Saturday, July 24, 2010
Vacation So Far! In A Nutshell...
I LOVE NYC! Never a dull moment, especially when driving... Speaking of, some adventures so far: drive to Newark on Wednesday, Mario has to go on an overnight trip and I have to meet him at the airport to get the keys. I bounce the front left wheel off a curb while looking at iPhone GPS and lose the hubcap. I was also lost... Party with flight attendants till dawn. Car got towed: $200. Barhopping Hell's Kitchen, NYC, run into Chris Fasulo at Valada. Party till dawn again. Drive to NYC Friday, forgot my phone charger at Mario's. U-turn at the Holland Tunnel. Construction, rush hour, lost, Meadowlands. How did I get here?? Met Deana Hare from SHAPE for dinner, over 2 hrs late. Great catching up! Congrats on Baby Boy due in the spring! Can't believe it's been almost 20 years... Drive to Brooklyn and meet Michael Milliken-Moon, Eric Milliken-Moon's husband. Went to high school with Eric at SHAPE, as well. Eric is on a trip, Michael and I hang out after bringing in my stuff from the car. In the pouring rain from the giant storm that rolled in as I pulled up. Soaked... Gracie and Hugo meet, and they are both the alpha. I coupe of fights ensue. Take turns caging the dogs... Michael goes to bed, Eric gets home late and we chat over the last (almost) 20 years. Up in the morning, take the dogs to Central Park. It was 97F... Very hot day. Pick up Michael at work and drive down the East side to the Brooklyn Bridge. I'm such a tourist, taking pictures of everything with my iPhone. I'll get them uploaded. Promise! Lunch, naps, shower, dinnertime. Who knows what's next for tonight, but Eric sounds ready to go out! I'm up for another round! Tomorrow--Marshfield, south of Boston to stay with April and NIck for a week. Can't wait! Cory flies in on Thursday and we're all going to a Tigers/Red Sox game. Cory and I in Detroit, April and Nick in Boston attire. It'll be a great time! While I'm at April and Nick's, I need to refresh my studying and get ready for back to school. Practice my damn consomme... I'll also get going back with the blog! Sorry to leave you hanging, but this is my first vacation in 7.5 years, and I'm seeing family as well as friends from high school, college, the Air Force, post-Air Force San Antonio, and ran into a friend from the Hudson Valley. Every chapter of my life from high school, on... What a great time!
Monday, July 19, 2010
Cory Is Dead
I pulled up in the neighbor's yard, left Gracie in the back seat and ran around the car... As I said, Cory was dead on the floor of the garage, laying there looking as though he was just passed out. The door was wide open, but hanging down a little bit because it was opened with the emergency release cord that disengaged the door from the opener. His trucked was pulled in, and he was laying by the tailpipe on the passenger side of his beat-up, dark green Ford Ranger. Cracked windows, dents, chipped paint... But it got him around.
He was only wearing a long pair of blue work out shorts with a white stripe down the side of the legs, and his skin was a grayish color... almost the same shade as the as the smooth concrete floor of the garage. He was covered in a green tarp, but it wasn't quite big enough to cover him over completely. He was on his back, head tot he right and his left arm, chest and face were exposed. There seemed to be a large dark spot on his side, which as it turned out was bruising or burning from the defibrillator. He just looked asleep. I yelled at the emergency services personnel to cover him, or take him off the floor, but they couldn't. It was still considered a crime scene until they could interview me, which was the next order of business.
The cop in the suit asked who I was, I told him, and he asked me if I could get into his car so he could ask me some questions. In all honestly, I have only a vague recollection, but I'm sure it was the standard line of questioning. I remember him asking if he could record the conversation for accuracy and I agreed. How do I know Cory--I am, was, his roommate. I had to correct myself. How long had I know him--about four months. Did he have any enemies, owe any money, have a drug problem--no, not that I knew of. He was an assistant manager at Sonic, worked nights to close, and went to the gym. Same thing everyday that he worked. The whole time, all I wanted was for them to cover Cory's body. I had to ask again, "is he really dead?" Yes. He was really dead... And I had to hold up my hand to block the view so I couldn't see his body laying there.
