I set about this weekend with nothing to do, and armed with the steely intent to achieve just that. I needed time to relax, kick back and chill the fuck out. Whilst I managed to do very little to stress or tire me, my attempts to expunge any extraneous thoughts from my fragile mind were all in vain. Two things in particular were weighing on respective parts of my mind.
Firstly, I have to decide upon a menu for my end of term exam; to be submitted on Thursday. This means working out a three-course menu that can be cooked from start to finish in three hours, in an order that works. It must be balanced in flavour, texture, colour, weight and ingredients. It should amply demonstrate my range of culinary talents, but most crucially, it must be within the remit of those talents. I am edging closer to my final decision, but it has preoccupied my subconscious mind for most of the weekend. Last night I dreamt I was making omelettes again, like in the technique exam. Mon Dieu!
Whilst various dishes have been cooking away in my subconscious, the tiny part of my brain bold enough to peer above the parapet of consciousness has been thinking about something else. The dreaded F-word. My future.
The truth is I don’t have one beyond three weeks. The course finishes on Friday 11th December.I check out of the cottage on Sunday 13th. I have a car, and enough possessions to fill it. Back in Sussex, I have a 7’ x 8’ storage unit containing the rest. I have neither home nor job, nor the pressing need for either. That makes me lucky, but pensive too. There is a big, big gap, and it needs filling. Sometimes, having freedom of choice makes that choice so much harder.
I’ve spent a lot of time in the kitchen at Ballymaloe. I’ve enjoyed it, and learnt a lot. I’ve been wondering if I shouldn’t maybe stick around and try and get a job. The course feels a bit like learning to drive - you pay someone for lessons, and eventually, you take a test, and they give you a driving licence. Only then do you start learning to drive. It’s the same with cooking. Go on a course, sure. Get a certificate - nice one. Wanna learn to cook? Work in a kitchen. I need to work in a kitchen. Somewhere. Here would be good - I know the people, I know I would learn.
There are two ways of learning. You either find someone who knows how to do it, knows how to teach it, and you get them to teach you. Or, you build a big pile of cash, drop your shoulders, charge right on in there, and learn by your mistakes. I think I will try and blend the two. I can afford to do fuck all for a little while longer, so I think I will hit the road, learning as I go. And then, soon, very soon, I will do the stupid thing.
I want to open a restaurant. Or a pub. Whichever it is will depend on where I am. Come the day, I will need a chef. A great one - probably a crazy one (they usually are). I can't do it myself. I want to blend what I think I know about food with what I think I know about running a business. I want to build a mousetrap, and will need someone to make the cheese. Before that happens, first I must learn everything there is to know about cheese. I may as well start tomorrow.
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