? Cramps? Uh huh.
By the way, did I tell you I am deathly afraid to fly?
So, the other day a friend of mine said it was really cool that I was letting people (and by people I mean I am up to about 10 readers) see my neurosis. Those were not his exact words, but that was the gist of it. You know, the whole I'm a bit more concerned about germs than the average person, perhaps my intense dislike of bugs, those types of things. Maybe we don't all broadcast them, but we all have them, don't we? Here's another one of mine - I'm a bit more compulsive than I used to be and have an inane need to do well, and by well I mean nothing less than 100%. I'm sure back in the day my parents would have appreciated my need to achieve, and there is something to be said about caring how well you do, but perfection, really?
As you know, I attended my first class on Sanitation just last week on Wednesday. My instructor informed us that day that all our homework was online and was to be submitted that way. In addition, he told us that if we like, we can actually go online and do all our homework for his class ahead of time. Twenty something years ago that would have meant to me that I would attempt to complete 14 chapters of homework ten minutes before they were due. Now, it means that by Saturday, a mere 3 days after I was told I could pre-do my homework, I had in fact completed every assignment. And I was pissed. Why? Because I got 4 questions wrong and have a 97.6% grade on my homework. So there you have it, I really really want to do well. I want an "A" but this class is hard, and I am not sure I can sustain this grade level come test time. Memory is key, there are a lot of numbers and weird sounding bacterias and viruses, I have to know my Listeria from my Shigella, and symptoms are strikingly similar. Diarrhea? Check? Cramps? Uh huh.
By the way, did I tell you I am deathly afraid to fly?
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Move Over Jenny Craig There's a New Diet in Town
I learned A LOT today, literally. But before I get to that I have to tell you - I have 2 followers! Okay, so one of them is my husband and I made him be a follower, but one of them is not even a relative of mine. When I saw I had another follower (you know who you are and I am your new best friend! thank you for following) besides my beloved husband of so many years, someone that is out there in the world whom I don't know and whom I didn't have to coerce to do the following, my heart literally skipped a beat from excitement! For those of you asking yourself how DO I follow this wildly entertaining blog, you can become a follower of my blog by scrolling down to the "followers" section on the left and signing up to follow. If you want to give me a thrill, just do it. I am sure anytime a follower is added I will be just as excited as I was this first time. Plus, this is one instance where being a follower and not a leader is a good thing.
Another point before I get to what I learned today, for all of you wondering, I am NOT writing this blog because I saw the movie Julie & Julia. I did see the movie, and loved it, especially Meryl Streep and Stanley Tucci, however, I was contemplating writing a blog a long time ago. In fact, the movie made me temporarily decide not to write one for fear of being unoriginal, but then I said screw it and am writing it anyway. I bring this up because my sister-in-law called me the other day to ask if I am doing this because of the movie, which, I have made clear, I am not! But, whatever!
So back to what I learned at school today. First of all, parking. At the main campus of CSN it seems everyone tries to park in this main lot and it is crowded, almost impossible to find a spot. If you veer left there is another parking lot and it was a snap to get a spot today, and even though I was 5 minutes late for class already when I pulled in I decided it would be the perfect time to investigate if that area was indeed student parking, and it was. Once parked there, you can walk under a covered portico to get to the main building, or take the parallel outside sidewalk. I chose covered portico and not only did I see one of the biggest, scariest, roach things just sauntering across the walk like it was on its way to class, I also saw the biggest, grossest spider I have ever seen outside of a zoo. It was like in the movies, huge, thick legged - totally gross. It is outside sidewalk for me from now on. I'm just saying, if you are not a bug fan, don't take the covered route.
Next, not all of the campus is disgusting! My Food Service Sanitation class, which is the class I had today, is held in the culinary wing of the school, and it is a whole new world, let me tell you. When I pushed open the doors and walked in it was like the clouds parted and I could hear angels singing "ahhhhhh...." It is clean, it is not packed, it does not look germy or grimy. You know how some cities just look really clean? Like Palm Springs or Scottsdale? The culinary wing is Palm Springs, the main building is downtown L.A. I plan on staying in Palm Springs for every class I possibly can, and those that are not held there I will try to bully the instructor into moving, or perhaps pull a fire alarm or something in the main building forcing us to go to the culinary wing.