Little did I realize that his family was also there, sitting on the front lawn. His mother, step-father, aunt, best friend, and his identical twin brother... That was the erie part... I was done in the police cruiser and got out, met the family for the first time, and offered my condolences. His mother's face was riddles with tear lines, and she looked exasperated. Worn out. His aunt, who was actually a friend of his mother's since high school, was very kind. She was strong. Shaken, you could tell. Obviously. But she still had it together. Wayne, the step-father was down the side of the house on his cell phone, talking to someone, and the best friend was sitting on the retaining wall next to Cory's mom. Cody, Cory's twin, was standing. We introduced ourselves, shook hands, and I had to look away. I had to apologize to him because I couldn't look him in the face. I was just so surreal.
Then I remembered that Gracie was still in the back seat of the car, so I went and brought her over. Animals are always good therapy, and Gracie is the best. She knew people were sad, and she went to each of them, nudged at them, licked them, and just sat with them all, as if to offer her condolences as well.
The emergency services personnel were finally cleared to take Cory away. In a small cul de sac, there were almost as many police cars and emergency vehicles as there were driveways... An ambulance was in front of the house as well as a CSI truck. The doors were all open and they were all carrying all sorts of tool boxes and brief cases and apparatus, and then came the gurney and the body bag... Step-dad took mom down the side of the house so she wouldn't see. She never saw Cory's body. Twin, aunt, friend and I all stood together and watched as they lowered the gurney beside Cory, carefully removed the tarp that only half covered him, and laid the body bag right next to him, opening it up wide. Then two large men in uniforms positioned them selves at each end, head and foot, and took hold: one under his shoulders, one by the ankles. Two others helped, one to stabilize his head and the other helping to move his hips as they placed him on the body bag. They were very careful and respectful. And not a sound was made by anyone. Even Gracie, who at this point was tied to the small tree in the front yard, stop moving and laid down and just watched. They covered over the top flap of the bag and zipped it up. It's a truly heavy duty zipper with that loud sound that you hear on tv... I didn't know, but there are actually loops--handles--on the corners of the bag, and the two large men picked Cory up and placed him on the gurney. raised it up, and rolled him into the back of the ambulance. Closed the doors and started on their way. The police finished up what they had to do and were on their way as well.
It was just me and the family, with every neighbor looking on from their front lawns. Once again, the military training took over, and I shut off the emotion. In that neighborhood, where houses (including ours just the Friday night before) and cars were getting broken into, the neighbors were all understandably curious and I knew exactly why. I had felt it necessary to go over to one group on the neighbors' lawn and explain that Cory wasn't murdered, but that he had committed suicide. I couldn't believe that I had to explain that. But everyone was very consoling. People I'd never spoken to were now very supportive.
And now it was time to sort out the house. What was going to happen to the house since Cory owned it and was now dead. And as ugly as it was, where I was going to live and take care of Gracie? There was the funeral, the mortgage, the utilities, and of course, the emotional aftermath. So many questions--what happened, how, when, WHY???
He was only wearing a long pair of blue work out shorts with a white stripe down the side of the legs, and his skin was a grayish color... almost the same shade as the as the smooth concrete floor of the garage. He was covered in a green tarp, but it wasn't quite big enough to cover him over completely. He was on his back, head tot he right and his left arm, chest and face were exposed. There seemed to be a large dark spot on his side, which as it turned out was bruising or burning from the defibrillator. He just looked asleep. I yelled at the emergency services personnel to cover him, or take him off the floor, but they couldn't. It was still considered a crime scene until they could interview me, which was the next order of business.
