Final Weeks of my Stage

I am about 4 weeks away from ending my stage and 5 weeks from embarking on my dream of attending culinary school in France (pending a visa approval).  Time seems to have flown by quickly.  I just finished week 7 of my stage.  My role in the kitchen is starting to expand, I am beginning to feel comfortable enough to joke with the other cooks, and it is rapidly coming to an end.  I should be celebrating because this stage is literally destroying both my physical and mental health, yet when I reflect back all I can feel is disappointment in myself.  I am not good enough to ace my way through culinary school.  I feel as if I am a failure.

I look at Ms. Stars, who is trying to move out of her garde manger station and onto the line, and I just know that when she does get the chance to move up, it will be an effortless transition.  That is how good she is.  She has more experience than me, but we're the same age and she has worked in our restaurant for only 1 month more than me, yet she can cook circles around me: blindfolded, one hand tied behind her back, while hopping on one foot.  It irritates me that I can not be on her level. 

This past weekend was a little slow in the restaurant due to the upcoming holiday.  I was able to have the opportunity to work on each station.  I started off on garde manger under the tutelage of Ms. Stars and our new extern.  She showed me how to plate a few of her dishes and then she let me take the reins while she supervised.  It was a pretty cool experience, especially when the dishes I was plating were being served to the customers who were watching me make it from 2ft away.  One of our customers told me that the dish I made was delicious.  I cracked a smile, turned to Ms. Stars and told the customer, "Thanks, but it was all her," pointing to Ms. Stars.

When things slowed down on garde manger, I floated over to the cook's line and pastry.  I helped Mr. Pirate fry a few components for his dish.  Mr. Hasselhoff let me taste a broth that I made earlier in the day, and it was delicious.  Things started going south when pastry ran out of an 'ice cream' flavor.  I overheard Ms. KP/ZD mention it to chef and then I heard my name get thrown out.  A state of dread came over me.  I knew I would be asked to go make the 'ice cream.'  When Ms. KP/ZD came over and talked to me, she reaffirmed my fear.  She looked sad and sorry for me.  I don't know if it was a look of fear in her eyes, fear that I may screw up and she would be out of 'ice cream,' or sorry that she had to give an un-experienced person such a monumental task.  She gave me the recipe and I quickly went into the back and started mise-ing out the ingredients and making the 'ice cream.'  It came out a success.  Chef tasted it and said it was good.  Talk about a burden being lifted off your shoulder, yea?

French Consulate 101

Here are a few tips to keep in mind for anyone going to their French consulate to apply for their visa.  There were a few people who made some of these mistakes and were sent home immediately.
 

1. Make sure you have your paperwork in order and everything is filled out correctly.  Check it a million times over and when you're positive that you have everything, check it once more.  Bring extra copies.
2. Ignore your scheduled appointment time and show up as early as possible.  Be the first person in line.  DO NOT SHOW UP LATE!
3. Mentally prepare yourself to be treated poorly and talked down to, even if you have all your paperwork in line.
4. Make sure you go to the consulate that is assigned to the address on your identification card.  Example: If your ID says you live in New York, but you're working/living in California, you have to report to the consulate in New York.
5. If the consulate in your hometown is booked full of appointments, do not go to the next closest consulate.  You should have booked your appointment earlier and not waited until the last minute.  You will also be asked to leave.
6. Be as courteous as possible, even when you're being treated disrespectfully.

I had my interview at the French consulate 2 days ago.  All-in-all is was a satisfactory experience, but I would never want to go through it again if I had the choice.  There is a stereotype that says the French are rude, and after my visit to the consulate I can understand why.  I personally don't think the French themselves are rude per se, but that humans are just assholes in general, and when you have people who are in a seat of authority they can get carried away.