Another thing I learned today is that while I have long searched for the perfect diet, meaning one that works, never did I think getting a degree where I will be required to bake things that have a million calories would lead me to permanent weight loss. You see, today, unwittingly, I began the "Food Service Sanitation" diet, or, what those in the biz refer to as let's learn about food borne illnesses and what is practiced in restaurants and at home as opposed to what is supposed to be done to keep us all safe. As my instructor put it so mildly this morning 5 minutes into class "It's a wonder I'm not dead yet." And, this little nugget came out of his mouth as he was dismissing us "I can see you all want to go get something to eat and are wondering where it would be safe." You fill in the blanks. The things I learned today are horrifying! I may never eat again, hence, the diet and permanent weight loss. Oh thank you CSN!
So, there you have it, a very productive day. I'm off to boil some water for dinner.
Another point before I get to what I learned today, for all of you wondering, I am NOT writing this blog because I saw the movie Julie & Julia. I did see the movie, and loved it, especially Meryl Streep and Stanley Tucci, however, I was contemplating writing a blog a long time ago. In fact, the movie made me temporarily decide not to write one for fear of being unoriginal, but then I said screw it and am writing it anyway. I bring this up because my sister-in-law called me the other day to ask if I am doing this because of the movie, which, I have made clear, I am not! But, whatever!
So back to what I learned at school today. First of all, parking. At the main campus of CSN it seems everyone tries to park in this main lot and it is crowded, almost impossible to find a spot. If you veer left there is another parking lot and it was a snap to get a spot today, and even though I was 5 minutes late for class already when I pulled in I decided it would be the perfect time to investigate if that area was indeed student parking, and it was. Once parked there, you can walk under a covered portico to get to the main building, or take the parallel outside sidewalk. I chose covered portico and not only did I see one of the biggest, scariest, roach things just sauntering across the walk like it was on its way to class, I also saw the biggest, grossest spider I have ever seen outside of a zoo. It was like in the movies, huge, thick legged - totally gross. It is outside sidewalk for me from now on. I'm just saying, if you are not a bug fan, don't take the covered route.
Next, not all of the campus is disgusting! My Food Service Sanitation class, which is the class I had today, is held in the culinary wing of the school, and it is a whole new world, let me tell you. When I pushed open the doors and walked in it was like the clouds parted and I could hear angels singing "ahhhhhh...." It is clean, it is not packed, it does not look germy or grimy. You know how some cities just look really clean? Like Palm Springs or Scottsdale? The culinary wing is Palm Springs, the main building is downtown L.A. I plan on staying in Palm Springs for every class I possibly can, and those that are not held there I will try to bully the instructor into moving, or perhaps pull a fire alarm or something in the main building forcing us to go to the culinary wing.
Another thing I learned today is that while I have long searched for the perfect diet, meaning one that works, never did I think getting a degree where I will be required to bake things that have a million calories would lead me to permanent weight loss. You see, today, unwittingly, I began the "Food Service Sanitation" diet, or, what those in the biz refer to as let's learn about food borne illnesses and what is practiced in restaurants and at home as opposed to what is supposed to be done to keep us all safe. As my instructor put it so mildly this morning 5 minutes into class "It's a wonder I'm not dead yet." And, this little nugget came out of his mouth as he was dismissing us "I can see you all want to go get something to eat and are wondering where it would be safe." You fill in the blanks. The things I learned today are horrifying! I may never eat again, hence, the diet and permanent weight loss. Oh thank you CSN!
So, there you have it, a very productive day. I'm off to boil some water for dinner.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Read 4 Chapters and Call Me in the Morning
As promised, here is my post about MY FIST DAY OF SCHOOL!
Well, it was, for lack of a better word, interesting. Ouch! I expected it would be something but I didn't expect interesting, as in this is not the really good interesting it is kind of the interesting you say when you cannot think of a word to describe what something is, and all you can think of is an unenthusiastic interesting. I went through a multitude of feelings from boredom to exhilaration. One minute I was exhilarated by the learning environment and the possibilities it presents, the next I was eewww-ing at the fingerprint smudged glass doors. I'm not great with crowds of people and all their dirty germy fingerprints. I realize from this comment you can tell I am an older returning student. I have never heard anyone under the age of 39 express concern over touching doors that everyone else is touching therefore acquiring germs that could potentially belong to a very sick uncle or a cleaning lady that does not wash her hands after she cleans your toilet.
