Chef Penny divided up our classroom into groups of four. I was lucky to have Marcus again. Tim had decided cooking wasn’t for him and left school. And we had a new guy. Dylan, who has smoked his joint first thing in the morning. He smells like he has never washed and walks heavily.
Willow in our group had long red hair. The first thing she said to me was she didn’t know about my generation. However, her generation has to shave down there. And it itches like Hell. I told her I was sorry. Cause my generation didn’t seem to have a problem with a Fur Burger. We became instant friends! With at least 30 years of age difference.
And the last one in my group was Leigh. So incredibly talented. She could have been the teacher. And she knew it. She could bake and make anything. I learned so much from her. I know we were the envy of the baking class because of her.
With the trial so close, I didnt have the patience to bake. I never seemed to be able to follow the instructions. My mind literally twisted in knots as each day got closer to trial.
“Baking is based on the science of chemistry. And accurate measuring is important to consistent baking results.” Chef Penny said to the class.
Oh God, help me. Number one, science, chemistry and accuracy are all things i know nothing about. And by now, I had survived the dish pit, and chicken pot pie and making cafeteria sandwiches feeling ever the Lunch Lady.
However, nothing as scary as the size of industry baking equipment. The kitchen floor held enormous industrial mixers. As tall as me that could chop off your arm. A colossal bakery floor, the size of a basketball court.
It all scared me.