The cop in the suit asked who I was, I told him, and he asked me if I could get into his car so he could ask me some questions. In all honestly, I have only a vague recollection, but I'm sure it was the standard line of questioning. I remember him asking if he could record the conversation for accuracy and I agreed. How do I know Cory--I am, was, his roommate. I had to correct myself. How long had I know him--about four months. Did he have any enemies, owe any money, have a drug problem--no, not that I knew of. He was an assistant manager at Sonic, worked nights to close, and went to the gym. Same thing everyday that he worked. The whole time, all I wanted was for them to cover Cory's body. I had to ask again, "is he really dead?" Yes. He was really dead... And I had to hold up my hand to block the view so I couldn't see his body laying there.
Little did I realize that his family was also there, sitting on the front lawn. His mother, step-father, aunt, best friend, and his identical twin brother... That was the erie part... I was done in the police cruiser and got out, met the family for the first time, and offered my condolences. His mother's face was riddles with tear lines, and she looked exasperated. Worn out. His aunt, who was actually a friend of his mother's since high school, was very kind. She was strong. Shaken, you could tell. Obviously. But she still had it together. Wayne, the step-father was down the side of the house on his cell phone, talking to someone, and the best friend was sitting on the retaining wall next to Cory's mom. Cody, Cory's twin, was standing. We introduced ourselves, shook hands, and I had to look away. I had to apologize to him because I couldn't look him in the face. I was just so surreal.
Then I remembered that Gracie was still in the back seat of the car, so I went and brought her over. Animals are always good therapy, and Gracie is the best. She knew people were sad, and she went to each of them, nudged at them, licked them, and just sat with them all, as if to offer her condolences as well.
The emergency services personnel were finally cleared to take Cory away. In a small cul de sac, there were almost as many police cars and emergency vehicles as there were driveways... An ambulance was in front of the house as well as a CSI truck. The doors were all open and they were all carrying all sorts of tool boxes and brief cases and apparatus, and then came the gurney and the body bag... Step-dad took mom down the side of the house so she wouldn't see. She never saw Cory's body. Twin, aunt, friend and I all stood together and watched as they lowered the gurney beside Cory, carefully removed the tarp that only half covered him, and laid the body bag right next to him, opening it up wide. Then two large men in uniforms positioned them selves at each end, head and foot, and took hold: one under his shoulders, one by the ankles. Two others helped, one to stabilize his head and the other helping to move his hips as they placed him on the body bag. They were very careful and respectful. And not a sound was made by anyone. Even Gracie, who at this point was tied to the small tree in the front yard, stop moving and laid down and just watched. They covered over the top flap of the bag and zipped it up. It's a truly heavy duty zipper with that loud sound that you hear on tv... I didn't know, but there are actually loops--handles--on the corners of the bag, and the two large men picked Cory up and placed him on the gurney. raised it up, and rolled him into the back of the ambulance. Closed the doors and started on their way. The police finished up what they had to do and were on their way as well.
It was just me and the family, with every neighbor looking on from their front lawns. Once again, the military training took over, and I shut off the emotion. In that neighborhood, where houses (including ours just the Friday night before) and cars were getting broken into, the neighbors were all understandably curious and I knew exactly why. I had felt it necessary to go over to one group on the neighbors' lawn and explain that Cory wasn't murdered, but that he had committed suicide. I couldn't believe that I had to explain that. But everyone was very consoling. People I'd never spoken to were now very supportive.
And now it was time to sort out the house. What was going to happen to the house since Cory owned it and was now dead. And as ugly as it was, where I was going to live and take care of Gracie? There was the funeral, the mortgage, the utilities, and of course, the emotional aftermath. So many questions--what happened, how, when, WHY???
Monday, July 12, 2010
The Story of Cory
When last I left you, I was on my way home after getting the news that Cory was dead. I picked up Gracie from the groomer and raced home, oblivious to the world around me, my head racing with thoughts and possible images of what to expect, almost hyperventilating, fighting to compartmentalize the fear, pain, sadness, choking back the inevitable tears... I had to just get home and see what's what for myself; still holding on to denial, refusing to really believe that it was true, trying to wrap my mind around the possibility...
