I am freaking out right now. I am not sure why RIGHT NOW is the time this is all hitting, I mean, really hitting. I am two weeks from being done with school. You all know this because I, surprisingly, can't stop talking about it. On Monday I made my first step to becoming a chef. I went to Barnes and Noble and I bought myself a notebook. This notebook is dedicated to writing down my every culinary whim. Ideas of things to try. Notes on really good food I have eaten. A culinary journal, if you will. It is also the beginning of my recipe testing. The boy in his nerdy wonder is going to design me an online database to log all of this. In two weeks I get to start the journey that is becoming a chef. I get to develop my own recipes in my own kitchen. I get to cook my own food with my own twist. I get to cook what I want to cook.
No offense culinary school, but I am mother fucking sick of French food. I want some curry! I want habanero peppers. I want avocado and yucca. If you have never sliced a yucca (or cassava) on a mandolin and deep fried it, you have never lived. And, oh, while you are at it, let me develop a bad ass dipping sauce for that.
I texted Big Jed and said I was food geeking out. More like food fucking flipping out. I love it. I love all the ideas in my head and the excitement I feel to finally have time to explore them.
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3 comments:
And Big Jed said that she peed a little. And crapped her pants. Because she's pretty.
I expect nothing less than loss of bladder/bowel control. In fact, anyone who does not wet/shit themselves when reading this post is not really my friend.
Adult diapers for everyone!
I fully endorse the product known as "Oops I Crapped My Pants."
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