I love to cook. It might be obvious from the fact that I actually take the time to write about the act. I cook all the time, but I have never had a job in a professional kitchen. I read books and blogs about professional kitchens, I occasionally get to meet the chef in a really groovy restaurant,
but I don’t cook for a living.
Last night I got a tiny taste of what it might feel like to work the line.
My friend Claudia had procured some steaks from an Italian heritage breed and had planned a dinner party to see how they rated. She invited me to dinner along with 8 other guest. She let me know she would like a little help with the meal and I was happy to help. She was also excited about some of the pork products produced from the trip to the farm.
On the appointed day I gathered up my dishes: pork liver terrine, blood sausages, and pizza dough, packed my apron and hopped in the truck.
When I arrived there were so many things to get done. Unpack steaks, trim artichokes, plate the terrine, preheat the ovens. Nothing too difficult but time was pressing. People would be arriving soon.
I am not going to detail out every step of the night but I had a blast shaping pizza dough, prepping the chokes, slicing various and sundry meats. It was quick and lively, people swirling around the kitchen, chatting and laughing.
A big highlight of the night for me was praise from a culinary professional. My blood sausage was a hit even though I was a bit apprehensive about how it turned out. The pizza dough, straight off of foodnetwork.com had fans. The terrine was attacked with relish.
The absolute best part of the night was seeing everyone dig in and eat, and eat and eat. The round of applause was a little embarrassing but heartwarming.
I was, by the end of the night, thoroughly exhausted, stuffed and exhilarated. A great time was had by everyone. Thanks for inviting me Claudia, and thanks to everyone else for all the kind words.