15-33-51

Did you know baking, well, professional baking, revolves around formulas and ratios and a few basic mixing procedures? I didn't. How innocent I was, just thinking I was baking up a batch of simple Toll House cookies. Little did I know how the complicated actions and reactions of ingredients and their ratios to each other were hard at work behind the scenes.

And after attending 2 Baking classes I realize had I known 40 years ago what I know today, I sure would have paid much more attention in Math class. As I've mentioned before, math is not my forte, unless you want to know how much those $95.00 jeans will cost you at a 15% discount. I can do that in my head in under 10 seconds because of my retail days. Need to figure the tip, ask me. I'm a walking tip calculator. But, ask me anything fractional or algebraic or remotely formulaic and I glaze over and start drooling like the village idiot. I don't get math. So, this may pose another slight challenge when trying to adjust a formula for say 24 croissants as opposed to 200. Apparently professional bakers can figure this stuff out at the blink of an eye and not even pull a small pocket calculator out of their tall baking caps.

My Baking teacher terrified me, first by reputation and then in person, the first time I encountered him, which was last week. He is the definition of stern. He does not repeat, he does not take breaks (or so he said, he kindly granted us two of them today) and he does not tolerate any bend, sway or breakage of his kitchen rules. He assigned us 6 chapters to read the first week. He is all about us being responsible for our own learning. Ask questions, there are no dumb ones. Except when we do ask and he thinks it is. Like last week, I could see his wanting his students to participate in class. Truthfully, I don't usually say all that much, as I have enough to do to keep up with the note taking and controlling my mind wandering. But, I decided I would ask a question no matter what, as he wants questions, and I want to be a star student. So I did, and all I could come up with during his explanation about the required absolutely adorable designer chef uniforms (you don't believe that do you?) was to ask if we needed the neckerchief part of our uniform. He practically spat a "YES - IT'S ON THE LIST ISN'T IT VILLAGE IDIOT?" at me. I didn't ask why we need it, but I did have a mind wandering wonder about it. What purpose does a neckerchief have in the bakeshop? I get the chef hat, the pants, non-slip shoes, chef jacket, apron. But a neckerchief? Who even says neckerchief these days. On this past season of Top Chef Mattin wore one, but he is a French guy, so that explains that. It's not like it is going to help you if you sweat, it's around your neck. If I sweat while in the kitchen, it is usually my brow, not my neck, doing the sweating. I'm putting this on record, I'm against the neckerchief. It's purpose-less.

Now aside from the designer duds we have to wear in the kitchen starting next week, we are not allowed to have anything on our nails (goodbye perfectly done Ballerina Slippers manicure) and we are allowed no food or drink in the kitchen. This poses yet another challenge for me, as I eat about every 2 or 3 hours and drink more than a pack of camels do all day by 7 a.m. causing me to go to the bathroom about 3 times an hour. If I detour from my norm, I don't feel all that well. It's what my body is used to. Now, I figure I can get around this by having food and water in my culinary locker. Oh, wait, locker assignments started Tuesday, and when I went to claim mine Wednesday morning, there were none left. I'm number 24 on the waiting list. Plan B - I stuffed a half a peanut butter sandwich in my hoodie pocket and spent the first 3 hours of class uncomfortably shifting in my seat trying to make sure Chef did not see it - it would have caused a Gordon Ramsey if he had. One guy brought in a bottle of water to the bake shop, after being told absolutely no food or drink as of this week, and let's just say the backlash wasn't pretty.

I actually lost sleep last night trying to figure out the whole non-locker logistic. I'm a handbag carrying kind of gal, I am not a carry stuff in my pockets kind of girl, and it really threw me. But, I decided there were much worse inconveniences in the world and I had to suck it up. I did ask Chef if it would be possible to bring in a cooler with snacks, due to the fact I have to eat for medical reasons, and leave it in the Culinary Offices. But not wanting to break rules (there's no sandwich in MY pocket!) before clearing the cooler with him all I could think to do was to have the contraband on me in case of emergency and hide it from him. He glared at me, paused to consider a response, and said "we'll make arrangements." During break one I ran out to my car and scarfed down the now flattened sandwich. To my surprise, Chef poked his head out the door to tell me to come in immediately to see Chef Steve for a locker.

There is a God.