Anyway, Mondays I have a 3 hour class, centering around the hospitality industry. I spent the entire class wondering at every pause if I was indeed supposed to be in this particular class. Had I mis-read my degree requirements? This class has nothing to do with food preparation. I do see it may be a good idea to understand hospitality as a whole, yet, the instructor informed me, after making us all get up and write on the board what we know about hospitality and what we were there for, that no, this class would not discuss much if anything about baking or Pastry Arts. It would, she continued, have a section which she will cover running a restaurant and planning and purchasing, which would be good for anyone that had an entrepreneurial spirit. She did not stop to find out if I fit in that category.
After class, I heard others talking about how they had 2 more classes that day, and/or classes tomorrow and I was grateful that I have only 1 long class Mondays (well, not so grateful for the "long" part) and 1 even longer one on Wednesdays. How do people do it? My mind already feels like it is going to snap after 3 hours. We covered 2 chapters today, and did a review at the end, and I could not for the life of me recall 90% of what we just talked about in class. I was transported back to a time where I had to slump down in my desk and pray that the teacher would not call on me to answer a question as the night before I had chucked homework duty for the opportunity to go to Swenson's for my favorite cinnamon ice cream and a game of Ms. Pac-Man, and the extra added bonus of watching the cutest guy in school scoop double dips while dressed in a short sleeve old fashioned soda fountain servers shirt.
My other class is Food Service Sanitation. I got the book, and it's like my own little private train wreck. I am fascinated and want to open that book and take it all in, and I am repelled as I know it will cover things that make my diatribe about germy unsanitary glass doors with zillions of grimy mostly young people fingerprints on it look like a walk through a Clorox bleach corporate plant. Neurotic? You bet I am!
So, not as auspicious as I would have thought, but this day, my first, is over, and I am glad. I am now an established student. I'll let you know how THAT goes...
Well, it was, for lack of a better word, interesting. Ouch! I expected it would be something but I didn't expect interesting, as in this is not the really good interesting it is kind of the interesting you say when you cannot think of a word to describe what something is, and all you can think of is an unenthusiastic interesting. I went through a multitude of feelings from boredom to exhilaration. One minute I was exhilarated by the learning environment and the possibilities it presents, the next I was eewww-ing at the fingerprint smudged glass doors. I'm not great with crowds of people and all their dirty germy fingerprints. I realize from this comment you can tell I am an older returning student. I have never heard anyone under the age of 39 express concern over touching doors that everyone else is touching therefore acquiring germs that could potentially belong to a very sick uncle or a cleaning lady that does not wash her hands after she cleans your toilet.
Anyway, Mondays I have a 3 hour class, centering around the hospitality industry. I spent the entire class wondering at every pause if I was indeed supposed to be in this particular class. Had I mis-read my degree requirements? This class has nothing to do with food preparation. I do see it may be a good idea to understand hospitality as a whole, yet, the instructor informed me, after making us all get up and write on the board what we know about hospitality and what we were there for, that no, this class would not discuss much if anything about baking or Pastry Arts. It would, she continued, have a section which she will cover running a restaurant and planning and purchasing, which would be good for anyone that had an entrepreneurial spirit. She did not stop to find out if I fit in that category.
After class, I heard others talking about how they had 2 more classes that day, and/or classes tomorrow and I was grateful that I have only 1 long class Mondays (well, not so grateful for the "long" part) and 1 even longer one on Wednesdays. How do people do it? My mind already feels like it is going to snap after 3 hours. We covered 2 chapters today, and did a review at the end, and I could not for the life of me recall 90% of what we just talked about in class. I was transported back to a time where I had to slump down in my desk and pray that the teacher would not call on me to answer a question as the night before I had chucked homework duty for the opportunity to go to Swenson's for my favorite cinnamon ice cream and a game of Ms. Pac-Man, and the extra added bonus of watching the cutest guy in school scoop double dips while dressed in a short sleeve old fashioned soda fountain servers shirt.