I was the 3rd person in line and was able to get everything done within 2 hours.  I actually finished 15 minutes before my scheduled appointment time.  The first clerk that I had the pleasure of dealing with was extremely dictatorial.  His greeting, responses, and demands were short and assertive to the point of intimidation.  "GIVE ME YOUR APPLICATION!"  "GIVE ME YOUR PICTURES" "GIVE ME YOUR OFII FORMS."  He was literally yelling at me.  I forgot to fill out my work address on my long stay visa form, so he yelled at me to fill it out.  I had to look up my company address on my phone because I didn't know it.  The clerk harassed me for not knowing my work address.  I tried to explain to him that I just recently transferred into a new location, but he cut me off mid sentence and proceeded to trash talk me in French amongst his colleagues.  He must've assumed that I didn't understand a word of French, which was asinine of him.  Seriously, I will be living in France for a year.  Don't you think I would be able to comprehend some basic French?

The 2nd clerk I dealt with was just as bad.  She accused me of texting on my phone and not paying attention to my name being called for over 5 minutes.  This was absolutely ludicrous!  I wasn't even texting on my phone and I never heard my name being called.  I didn't want to risk getting kicked out or having them turn down my visa so I took the blame and apologized.  The lady repeated, "YOU NEED TO PAY ATTENTION AND STOP TEXTING!"  then she just stared me down for a few seconds.  It was awkward.  We proceeded with a few questions, she made me sign a few things, and then she tried to get my fingerprints with a scanner.  My fingerprints weren't coming out clearly and she was getting frustrated with the machine.  I kept quiet while laughing my ass off on the inside.  The skin on my fingers are in a constant state of peeling and regeneration and it was throwing the machine off.  She was oblivious to the fact that the problem was with my fingers and not the scanner.  These are what my fingers look like when they're "healed,"  2 days ago they were much worse.  You will have to use your imagination.

The last 2 ladies that dealt with me were extremely nice and made up for the lousy start to my morning.  I had all my paperwork in order so I was able to quickly get in and out.  There was however, one letter that I didn't have, but they let me slide as long as I fax it to them later on.  I am not sure if it was just my consulate or if this applies to everyone else, but for those who are applying to FERRANDI, our letter states that the class time is 5 months long with a 3-6 month internship.  The consulate told me that my internship could not exceed the length of my class time.  You will have to get an official letter from FERRANDI stating that your internship will be no longer than 5 months.  Be aware.

5th Week Into My Stage

I went back and read my earlier posts of when I first started my stage.  Things seemed less negative back then.  I am now 5 weeks in and instead of enjoying my time, I have come to dread the weekends.  I don't know if it is due to the lack of sleep, the lack of a social life, the fact that I am constantly on overdrive at the restaurant, or a combination of all 3.  I am always fatigued which in turn causes me to be in a lousy mood everyday.

My hands now resemble those of a zombie:  dried, peeling, black.  I have increased sensitivity in my fingers from all the lost layers of skin.  Warm feels hot, hot feels like hell, cold is cold but eventually starts to burn, and under normal room temperature conditions, my fingers constantly have a stinging sensation.  I often wonder if cooks around the world can pick each other out from a crowd just by looking at hands.  I wonder what they would think of me if they saw my hands?  Would they smile and reminisce of a time when they were once in my shoes? or would they laugh at me for being a newbie?

There is a cook (Hasselhoff) who has recently been having me help him with his prep work.  Most of the cooks just give me a list of things to 'mise' out (short for mise en place) and leave me to my work.  Hasselhoff on the other hand is always explaining things to me.  He explains how the ingredients I am prepping are incorporated into his dishes, and he has me taste it as I go along.  During dinner service he will sneak to the pastry line and feed me some of the components of his dishes.  I am learning a lot from him and I am thankful that he takes the time to help mentor me.

