When I was filling out my paperwork before even coming to the CIA the date June 17th 2011 meant almost nothing to me. It was over two years away. And it was, at that point, to be only a half way mark of my time here in beautiful Hyde Park, NY. But for the past few months, the date June 17th has been a beacon of hope, and at the same time a stress compounding reminder that in less than a month, I need to be working. It is soon... oh so soon.
Three more dinner services in the E Room are all that separate me from three weeks of smooth sailing. To say that I am slowly going insane here is an understatement. This monotonous routine that I have built up goes a little something like this. Wake up at noon.Lay in bed until it's time to get ready for class. Get to the kitchen at 1 15 to help check in the food order. Lecture for an hour. Clean lettuce. Fry capers. Make crostini. Roast/clean/slice/cut beets. Eat a few bites of a shitty family meal. Take out garbage. Pre-service bathroom break. Slice foie, plate salads, for three hours. Hurry and try and clean the damn kitchen as fast as possible so I can go back to my room, shower, and try and get something to eat. Hang out and drink beer until three in the morning. Go back to my room. Screw around on the internet. Fall asleep around 4 or 5. Repeat.
I got to make a big batch of pate yesterday which was a plus, but other than that I'm not really having fun or learning a ton in Escoffier. I spent the better part of the summer running a similar station at L'Etoile. I had three more dishes there, each more complex than the ones I have here, and I was on my own. At school I have a partner... Taylor, who makes the days even more interesting with his never ending sass.
I am ready to move on to my next challenge. A new adventure. I'm over school. Hopefully I'll be able to get a job soon, but I can understand why people would be hesitant to hire a kid who wants to be a butcher, but the only thing worthwhile he's got on a resume is five months of charcuterie experience at a restaurant in Wisconsin. If by June seventeenth I do not have a job offer, I have a plan. I'll go home to Indiana for a week or two, then go to Chicago for a few days, live on my sister's floor, and roam around the city, with my knives, a resume, and a pep in my step. Hopefully they'll see things then that they can't possibly see on a paper resume. They'll see that I am bat shit crazy for all things pork. They'll see that I can learn quickly, and they'll see that I will do anything for an opportunity to spend my days elbow deep in pig.