My other class is Food Service Sanitation. I got the book, and it's like my own little private train wreck. I am fascinated and want to open that book and take it all in, and I am repelled as I know it will cover things that make my diatribe about germy unsanitary glass doors with zillions of grimy mostly young people fingerprints on it look like a walk through a Clorox bleach corporate plant. Neurotic? You bet I am!
So, not as auspicious as I would have thought, but this day, my first, is over, and I am glad. I am now an established student. I'll let you know how THAT goes...
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Follow Your Dreams
Well, the big day is almost here. I start school tomorrow! We will see what the day brings and I will write all about it when I get home.
You know, the other night I invited my sister, niece and nephew for dinner, because it was a rare night that both my kids were home so all of us could be together. See what happens when they grow up, you have to schedule dinners with them even when they still live with you! So I planned and made an entire meal all myself from salad to dessert. It was all edible! There were no leftovers so I know when everyone said it was good, it WAS good! I made a hearts of romaine salad with homemade mustard vinaigrette, pork tenderloin, roasted potatoes, and a peanut butter cake with chocolate peanut butter ganache. I rarely, actually, I think I can accurately say never, cook an entire dinner myself. Usually even if I plan to after a short time I lose patience and/or ability to execute and I end up asking my husband for help. I don't take ADD meds but I guess something made me focus that night. My husband was surprised, I could tell, that I didn't ask for a rescue. He actually enjoys cooking, and he likes being able to make dinner for family. Anyway, I am rambling, I'm tired, one of the dogs woke us up at about 4:30 this morning. So the point, I thought of the pork tenderloin recipe myself, I marinated it in lime for one hour then rolled it in barbecue sauce and pork rub and baked it. I took white creamer potatoes and cut them in chunks, tossed them in olive oil and salt, pepper, shallots, onion, garlic and a 12 spice seasoning from Trader's. The cake was amazing! Pic is above.
My nephew then asked me and my sister if we would bake for his office. My sister was to make cookies, her specialty, and I would make muffins or mini cakes, my perceived specialty! We decided we would do it this morning and my nephew could take the baked goods to work with him tomorrow. My sis woke up not feeling well, so I was on my own in my kitchen and started baking about 10AM. By the time I was done I was almost in tears, my kitchen looked like a tornado had come through it, and out of 44 mini cakes I baked I had 16 that I liked enough to give to him to take to work. 8 peanut butter cup with chocolate peanut butter ganache (pictured here above the cake I made for the family dinner) and 8 cookies and cream with dark chocolate cookie ganache (not pictured here as I don't like the way they look at all and I have not grown THAT much to show you but give me time.) Sometimes things don't work out the way I planned, and I need to figure out a way to deal with that which doesn't include crankiness and annoyance.
So, this all got me to thinking about people that expect excellence and how they are perceived. I think I can count myself in that category. One of my sons is becoming a tattoo artist, his apprenticeship is done soon. He tattoos now, but is not licensed quite yet. He is an AMAZING artist! I've mentioned it before I believe. He's been drawing since he was 3. He wants to be the best at what he does. He is really hard on himself, a perfectionist. Wonder where that comes from? I have learned from him what tattoos are supposed to be like. I never appreciated them that much. Now I do. This morning I was in line at Starbucks behind a guy with a really large tattoo on his arm, critiquing it in my mind. I wondered if the lines were supposed to be that heavy. They were straight, but thick. I had to stop myself from asking him if the artist meant them to be that way. Tattoo lines should be thin, and constant, and straight in most instances, of course, depending on the design. If a line is thick, it may mean the artist had unintentional hatch marks, and had to go over it to straighten it or get it to be consistent. I have become a fan of the show L.A. Ink, and Kat Von D is, in my opinion, a crazy perfectionist control freak. I mean this in a kind of good way, stay with me. She REALLY cares about what she does. And, I can relate. She is looked at as kind of a bitch, I think, and I can relate. But really, she wants to do a great job and it matters to her that she does accomplish that. Maybe there is a more PC way to get there, but , she is who she is and I have a respect for her integrity.
I was involved in a small business as a co-owner, and it had nothing to do with baking! I was a lot like Kat. I learned a lot of lessons from it, namely, I can care and want nothing less than the best, however, I can also soften up my approach and my expectations, or at least communicate them differently as most people are not as intense about it as I am. Then again, I am who I am. So today, when things didn't go exactly the way I wanted them to in the kitchen with my baking, I got a bit bent out of shape. I didn't want anything but perfect cakes going out there. Now mind you, I am a beginner. They tasted good, but they did not look as I wanted them to. You can be the judge, look at the pics.