The drive seemed to take hours, and I drove the route as I had done so many times before without a thought. Interstate 30 East, exiting at Brentwood Stair Road, and turning left at the light at the end of the exit ramp, heading down the hill. Past the income tax office, the liquor store, the car wash, the Section 8 apartments, turning right on to Wilson Road at the gas station. Heading up another hill to the stop sign next to the golf course, where the flock of pheasant waddled around. Left turn on Jenson Road, passing the golf course and coming up on Meadow Court. Where I was to turn left to get home.
Meadow Court was a cul de sac right bedside the golf course that was pretty quiet, for the most part. Well, except for the drug dealing house right at the end of the cul de sac... Allegedly... On the side backing up to the golf course, there was some sort of policeman, or something, that lived right across the street from the house. He drove some kind of undercover cruiser, the white Crown Victoria with cop tires and red and blue lights behind the front grill and always parked in the driveway because the garage had become a workshop. There was the nice african-american, middle-aged mom, single as best as I could discern, next door to him to the right. Next door to us on the right was the nice young couple with a newborn, and usually had cars, car parts, a boat, or a very large dog in the driveway. He was a talented auto mechanic in the process of restoring a classic something, or other... I think it was a late 60'/early 70's model Chevelle, but I'm not that car savvy. On the other side of us was the nice latino family. The gay older brother and the straight younger brother, the mother who was staying with them because she was divorcing her bipolar husband, and the younger sister who stopped by often with her friends.
That was the kind of everyday people that lived there. There was the odd crime--cars or houses broken into, in fact ours was broken into just the Friday night before. I got off of work at 11pm and few of us went to a friend's house house for a couple of beers. When I got home, the garage door was wide open and all of the lights in the house were off. We were also in the bad habit of not setting the house alarm or locking the door from the garage to the laundry room... So I pulled into the driveway and pulled my 8" chef's knife and 8" serrated knife out of my bag from work, and went into the house through the garage door into the laundry room, turning on every light as I went, paranoid that someone was in the house.
My first thought observed that to door from the garage to the laundry room was closed, but from the laundry room into the house was open. We always left that door closed... Strike two.... So I screamed Gracie's name. The most important thing at that point was that she was ok. I held my breath waiting to hear from her, but she doesn't bark. I was listening for the click of her claws on the bare floor and the jingle of her dog tags. No sound... I called again louder into the dark house with only the light from the garage and the laundry room lighting the hallway to the bedrooms. Then the click click click click of Gracie trotting to the door. What a sigh of relief that she was not only there, but ok.
I closed the doors behind me, closing Gracie into the laundry room as I searched the house room by room, turning on every light as I went, knives in one hand, cell phone with 9-1-1 dialed and ready to call in the other. Hallway--clear. Foyer and front closet--clear. Living room, kitchen/dining room--clear. I made sure the back door from the living room to back yard was locked. I'm not a girl from a horror movie... Then the scary part--the bedrooms... The first bedroom (where Patrick lived)--I threw open the door and reached inside to turn on the light fast and jumped back. seeing it was clear, I checked the closet and behind the open closet door. Then my bedroom next door, checking behind the door and in the closet... Clear. Heart pounding out of my chest, trying to breathe, but not wanting to be heard... The bathroom, opening the shower curtain, even though it was pretty much see-through... Still, had to make sure. And worst of all--Cory's room at the end of the hall. His room had a little bit of an entrance way, opening to the left, closet to the right. I reach in to turn on the light on the left, and the closet light on the right, again, jumping back in so doing. Through the bedroom to his bathroom, which was pitch black, and the light switches were inside and around to the right. There were several switches for two lights, the heat light, exhaust, heat... I fumbled frantically for all of them. All clear. Last thought--the back yard... Also all clear. Whew!
No one in the house, 9-1-1 called and en route, tried contacting Cory, which it turns out was at the gym and hadn't been home. Asked the neighbors if the knew or saw anything, and the only answer I got was from the latino family next door: when they got home at 6pm, the door was closed. When their friends showed up for movies at 9pm, the door was open. They just figured that we were cleaning out the garage or something, since we both held such odd schedules... The odd thing was that there was nothing missing. All I could figure was that whoever entered the house got scared when Gracie came a-runnin' and maybe barking... Scared them away and they pulled the door to the garage closed behind them so she wouldn't get to them. Even though all shed do is lick them... After that, the doors were locked, alarm code set, and lights in the backyard left on around the clock.
