There is something fascinating about watching people conduct themselves around the kitchen. The environment strips things bare - little nuances and characteristics, impossible to conceal amidst the hive of activity, reveal themselves. In time, themes emerge, things people share with others; categories. Now, any exercise whose stated aim is to group people according to broad criteria has, by definition, already failed. Just to prove it, here is my doomed list of six types of people one might expect to find at Ballymaloe Cookery School:
The Don’t Give a Shits
The course costs €10,000. For some of the people here, this was their money. They are excluded from this category. Any of them that pretend they don’t give a shit are either lying or a lot richer than me. There are some amongst the others who simply don’t give a shit - the guys who leave halfway through demo or don’t read their recipes. They can’t give a shit. It is not possible. They make the place ugly and take the places of people who couldn’t get on the course but would have given a shit.
The Stupid People
They undercook things, they overcook things. They weigh things incorrectly and don’t notice. They leave hot pans lying around and knives in sinks. They don’t know which vegetables are which. They don’t know how many grams there are in an ounce (or some of them a kilogram for that matter.) They’re not really passionate about food. They burn things. (I have a toe dipped in this category - I can’t differentiate between mizuna and a mustard green and I add double quantities of liquids to recipes.) They are not necessarily always stupid, but they have dangerous potential.
The Inconsiderate People
They don't wash up. They leave their shit everywhere for other people to deal with. Many of them Don't Give a Shit, and most of them are Stupid People.
The Worrriers
Kitchen worriers have a vein of perfectionism running through them - they don’t want to fuck up. Actually its more than that - they are afraid of fucking up. Me, I don’t want to fuck up, but usually it’s the quickest way to learn. Be bold and brave and learn from your mistakes. The worriers are constantly questioning themselves. Some of them are quite open about it, others paper it over with bravado, or worse, pretend they Don’t Give a Shit. Others are actually very good cooks.
The Nearly Men
They know and understand food. They want to learn more; they ask questions, take notes. But they are not experienced or composed enough to quite make the grade. Some of them improve, some of them don’t. Some of them will improve all the way. Those that want to will probably make a decent living out of cooking. This is my category: the 2.1 brigade.
The Professionals
There are some people on this course who really can cook. They are calm, confident and controlled. They are in early and they finish on time. They follow their recipes. They handle ingredients and equipment with assured ease. They season things properly and they present their dishes with panache. Almost every day, whizzing around in a great panic trying to bring your courses together, pan in one hand, pyrex in the other, looking for the plate you put down somewhere, you will see them - adding a final delicate garnish to a perfect looking dish. The bastards.
It’s right that the categories should not be defined solely by prowess. I remember on my very first day in the kitchen watching one of the girls chopping. The knife looked so unnatural in her hand, like it was sticking out of her arm. I seriously questioned if she had ever held one before. This shiny new blade, jabbing and prodding around an onion like an out of control lawnmower. But watch her now. Edward Scissorhands might not be shitting himself just yet, but she looks confident and composed. And all in six measly little weeks.
I look at myself. Am I a better cook now than I was six weeks ago? Probably, but I don’t really see or believe it. The problem with being one of The Nearly Men is that to improve - to jump up, you have to clear the highest bar. You have to be in control all the time. You have to exude the crisp swagger of someone who doesn’t doubt for a second that they know what they’re doing.
I got in early today and made up a white yeast dough. While it was resting I knocked up pastry for my apple tarts. I got beans on the go for my winter vegetable soup and prepped all my veg. I kneaded my dough for a good fifteen minutes. I made it pretty wet - fortune favours the brave. My soup was good, but it needed more salt. I am reticent about adding salt at the moment - I need to be bolder and stop pussying about. The apple tarts were great. They have to caramelise without burning, and most people’s went too far. (I walked past one of The Professionals. Her apple tarts looked like mine.) When all the ovens were empty I put my bread in. The loaves looked nice - no stretch marks this time and a lovely even bake. When I got home I cut myself a slice. The best bread I have ever made in my life by a long, long way. Maybe, just maybe, I could be a contender.
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