Point is, I am going to follow my dream to bake. My baking may not turn out perfectly every time. I can adjust a recipe, and that is actually half the fun, figuring it out. I have already learned I love to bake from scratch, and tweak recipes. Doing it for others and having them eat and enjoy is satisfying, and it makes people happy. And I pledge, I will strive to be the best but if I'm not I will be okay with that, too. Well, maybe.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
It's All About Boston Baby
This is kinda weird in a roundabout way but I had lunch the other day with a girlfriend of mine, and she was telling me she met a gentleman on a dating site and he lives in Boston, and he would be coming here this week to visit her. That very day, my husband and I sat down and watched Chef vs. City for the first time, and guess where they were? Yep, BOSTON! And of course, one of the challenges centered around Boston Cream Pie. I really like BCP, but hadn't had a piece in about 15 years, so, I decided to try to make it.
I found a recipe that required me to make a chocolate ganache and the custard cream myself. I wasn't sure how this would turn out, I've never made anything like this before. Frankly, the pie tasted really good, however, I do think I will be able to make it better next time. The custard cream was not as fluffy as I would have liked and the cake was not as light. I had issues getting my egg whites to form stiff peaks...hmmm, have to work on that technique! But, just in case you doubt my abilities I have a pic of the BCP as proof, it looks pretty good, right?
BTW, can you say GEEK! 4 more days and I start school. I printed my schedule, my notebook is stocked with paper, pencils and pens, I'm ready! I'll be sure to write Monday afternoon to let you know how it went my first day.
If you feel like taking the Boston Cream Pie challenge here is the recipe:
Ingredients
- 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons sifted cake
flour
- 2/3 cup sugar
- 1 1/2 teaspoons baking
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 1/2 cup milk
- 1/4 cup cooking oil
- 2 egg
- 1 teaspoon vanilla
- 2 egg whites
- 1/4 teaspoon cream
- Pastry cream, recipe follows
- Ganache, recipe follows
Pastry Cream Filling:
- 2 cups whole, 2 percent fat, or 1 percent fat milk
- 1/2 vanilla bean, split lengthwise, seeds scraped out
- 6 egg yolks
- 2/3 cup granulated sugar
- 1/4 cup cornstarch
- 1 tablespoon unsalted butter
Ganache:
- 8 ounces semisweet chocolate
- 1 cup heavy cream, boiling
Directions
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a medium mixing bowl combine flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Make a well in the center of the flour mixture. Add milk, oil, egg yolks, and vanilla. Beat with an electric mixer on low to medium speed until combined. Beat an additional 3 minutes on high speed and set aside.
In a large mixing bowl, beat egg whites and cream of tartar on medium to high speed until soft peaks form. Pour the egg yolk mixture over the egg white mixture and fold in. Gently pour the batter into a 9-inch greased pie pan. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes or until the top springs back when lightly touched. Invert the pan onto a wire rack, then remove from pan after about 10 minutes. Cool completely.
Pastry Cream Filling: In a medium saucepan, heat the milk and vanilla bean to a boil over medium heat. Immediately turn off the heat and set aside to infuse for 10 to 15 minutes. In a bowl, whisk the egg yolks and granulated sugar until light and fluffy. Add the cornstarch and whisk vigorously until no lumps remain. Whisk in 1/4 cup of the hot milk mixture until incorporated. Whisk in the remaining hot milk mixture, reserving the empty saucepan.
Pour the mixture through a strainer back into the saucepan. Cook over medium-high heat, whisking constantly, until thickened and slowly boiling. Remove from the heat and stir in the butter. Let cool slightly. Cover with plastic wrap, lightly pressing the plastic against the surface to prevent a skin from forming. Chill at least 2 hours or until ready to serve. (The custard can be made up to 24 hours in advance. Refrigerate until 1 hour before using.)
Ganache: In a medium bowl, pour the boiling cream over the chopped chocolate and stir until melted. Let cool and thicken about 20 minutes before pouring over pie.
