Culinary school you depend on each other . If one fails the group, it slows down the process, the rhythm, the dance of every day, in the kitchen. Feels like a romance. The slow beginning prep starts with easy. Then it picks up speed. As the clock ticks, close to a meal hour, you go from holding hands to a dance of frantic proportions. Yelling! Hot! Corner! Knife! This rolling seance of bodies, in time with each other, similar to the touch, naked skin and the sheets, the same hot searing increase, in blood pressure and the food is braised, grilled, each station completed and the rush is over. Till the next one.
One of my best experiences in Culinary school was the Chef. Chef Matt he had a grin on his face that never left. He was cute and tall, athletic. He sang and brought his guitar to class. And the best of all treated me like I was his age and not some old broad, lost and lonely.
Why? I have no idea. But his kindness in flirting with me and so full of energy and good cheer and upeat. I loved it when he would try our food and the many looks on his face!? When I would walk out of the class, his eyes would follow me, and I would turn around and give him the smile, he said he liked. He made my day every day so great!
Sometimes, I would come into the kitchen, and you know how you are in the same path as some one walking toward you, and somebody has to move over. He would grab my hand, and twirl me around, and grab me by the waist and start to dance.