I try to avoid Chef as much as possible when I am working.  He scares me.  I've seen him blow up on other cooks for under performing and I fear one day I will feel his wrath.  He was able to catch me by myself on Sunday night after service.  Chef asked me some questions about my regular job, when I was leaving for Paris, etc.  At the end of our conversation, he told me "When you come back, give us a call."  I took this as an offer for employment, or at least another stage.  Maybe the other cooks have commented about my performance in a positive way, or maybe Chef is impressed by how hard I am working, which I find odd because I didn't think that he knew I existed.  

I can't believe that I am 46 days away from flying to Paris. . .pending my visa approval that is.  I am going in next week for my interview at the embassy/consulate.  Hopefully they don't send me back home on the account of a missing document.  I hear that the embassy is extremely strict about paperwork, and won't hesitate to berate you at the slightest hint of discrepancy.  Wish me luck!

Doubts.

When I first dreamed about attending culinary school years ago, I never imagined myself becoming a chef, or owning a restaurant.  I just wanted to learn how to cook.  I wanted to entertain friends and family, and I wanted to be damn good at it.  I had no idea who Gordon Ramsay, Thomas Keller, or Joel Robuchon were, nor did I aspire to be them.  Is that odd?  You might be thinking, "Then why go to culinary school when you can just take a few instructional classes on the side?  Why waste all that money?"  The only answer I have is that this is something I've wanted to do for over half my life.  I wanted to live abroad (France specifically), and I wanted to learn French cuisine from the French themselves.  I wanted to be able to cook and entertain friends at my house.  I didn't want to be some fake-ass-Rachael-Ray-copycat.  I wanted Michelin star experience under my belt, and I wanted to bring that level of quality and excellence into the home kitchen for friends and family.  It is a lousy explanation, I know, but this is how I feel.

At times I feel as if I were pressured into wanting to be a chef.  Today I am staging at a restaurant and I am unsure whether or not I want to pursue this as a career.  My friends and coworkers talk to me as if they're planning my future for me.  "You're going to be a chef.  You will be the next Top Chef.  You will have your own TV Show like 'Hell's Kitchen,'  You're going to make so much money.  We can't wait until you open your own restaurant."

First of all, for every 1 chef that makes it big there are a million more who are broke and struggling, and I am not a prodigy.  This is not the path that I want.  I've tried explaining my intentions and feelings to my friends, but I am immediately shut down with assurance that I will be "God's greatest gift" to the culinary world, or that I am being ridiculous.

I am now a month into my stage and it has become a love-hate relationship.  The prep work is ok for the most part, but when it gets bad, it gets BAD!  The other week I had to clean a whole hotel pan (roughly 30lbs) full of Jerusalem artichokes.  I stood in front of a sink for 4 hours scrubbing the damn things.  The bristles on the brush I used began to fall off from the scrubbing.  I almost quit that day, but I persevered.  I spoke to one of the cooks this past weekend and she mentioned that everyone was talking about how bad they felt for me.  I just laughed it off, but I am secretly fearful of the day I get that task again.  I don't know what I will do.

Sometimes when I am about to give up, something happens that draws me back to the restaurant.  This past weekend, one of the cooks commissioned me make a component for one of the dishes he cooks.  He gave me a recipe list and after I gathered everything, he taught me how to make it.  As he was teaching me each step, he went into detail about why it was made this way, why I had to do this, what the outcome would be if I were do to it one way versus another.  I really enjoyed this.  I got to put my hands in something that would be served.  It isn't like the pastry line where I just plate something.  I actually cooked food with my own hands (even though it was very basic)!  It is little moments like these which make the grind all worth it.  Also my friendship with Ms. Stars is starting to progress very well.  I look to her for advice and companionship. 

In closing, I must reiterate my doubts on becoming a chef.  This is/can be a very tough field to work in.  I applaud all the cooks and chefs out there.  These people are super soldiers and should be revered.  They've sacrificed their family, friends, and a life of leisure to serve you, the customer.  All I can say is Thank You for doing what you do.  I will still go to culinary school as I have always planned to do, but what I do afterwards is still up in the air.  Time will tell.