Smoked it!

The quarter has come to a close. Thank God. It really seemed like a long 10 weeks. It however, ended on a seriously good upnote. I smoked it!! Smoked it like a Cuban cigar, baby. It started with my proteins final. The practical went very well. We had to truss and clean a pork tenderloin. Then, fillet a fish, fabricate a chicken, and french out a rack of pork chops. I did well. I made all my yield percentages, kept a clean workstation, finished on time, and did a mighty fine job if I do say so myself. The very pierced TA was in charge of grading us. He was also in charge of grading us on our appearance. Ironic, coming from a man with giant rubber tires (minus the hubcaps) in his ears and several barbells in his face. His jacket looked like it had tea stains on it and there was a hole in his pants. A hole big enough to put a fist through. Really? You thought I should press a "T" into the back of my jacket? I think you should go back home, take a look in the mirror and start your day over. Now, if you gave me a good grade--more power to you. Pierce away. Oh, did I mention I got a 96% on my written test? Brag, brag, brag...

Breads was another matter completely. I usually consider a 65% a pretty good showing on her tests. I was nervous and studied pretty hard. I usually make up for my poor written grades by my practical exams and dazzling personality. Well, it was a backward week. I got a 100% on the written test. Yes, a 100%. It was a 5 page long essay test on the qualities and properties of breadmaking. I even remembered the names of the bacteria that give bread its flavor. I was astounded.

Our bread practical was a bit trickier. We submitted two bread recipes and then she messed with them. We were supposed to be able to predict what those changes would do to the breads and their flavor. I really thought I had a handle on it. In a way, I guess I did. I knew what went wrong when it did. And boy did it. The multigrain loaves were so sour and weird that they were inedible. She wrinkled her nose and started giggling. The brioche loaves were good though. They could have been better. I cut down the eggs when I should have added another. They weren't the worst loaves though. My friends came out grey--they looked like they were right out of a sooty fireplace. Grey is not an appetizing color for food. Ever. She said she's had it with this culinary business.

I did save myself with my bread dough plaques. They were mighty cute. I've included a photo--

Until next quarter--

Meat

This has been a weird semester. The two classes I'm taking are so different from each other--in both subject matter, class make-up, and hormone levels. Proteins last week was all about sausage. We were given a lecture last week and again this week about sexual harassment in the workplace. It did little to curb the mouths of the boys. I admit, inappropriate comments were on the tip of my tongue several times but I'm supposed to be a grown-up. When you are dealing with yards and yards of casings and fitting it over a long tube it gets difficult. The sausage shoots through this tube and fills the casing. The boys couldn't take it any longer. It started with snickering and then came the meat jokes. It was quiet but they were there. There are only 4 girls in this class so it becomes hard for these boys to keep it together. I think it's a whole mob mentality thing.

I will say that my little group made really great sausage. We were on veal and added cloves, nutmeg, sage, and a little fresh-squeezed orange. It may sound weird but it was really good. Now I don't eat sausage. Well, let me correct. I don't eat sausage in casings. I can't deal with that pop it makes when you break through. Not to mention the horror of what most sausages are made from. I can live a very happy fulfilled life without the sausage product. But Tuesday I took a risk. Not a big one--I had made the sausage and it wasn't in a casing but say what you will, I ate the stuff.

Our class of boys has begun to gel. It is loud and obnoxious and I wouldn't want to teach it. Frankie has begun singing again so she must be out of her funk. The "Frenchman" who stands in front of me is a soft spoken lovely man. He is called the Frenchman because he stands hunched over and looks like he should wear a beret. He may even wear a kerchief. I can't tell. But I think he might. The know-it-all is still telling us how we should do it but I've learned to tune him out. Our TA is a saber wielding, heavily pierced man who really likes to process meat. Really likes to. A lot. My table partners have been great. The woman next to me is a former military person and is as precise as you can imagine. The other table mate has been in the business for 25 years. I've learned a lot from both of them. Our final is tomorrow. It will be the same test as the midterm. Only faster. I'm not worried. I never get anything different than a B from this teacher.

Enough for today. My bread written final is Thursday. I will be lucky to pass. Bad idea to take a class from a doctorate in chemistry. I'll let you know how it goes.