The Peeler named Dull

Congratulations are in order: I have just completed my second day as a professional sous chef! Ok, so I’m not an actual sous chef, but I do work under one, at least I think I do. To be quite honest, I’m not exactly sure what position I hold in my college dining facility. I just mosey on down to the kitchen twice a week for two hours and ask what I’m supposed to do. For the past two days of labor, I have peeled apples for applesauce, peeled carrots for the salad bar, and have peeled and chopped beets for some odd salad that is to be prepared at a later date. It is by no means the glamorous kitchen experience that I had envisioned, but I’ll have to start somewhere…

It has been nice to get back to cooking (though I have yet to grapple with any heating elements, just mainly a dull peeler), but I have discovered that the glamorized, professional kitchen I had seen on Food Network does not really exist on a college campus. There is no bright stainless-steel counter, ample amounts of razor-sharp Japanese imported knives, or a happy-go-lucky four star-chef who would gladly take you aside to explain the difference between chiffonade and julienne. Putting all that aside, what surprised me the most was not the deficiency of enthusiasm or freshly squeezed juice, but the lack of carrying through an entire culinary project. I don’t mind peeling apples as long as I can take those apples and make a pie. I enjoy starting from raw ingredients and completing an entire process, step-by-step, so that when I eat my homemade pie, I know exactly what went into it literally and figuratively. Unfortunately, this process is not feasible or accomplished in my college kitchen. As a result, I have somewhat come to loath peeling and chopping because I can never use my creative flair beyond drawing etchings upon leftover carrot skins.

At dinner tonight (collard greens with chickpeas, salad with Italian vinaigrette, apple, and Boston cream pie), I was telling my friends how I somewhat disliked my job. Like a flash of citrus on the tongue, I realized that for the first time in my life, I had come to abhor a cooking-related task. Gasp! I was a little scared, to say the least and spent the latter portion of the night reflecting on why I had come to such an emotion. Thankfully, I understood that it wasn’t my enthusiasm that had diminished, but my accommodating environment. I need to cook in a place that allows for the entire culmination of a project and not just the stress on one mundane aspect.

My revelation for the day was that I do not want to work in a culinary environment that stresses an assembly-line process. A small restaurant or bakery would be the perfect fit for me as I can cook for a group without having to jeopardize the entire premise of cooking. Such is the plight of the college freshman who has to find such a mouth-wateringly appealing occupation. For now, I will continue the ubiquitous peeling with said dull peeler and will pray to the food gods for a better prospect.