So as you can imagine, less than a week later I had to come home to a call that Cory was dead... I pulled into our cul de sac, which was lined on both sides of the street with police cars, emergency services, and CSI vehicles, as well as every neighbor standing on their front lawns looking at the house. I pulled in slowly looking up and down the court and the faces all turned to look at me as I drove past. Pointing, whispering to each other. I couldn't see the scene through all of the vehicles and people until...
I drive past the last car blocking the view, and there he was... The garage door was open, but not all the way. Cory was on the floor of the garage, half covered in a tarp that someone found... His family was sitting on the front lawn--mom, stepdad, identical twin brother, aunt, and best friend--sitting on the retaining wall between our yard and the yard next door where the latino family lived out of sight from the garage... But I saw Cory laying there, and he just looked like he was asleep. Although grayish in color... I was starting to lose it. Tears, emotion, compartmentalization failing, Cory was lying cold on a cold cement garage floor, half-dressed, half-covered. I was still driving. Sort of. I think I could have totaled my car when I slammed into the curb, parking the car in the yard and throwing the transmission into park while the car was still moving...
I jumped out, running around the car to the driveway to see closer... And then the cop in a suit grabbed my arm, asked my name, and I just started to cry. It was true. It seemed true... Cory was dead in the garage. Only half-covered with a green tarp. I was so angry! It was so disrespectful! I yelled at them to cover him! I yelled! I screamed! I cried! Any strength I had to get there and compartmentalize and maintain was now completely gone. Cory was gone. My landlord. My roommate. My friend. He was gone. And a part of me with him. I knew him for so brief a time, but he touched my life. My soul. He was a gentle, troubled man who had been through more than most... Little did I know...
And at that, I'll bid you all good evening and pleasant dreams and I thank you for reading. I humbly ask that if you're reading, please list yourself as a follower. I appreciate your interest. I just need to stop for tonight...
The drive seemed to take hours, and I drove the route as I had done so many times before without a thought. Interstate 30 East, exiting at Brentwood Stair Road, and turning left at the light at the end of the exit ramp, heading down the hill. Past the income tax office, the liquor store, the car wash, the Section 8 apartments, turning right on to Wilson Road at the gas station. Heading up another hill to the stop sign next to the golf course, where the flock of pheasant waddled around. Left turn on Jenson Road, passing the golf course and coming up on Meadow Court. Where I was to turn left to get home.
Meadow Court was a cul de sac right bedside the golf course that was pretty quiet, for the most part. Well, except for the drug dealing house right at the end of the cul de sac... Allegedly... On the side backing up to the golf course, there was some sort of policeman, or something, that lived right across the street from the house. He drove some kind of undercover cruiser, the white Crown Victoria with cop tires and red and blue lights behind the front grill and always parked in the driveway because the garage had become a workshop. There was the nice african-american, middle-aged mom, single as best as I could discern, next door to him to the right. Next door to us on the right was the nice young couple with a newborn, and usually had cars, car parts, a boat, or a very large dog in the driveway. He was a talented auto mechanic in the process of restoring a classic something, or other... I think it was a late 60'/early 70's model Chevelle, but I'm not that car savvy. On the other side of us was the nice latino family. The gay older brother and the straight younger brother, the mother who was staying with them because she was divorcing her bipolar husband, and the younger sister who stopped by often with her friends.
That was the kind of everyday people that lived there. There was the odd crime--cars or houses broken into, in fact ours was broken into just the Friday night before. I got off of work at 11pm and few of us went to a friend's house house for a couple of beers. When I got home, the garage door was wide open and all of the lights in the house were off. We were also in the bad habit of not setting the house alarm or locking the door from the garage to the laundry room... So I pulled into the driveway and pulled my 8" chef's knife and 8" serrated knife out of my bag from work, and went into the house through the garage door into the laundry room, turning on every light as I went, paranoid that someone was in the house.
