One day I conquered one of my biggest fears, just like that. Poof, all gone. And that day was today. 2 weeks ago today I decided to stop screwing around and actually get some real restaurant experience. So I went in and trailed a chef. I did hardly anything. I plated some cheese, washed some dishes, and mostly watched him. Last Tuesday I made my second appearance. After plating more cheese/bread boards, working on knife skills (mincing garlic and the like), and hiding from regular customers, I was given food to eat and a mop to clean the floors with. Then I was told that the 3rd weekend in October he would be gone and it would be my debut as solo chef lady. Uhh shit! I started paying attention and then showed up on Wednesday night to try my hand cooking a thing or two off of that week’s menu.
That was really smart on my part because he was sick tonight. As in can’t work, crazy fever sick. So the owner sent him home and smiled at me. Double shit! I hadn’t even looked at the this week’s menu. Please God don’t let there be seafood. Shrimp and scallops with herbs in broth. Perfect. I hate cooking scallops they’re so easy to screw up. It was only the most expensive thing on his menu. Great.
Since people seemed to only be ordering cheese boards (it’s a wine bar with a tasting menu) I starting rummaging around the fridge. I found about 2 pounds of bacon starting to turn a little off color. So I decided to salvage it and cooked all of it. The problem with that idea was that it smelled like heaven and made people hungry. Then came 3 orders of pork tenderloin, an order of the damn scallops, and a beet/apple salad. To calm my nerves I ate bacon, a lot of bacon. It worked like a charm. I was so subdued from pork fat that I couldn’t be nervous.
The owner told me that even the malevolent French woman smiled for the first time in history. She did smirk beforehand “what iz zhere only one pan in zee kitchen?” Honestly I wasn’t that slow, but maybe I’ll hold off on some of the bacon in a few weeks when I go solo again. And also don’t the French like their meals served in courses and slowly? Perhaps Madame was an imposter. God, I feel really sick right now, but happy I rocked my first service.