Heat in the Kitchen

I arrive to class just in time. For someone that’s been unemployed since January, an eight a.m. class is no small feat.

Class (Culinary Skills -- Theory):

Chef Zambotti, a somewhat stocky Italian man, is our instructor. I have no doubt he is excellent at his craft. He trained in Switzerland, apprenticed in Italy, worked in France, came to Canada, went back Europe, et cetera and so on. Unfortunately, being a teacher doesn’t quite seem to be his forte. He appears constantly comically annoyed and is a champ at undercutting students, but you can still tell that he’s trying. I am curious about the indentation in the side of his head, which looks like it was caused by his eyeglasses. I hope to get a picture of this curious mark at some point.

This is Zambotti:

Loud Mouth #2 has a problem with his schedule which leaves Zambotti flustered. Z exits, LM's schedule flapping over his head and the class begins to murmur amongst themselves; the pitch escalating to a dull roar. I note that more people are wearing uniforms. When Z returns, Loud Mouth #1 starts us off with an intellectual culinary discussion by raising his hand and saying, "Sir, what's a paring knife for?"

I ride my bike home for the two hour break between theory and lab. I'm starting to really enjoy zipping along Adelaide and Richmond on my jaunt to and from school.

Class (Culinary Skills -- Lab)

I arrive five minutes late to class for which Zambotti gives me a public dressing down. I am amused when I notice myself referring to him as "Chef". "Yes Chef," I say when he tells me that next week, being late is not an option. "No Chef," I say when he asks me if I want to try and give him an excuse he hasn't heard a million times before. I like Zambotti's accent. I like the way he eyes everyone accusingly after he's made a point, as though to say "None of you are even listening". The bike ride has left me sweaty and I'm confused as to why I'm still dripping when I realise I'm standing directly above a hot fryer. Thankfully, we are assigned work stations in the kitchen (I'll try to get pictures soon) and I escape the cruel heat of the moment. I am the only one in the class to not have a partner at my work station. I am amused and disheartened. Zambotti continues to explain things, but it's impossible to see from my station. Luckily, there are television screens set up, so it's just like I'm watching a cooking show.

Even more people are wearing their uniforms for the lab. Truth be told, I have mine in my bag, but I'm still pretty sure I'd look very silly in it. I also rented a locker, but am unable to put my uniform in there because I have yet to purchase a lock. The lab ends early as we're not actually preparing anything today but are told to read our books for a chicken and vegetable stock next week. I will purchase these "books" soon.

The ride home is like flying.