To assemble pie, cut the cake in half horizontally. Place bottom layer on a serving plate or board, and spread with the pastry cream. Top with second cake layer. Pour chocolate ganache over and down the sides of the cake. Store in refrigerator.
Let me know how yours turns out!
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Holy Matrimony
I start school a week from tomorrow and you know what? I am nervous. Really nervous, I'm excited, too, but mostly nervous, which is not typical for me. Not that I've ever been in this exact set of circumstances before, but, I'm surprised nonetheless. I am having second, third and fourth thoughts. I will go to school, I have no doubts, but, all these thoughts are churning around in my head like fresh butter. Will I be the oldest person on campus? What makes me think I can compete with people that have been baking for a living for years?
So, I went right to the voice of reason this morning, my husband. Because (close your eyes and plug your ears hon) in times like these he is almost always the "r" word, or, for those of you not in a relationship, right. He quickly pointed out that even if I start baking professionally at 50, which is pretty likely how old I'll be once I finish school, and I do it for 20 years, and I am doing what I love, what is wrong with that? Well, nothing. But then why am I still more nervous to go to school than I was when I got married?
I realize the prevailing theme right now is more of the "what the hell am I doing?" variety, so, I'm going to list out my reasons why going to school for a Pastry Arts degree is a fabulous idea:
1. I will be a better student now than I was upper 20 something years ago, I want all A's. I'm now extremely competitive and actually really, really care that I do well. When I was in school before if I was more interested in not repeating the same outfit twice than in actually being a good student and getting good grades. You know what they say about wasted youth, well, poster child right here.
2. Since I HAVEN'T been in the kitchen at my mother's apron strings since I was little, I am a fresh slate and have no preconceived notions or ideals that my way is better...so, my professors will love shaping clay-like mold-able me!
3. I get to buy new shoes as I don't currently own even one pair of black stay-puff marshmallow orthopedic non-slips as part of my shoe collection at the moment.
4. I won't spend needless time in the morning having to do my hair, it will be under one of those floppy bakers caps.
5. Let's not even talk about not needing to come up with what to wear. The dreaded uniform of a chef - although in my book this may not be a plus I guess it is in 99.9% of most people's life, so I'm going to count it as one as well.
Okay, I feel better now. Off to Target for school supplies!
So, I went right to the voice of reason this morning, my husband. Because (close your eyes and plug your ears hon) in times like these he is almost always the "r" word, or, for those of you not in a relationship, right. He quickly pointed out that even if I start baking professionally at 50, which is pretty likely how old I'll be once I finish school, and I do it for 20 years, and I am doing what I love, what is wrong with that? Well, nothing. But then why am I still more nervous to go to school than I was when I got married?
I realize the prevailing theme right now is more of the "what the hell am I doing?" variety, so, I'm going to list out my reasons why going to school for a Pastry Arts degree is a fabulous idea:
1. I will be a better student now than I was upper 20 something years ago, I want all A's. I'm now extremely competitive and actually really, really care that I do well. When I was in school before if I was more interested in not repeating the same outfit twice than in actually being a good student and getting good grades. You know what they say about wasted youth, well, poster child right here.
2. Since I HAVEN'T been in the kitchen at my mother's apron strings since I was little, I am a fresh slate and have no preconceived notions or ideals that my way is better...so, my professors will love shaping clay-like mold-able me!
3. I get to buy new shoes as I don't currently own even one pair of black stay-puff marshmallow orthopedic non-slips as part of my shoe collection at the moment.
4. I won't spend needless time in the morning having to do my hair, it will be under one of those floppy bakers caps.
5. Let's not even talk about not needing to come up with what to wear. The dreaded uniform of a chef - although in my book this may not be a plus I guess it is in 99.9% of most people's life, so I'm going to count it as one as well.
Okay, I feel better now. Off to Target for school supplies!
Thursday, August 20, 2009
TV or not TV
I realize that my readership is somewhere between 1 and 3 people - me, my husband and one of my sister (thanks, love you guys!) so no one else may ever see that I am about to say something that most people don't like to admit to. I love TV. Specifically, although I do watch a few "regular" shows, I love reality TV. The list of shows I DVR is longer than the Mississippi if you stack them end to end. Yes, I've heard TV rots your brain, but really, can't TV be a good thing too? I think so. And I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say I think it can be downright inspirational.
