Well,
the first 3 weeks of school are over, and so is the "culinary" portion of my education. Thank goodness. It was fun to learn how to cut up a whole chicken, and how to make the "mother" sauces, and all that good stuff. But that's not why I'm there. We've had our hands in dough the past two days, and boy, does it feel good. I'm remembering the reasons I enrolled. I remember that "zen" feeling I get when the table is covered with flour, and I find myself humming as I gather my mise en place.
And boy oh boy! We start off with a bang! 3-4 recipes a day--we get a demo and then we have to get cooking. We're getting a general overview of baking, and later we'll go back over these same things and learn them more inimately. Yesterday we made Peanut Butter Cookies (using the creamy method) and brysselkex (basically those yummy pepperidge farm merona type cookies). We decided to get fancy--see picture. Today it was Strassler cookies (piped out of a fancy tip! Cool! I made beautiful rosebuds), macaroons--which, sweet saint whoever the patron saint of bakers is, where have these been all my life? I've had those nasty coconut macaroons out of the Good Housekeeping cookbook, and have avoided them since. These are made with crushed almonds, butter, confectioners sugar--they melt in your mouth. You can make sandwich cookies out of them if you spread a little Nutella in between. We also made biscotti, which you have to bake twice! It kept us all late after class because we couldn't get it done.
Which brings me to the more personal part of my reflections: going back to college as an adult is really interesting. I've realized that my time is VERY valuable, and I don't have much patience for laziness or incomptence, especially people at my table who I have to do group projects with. Seriously, kids, welcome to the adult world. I'm getting lots of material for my novel because the stereotypical characters are just thick in the room. You've got the lazy college kids who have everything handed to them and have never had to work a day in their lives. When the chore/work roster was handed out, you should have seen the sneers! "I'm expected to mop? Are you kidding?" All eloquently said with a lifted eyebrow and curled lip. And sleeping during lecture. And not listening to directions! ARGGHH! What do we do? What did he say? Can I borrow this because I forgot mine? Puh-leeze! Everyone deserves some rope, and I do lend stuff. I also need to borrow stuff and ask questions sometimes. But there is a limit. I seriously wonder how many people are actually going to make it through the program. Thank goodness for my table partner who is totally sane, realistic, nice, and knows how to work. We have collaberated a lot, actually, sharing supplies and baking trays and doing projects together. She's another mature (I use that term loosely in my case. Yes, I still laugh at fart jokes) adult with a career behind her, who knows what she wants and how the real world works. Who knows how listen and study and be responsible. We get along.
So, one of my large faults has been exposed--I lack mercy. I'm trying. I've got to vent somewhere. The characters are just so obvious it's unbelievable. I don't have to be creative or embellish at all, I just have to write it down, with the appropriate use of semicolons and no run-on sentences. Gosh, my high school creative writing teacher would kill me. I think my blogging will be more conversational in tone. I ain't go time to edit!
Some things I wasn't expecting: there are no traditional amounts as we're used to seeing them. We weigh everything on a digital scale. The recipe does not say, bake for 30 minutes. It says a temperature and that's it--you know it's done by what it looks like. We have to cream our butter and sugar and whip our eggs by hand! No mixers. We have to do it the hard way. We're going to learn to do it right! No sissy stuff. You eat dirt, and you like it! You walk to school barefoot in the snow uphill both ways! That's how we do it in the army, and no whining! I don't know. I'm tired.
Will update pictures soon--
the first 3 weeks of school are over, and so is the "culinary" portion of my education. Thank goodness. It was fun to learn how to cut up a whole chicken, and how to make the "mother" sauces, and all that good stuff. But that's not why I'm there. We've had our hands in dough the past two days, and boy, does it feel good. I'm remembering the reasons I enrolled. I remember that "zen" feeling I get when the table is covered with flour, and I find myself humming as I gather my mise en place.
And boy oh boy! We start off with a bang! 3-4 recipes a day--we get a demo and then we have to get cooking. We're getting a general overview of baking, and later we'll go back over these same things and learn them more inimately. Yesterday we made Peanut Butter Cookies (using the creamy method) and brysselkex (basically those yummy pepperidge farm merona type cookies). We decided to get fancy--see picture. Today it was Strassler cookies (piped out of a fancy tip! Cool! I made beautiful rosebuds), macaroons--which, sweet saint whoever the patron saint of bakers is, where have these been all my life? I've had those nasty coconut macaroons out of the Good Housekeeping cookbook, and have avoided them since. These are made with crushed almonds, butter, confectioners sugar--they melt in your mouth. You can make sandwich cookies out of them if you spread a little Nutella in between. We also made biscotti, which you have to bake twice! It kept us all late after class because we couldn't get it done.
Which brings me to the more personal part of my reflections: going back to college as an adult is really interesting. I've realized that my time is VERY valuable, and I don't have much patience for laziness or incomptence, especially people at my table who I have to do group projects with. Seriously, kids, welcome to the adult world. I'm getting lots of material for my novel because the stereotypical characters are just thick in the room. You've got the lazy college kids who have everything handed to them and have never had to work a day in their lives. When the chore/work roster was handed out, you should have seen the sneers! "I'm expected to mop? Are you kidding?" All eloquently said with a lifted eyebrow and curled lip. And sleeping during lecture. And not listening to directions! ARGGHH! What do we do? What did he say? Can I borrow this because I forgot mine? Puh-leeze! Everyone deserves some rope, and I do lend stuff. I also need to borrow stuff and ask questions sometimes. But there is a limit. I seriously wonder how many people are actually going to make it through the program. Thank goodness for my table partner who is totally sane, realistic, nice, and knows how to work. We have collaberated a lot, actually, sharing supplies and baking trays and doing projects together. She's another mature (I use that term loosely in my case. Yes, I still laugh at fart jokes) adult with a career behind her, who knows what she wants and how the real world works. Who knows how listen and study and be responsible. We get along.
So, one of my large faults has been exposed--I lack mercy. I'm trying. I've got to vent somewhere. The characters are just so obvious it's unbelievable. I don't have to be creative or embellish at all, I just have to write it down, with the appropriate use of semicolons and no run-on sentences. Gosh, my high school creative writing teacher would kill me. I think my blogging will be more conversational in tone. I ain't go time to edit!
Some things I wasn't expecting: there are no traditional amounts as we're used to seeing them. We weigh everything on a digital scale. The recipe does not say, bake for 30 minutes. It says a temperature and that's it--you know it's done by what it looks like. We have to cream our butter and sugar and whip our eggs by hand! No mixers. We have to do it the hard way. We're going to learn to do it right! No sissy stuff. You eat dirt, and you like it! You walk to school barefoot in the snow uphill both ways! That's how we do it in the army, and no whining! I don't know. I'm tired.
Will update pictures soon--
