There is a wonderful thing about culinary school for those of us who love to eat. Free food. A particular delight of mine is that every day there are two crusty and delicious loaves of french bread awaiting us each time we enter in our chef getup. Now working till midnight at my restaurant and coming in for a start time of 7:45 Am…that bread is a soft, crusty, little nugget of welcome. Add a little extra virgin olive oil, golden in color, amazing in taste, and you have one fine morning treat.
Now this particular morning, I saw that someone had beat me to that first hunk of bread. I saw a golden side container right next to the bread. I eagerly dunked my chunk of bread into that golden mixture and took a huge bite….SOAP! Oh my gosh…ick…I am spitting into the sink and crunching my nose and squinting my eyes and spitting some more. Eew. Yuck. spit spit. Oh! That taste that brings back childhood and knowing you did something so terribly wrong. Only this time the soap dunk itself was the wrongdoing.
No matter how many times I rinsed my mouth it still tasted like soap. I woke right up. Not exactly the savory wake up I had anticipated. And that is why you label everything in a kitchen because on three hours of sleep even dish soap can look appetizing.
Subsequently I am the official taster of the class and Chef will have me try everything first because no matter what it is he knows it’ll be better than the bread-palm olive combo that I concocted.