Case in point, I have never seen an episode of So You Think You Can Dance that did not make me cry. When an un-trained b boy does a contemporary routine or a ballroom dancer tackles hip hop and does it well, and the judges give them positive feedback, how can that NOT be amazing?! Even Flipping Out, which centers around a not so lovable control freak, Jeff Lewis, makes me think, wow, look at what he is accomplishing. Watching Jeff meltdown or bark his fast food lunch requirements to his assistant is one thing, yet on the other hand, watching him make smart business decisions and maneuver a new approach to his business, flipping houses, which was grossly affected by the downturn of the economy, is another. And, if it weren't for shows like Top Chef and The Next Food Network Star, I wouldn't know an amuse bouche or duck confit from a french fry. Inspirational AND educational!
So, what does this all have to do with my blog and upcoming school-dom? As cliche as it sounds, life is meant to be lived, in whatever way we see fit. For some that means in front of a camera. For me that means being one of the older students on campus, going back to school to try to accomplish something most others in the culinary field have been doing naturally since they were old enough to crawl to the kitchen. Well, me and my walker say, bring it on! Did I mention I'm going to school with my 19 year old son?
That's a story for another day.
Case in point, I have never seen an episode of So You Think You Can Dance that did not make me cry. When an un-trained b boy does a contemporary routine or a ballroom dancer tackles hip hop and does it well, and the judges give them positive feedback, how can that NOT be amazing?! Even Flipping Out, which centers around a not so lovable control freak, Jeff Lewis, makes me think, wow, look at what he is accomplishing. Watching Jeff meltdown or bark his fast food lunch requirements to his assistant is one thing, yet on the other hand, watching him make smart business decisions and maneuver a new approach to his business, flipping houses, which was grossly affected by the downturn of the economy, is another. And, if it weren't for shows like Top Chef and The Next Food Network Star, I wouldn't know an amuse bouche or duck confit from a french fry. Inspirational AND educational!
So, what does this all have to do with my blog and upcoming school-dom? As cliche as it sounds, life is meant to be lived, in whatever way we see fit. For some that means in front of a camera. For me that means being one of the older students on campus, going back to school to try to accomplish something most others in the culinary field have been doing naturally since they were old enough to crawl to the kitchen. Well, me and my walker say, bring it on! Did I mention I'm going to school with my 19 year old son?
That's a story for another day.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
A Little Class Goes a Long Way
I know I've mentioned I don't start school for a few weeks, however, I am practically a professional kitchen aficionado already. My initial brush with culinary greatness came to a crashing stall earlier this summer, exactly 4.5 hours into my very first class, Basic Cookery. That is the moment my husband, who doesn't wear pants unless he absolutely has to, shot a panicked look at me from our attached off-kilter chair/desk contraption thingy and I knew it was over, temporarily. If he got up and I did not, I'd go crashing to the floor like I did when Susie E. (full name not divulged to protect the not so innocent) decided she'd rather go on the merry go round with David B. then support her best friend in keeping all the skin on her knees intact. I'm not saying my husband walks around naked in public or anything, he just prefers cargo shorts, even in winter, although we do live in the desert. I have a feeling even if we lived in Alaska his fashion choices would remain status quo.
Now, I'm not sure why neither of us realized we were actually IN culinary school, maybe because it is at the Community College. Between the two of us, a potentially over-educated non-pants wearing teacher, the other mildly intelligent, you'd think one would have a clue as to what Basic Cookery entailed. Did we think we'd be learning knife cuts out of a book? The college catalog was vague at best people, would you understand that this:
"Introduction to culinary fundamentals, techniques and skills of modern cookery. Class covers procedures, ingredients and cooking theories"
means ACTUAL cooking, kitchen, sanitary dish-washing class? So, when our professor, Chef Acosta, started touring the class around the Top Chef wanna be professional kitchen, I think we both realized this was getting serious. I was, although not expressing it, already having second thoughts about doing this class right now this summer, and my out came when Chef Acosta invited another Chef in to speak to the class after our tour to tell us about knives and the uniform. Now, I have always had issues with required garment wearing. I'm not sure why, but on corporate T-shirt Fridays I would break out in hives. I never worked fast food, instead opting to go into retail, just to avoid being a polyester look-alike. My parents wanted me to apply to Hot Dog on a Stick, because those girls made 2 whole dollars above minimum wage. Of course they did, who else would don a 3 foot high hat and bounce up and down making lemonade in yellow and red stripes? But even so, I was already thinking about scanning the Crocs website for cuter chef shoes than the ones that come with the student uniform. So I WAS gonna go with it, although I did ask if I could buy solid black pants instead of the checkered ones. For those of you out there wondering, solid black is for the actual Chef, not a student.
