Mini Mik Monday (Culinary School)



This morning started at 6 am. Yes, you heard me correctly 6 am in the mother trucking morning. I cant even begin to recall the last time my lazy ass rolled out of be that early and oh goodness was it a chore.The sun wasn’t even up yet, that should be a sure sign that no movement should be happening that early. Any-who, miracles of miracles I was able to rise and get myself to class. I have two other pupils starting culinary school with me, A boy named Adam, He is a Star Wars Guru, and not a fun one either. Just one that sits in his parents basement eating cheese puffs. I tried to carry a conversations but he only responded in a foreign language my intelligence or species could not comprehend. The other is female and I already forgot her name, Though I believe it starts with “J” I was too focused on R2D2 and cracking open his language that I spaced out on contact with her. We learned an immense amount of information, I felt so dumb.

A- Because R2D2 was baffling me with the science of light savers and

B- Because every word that came out of my instructors mouth was french

Now if I am not mistaken I am not fluent in the Paris language of love nor did I know that literally ALL culinary terms are fancied up in french. We moved fast, I gained minuscule amounts of information and produced only 2 cups of homemade mayonnaise by the end of the day. Have I ever mentioned I HATE mayonnaise. I am baffled and overwhelmed obviously. I just made a commitment of two years and we all know how much I loath that foreign word. But I get to retry all over again tomorrow and I do believe it would be wise to purchase the following titles “French for dummies”, and “Star Wars for dummies” Both seem to be required in my new line of work and for me to excel from home cooking on the farm to Le professional chef extraordinaire. Oh what a adventure I have embarked on!

May the force be with me…..

JANUARY 9th 2012

Today Tragedy struck….

It all began when I was instructed to make thousand island dressing. Things were going so very swell when I glanced up at the clock while chopping parsley with great speed and look back down to see half of my finger missing. I swiftly fly into action. My pride forbidding me to let anyone know my finger was dismembered. I speed into the bathroom stall and watch hopelessly as my nub of a finger drains blood. I reach for toilet paper hoping to halt the flow. but end up reaching the end of the roll before my finger slows its rapid supply of blood. I hear the head chef yelling because I left my eggs boiling and was nowhere to be seen. I shove my nub along with the toilet paper inside my glove hoping to conceal the mere flesh wound. I got to my eggs. and tend to them carefully. I finish up my dressing and then it hits me! Where is the other end of my finger?! My eyes wander towards the chunky thousand island dressing and I gasp in fear. It would be impossible to decipher my flesh within the chunky sauce. By now my excuse of a bandage has bled through so I rush to retrieve another half ton of toilet paper to disguise the mistake. While I was redressing my finger someone plated my dressing and tucked it away into the fridge. Horror rushes over me, Some poor individual will soon unknowingly be eating a small piece of myself. Defining themselves as a cannibal. How did this happen? How could I possibly inflict such a horrific title onto the poor human being. I left school with my head hung, Finger throbbing, and my heart sobbing silently. But I know what I must do. Tomorrow I will ninja status sneak into the fridge drain the container of its contaminated substance and replace it with and pure and holy specimen as it should have been. And hopefully relieve myself of this burden…….



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