Signed, Sealed, Delivered

You know how you have those moments when it just hits you that life is good? A few days ago, I was driving home from my externship interview and I had a clear remembrance of just such a moment.

It was a Sunday, noonish, mid-summer, 2002, and I was walking from the parking garage by the train tracks to the Jack London Square farmer's market. Strolling along, my empty shopping bag in hand, I phoned my son in San Diego. It being well before midafternoon, and he being a young man in his early 20s, I woke him up with my call. He roused himself sufficiently to converse with me about my brother's late summer wedding in Denver: we'd offered to throw his rehearsal dinner in the backyard of his home, for about sixty-five people.

After I hung up the phone, that's when I had the "moment": a pang of love for my son, my brother, his lovely fianceé, and all our family and friends who would soon be gathering; and excitement and eagerness to plan an event far away from my home, in a strange town and in a strange kitchen. And the sun was shining on the water and on the piles of beautifully ripe fruits and vegetables, and people were milling about, happily shopping, and I felt really, really happy.

So you might understand the way I feel about my externship, a strong confidence that it's the right place for me to be. I'll start work there the week of November 12, further details to be determined, through February 1, at which point I'll be really and truly finished with culinary school. Fortunately, though, there are only 28 more days on which I need to wear the silly hair-destroying hat.

I have to say that my first time experience in a restaurant kitchen was a bit tweaky, and it's my own damn fault. Yesterday, I drove home after seeing the movie "Across the Universe", an over-the-top extravaganza that just oozes with the talent, energy, and creativity of the people who made it and who perform in it. I thought about how this class is like my opportunity to perform, to demonstrate my personal talent, energy, and creativity, and that I should be excited and anxious to show my stuff. And then, when I got to class this morning, the first thing I did was burn the bacon.

It all worked out swell. I took Andy into the "office" (that's the walk-in refrigerator) and asked him how I should prepare myself for the first day on the line in a restaurant kitchen. He said, "Just get everything you need all around you, in case you can't move for two hours. Have clean wet towels. You can do this."

Today, I worked the salad station, what's typically called "pantry" in a commercial restaurant. I plated the Cobb salads, and added the salad garnish to the veal. And when all was said and done, we had two orders for Cobb, and four orders for veal. A little anticlimatic, but now I've done it. There's no going back.