Just as my husband realized he would not be able to pair his chef jacket with shorts, we were given a 15 minute break. Both of us picked up our bags, went out to the hall, and began walking toward the Registrar's office. I knew exactly what he was thinking "no way am I putting on pants this summer." And me, I was just thrilled to have more time to prepare myself before I have to break down a chicken.
So does anyone know if the chef hat comes in paisley?
Now, I'm not sure why neither of us realized we were actually IN culinary school, maybe because it is at the Community College. Between the two of us, a potentially over-educated non-pants wearing teacher, the other mildly intelligent, you'd think one would have a clue as to what Basic Cookery entailed. Did we think we'd be learning knife cuts out of a book? The college catalog was vague at best people, would you understand that this:
"Introduction to culinary fundamentals, techniques and skills of modern cookery. Class covers procedures, ingredients and cooking theories"
means ACTUAL cooking, kitchen, sanitary dish-washing class? So, when our professor, Chef Acosta, started touring the class around the Top Chef wanna be professional kitchen, I think we both realized this was getting serious. I was, although not expressing it, already having second thoughts about doing this class right now this summer, and my out came when Chef Acosta invited another Chef in to speak to the class after our tour to tell us about knives and the uniform. Now, I have always had issues with required garment wearing. I'm not sure why, but on corporate T-shirt Fridays I would break out in hives. I never worked fast food, instead opting to go into retail, just to avoid being a polyester look-alike. My parents wanted me to apply to Hot Dog on a Stick, because those girls made 2 whole dollars above minimum wage. Of course they did, who else would don a 3 foot high hat and bounce up and down making lemonade in yellow and red stripes? But even so, I was already thinking about scanning the Crocs website for cuter chef shoes than the ones that come with the student uniform. So I WAS gonna go with it, although I did ask if I could buy solid black pants instead of the checkered ones. For those of you out there wondering, solid black is for the actual Chef, not a student.
Just as my husband realized he would not be able to pair his chef jacket with shorts, we were given a 15 minute break. Both of us picked up our bags, went out to the hall, and began walking toward the Registrar's office. I knew exactly what he was thinking "no way am I putting on pants this summer." And me, I was just thrilled to have more time to prepare myself before I have to break down a chicken.
So does anyone know if the chef hat comes in paisley?
Monday, August 17, 2009
Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme
Who: Me - wife, mother, former career woman who failed Home Economics in the 7th grade
What: Writing a blog to chronicle my journey from kitchen catastrophes and extreme food finicky-ness to Pastry Chef
Why:
1.) To honor my mother who could bake like nobody's business
2.) To see if I can follow in her footsteps
3.) To possibly open a bakery with my sisters as we figure one of us should know what we're doing and can pass it on to the other, very sisterly-like
4.) To be able to look back and re-experience the experience
5.) To keep me motivated & committed because getting my Pastry Arts degree could take 2+ years
When: First class is Monday, August 31st, 2009
Where: The Entertainment Capital of the World, Sin City, Adult Disneyland, I just happen to live here
How: Just keep reminding myself someone is gonna have to say "yes Chef!" to ME one day
What: Writing a blog to chronicle my journey from kitchen catastrophes and extreme food finicky-ness to Pastry Chef
Why:
1.) To honor my mother who could bake like nobody's business
2.) To see if I can follow in her footsteps
3.) To possibly open a bakery with my sisters as we figure one of us should know what we're doing and can pass it on to the other, very sisterly-like
4.) To be able to look back and re-experience the experience
5.) To keep me motivated & committed because getting my Pastry Arts degree could take 2+ years
When: First class is Monday, August 31st, 2009
Where: The Entertainment Capital of the World, Sin City, Adult Disneyland, I just happen to live here
How: Just keep reminding myself someone is gonna have to say "yes Chef!" to ME one day
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