My first thought observed that to door from the garage to the laundry room was closed, but from the laundry room into the house was open. We always left that door closed... Strike two.... So I screamed Gracie's name. The most important thing at that point was that she was ok. I held my breath waiting to hear from her, but she doesn't bark. I was listening for the click of her claws on the bare floor and the jingle of her dog tags. No sound... I called again louder into the dark house with only the light from the garage and the laundry room lighting the hallway to the bedrooms. Then the click click click click of Gracie trotting to the door. What a sigh of relief that she was not only there, but ok.
I closed the doors behind me, closing Gracie into the laundry room as I searched the house room by room, turning on every light as I went, knives in one hand, cell phone with 9-1-1 dialed and ready to call in the other. Hallway--clear. Foyer and front closet--clear. Living room, kitchen/dining room--clear. I made sure the back door from the living room to back yard was locked. I'm not a girl from a horror movie... Then the scary part--the bedrooms... The first bedroom (where Patrick lived)--I threw open the door and reached inside to turn on the light fast and jumped back. seeing it was clear, I checked the closet and behind the open closet door. Then my bedroom next door, checking behind the door and in the closet... Clear. Heart pounding out of my chest, trying to breathe, but not wanting to be heard... The bathroom, opening the shower curtain, even though it was pretty much see-through... Still, had to make sure. And worst of all--Cory's room at the end of the hall. His room had a little bit of an entrance way, opening to the left, closet to the right. I reach in to turn on the light on the left, and the closet light on the right, again, jumping back in so doing. Through the bedroom to his bathroom, which was pitch black, and the light switches were inside and around to the right. There were several switches for two lights, the heat light, exhaust, heat... I fumbled frantically for all of them. All clear. Last thought--the back yard... Also all clear. Whew!
No one in the house, 9-1-1 called and en route, tried contacting Cory, which it turns out was at the gym and hadn't been home. Asked the neighbors if the knew or saw anything, and the only answer I got was from the latino family next door: when they got home at 6pm, the door was closed. When their friends showed up for movies at 9pm, the door was open. They just figured that we were cleaning out the garage or something, since we both held such odd schedules... The odd thing was that there was nothing missing. All I could figure was that whoever entered the house got scared when Gracie came a-runnin' and maybe barking... Scared them away and they pulled the door to the garage closed behind them so she wouldn't get to them. Even though all shed do is lick them... After that, the doors were locked, alarm code set, and lights in the backyard left on around the clock.
So as you can imagine, less than a week later I had to come home to a call that Cory was dead... I pulled into our cul de sac, which was lined on both sides of the street with police cars, emergency services, and CSI vehicles, as well as every neighbor standing on their front lawns looking at the house. I pulled in slowly looking up and down the court and the faces all turned to look at me as I drove past. Pointing, whispering to each other. I couldn't see the scene through all of the vehicles and people until...
I drive past the last car blocking the view, and there he was... The garage door was open, but not all the way. Cory was on the floor of the garage, half covered in a tarp that someone found... His family was sitting on the front lawn--mom, stepdad, identical twin brother, aunt, and best friend--sitting on the retaining wall between our yard and the yard next door where the latino family lived out of sight from the garage... But I saw Cory laying there, and he just looked like he was asleep. Although grayish in color... I was starting to lose it. Tears, emotion, compartmentalization failing, Cory was lying cold on a cold cement garage floor, half-dressed, half-covered. I was still driving. Sort of. I think I could have totaled my car when I slammed into the curb, parking the car in the yard and throwing the transmission into park while the car was still moving...
I jumped out, running around the car to the driveway to see closer... And then the cop in a suit grabbed my arm, asked my name, and I just started to cry. It was true. It seemed true... Cory was dead in the garage. Only half-covered with a green tarp. I was so angry! It was so disrespectful! I yelled at them to cover him! I yelled! I screamed! I cried! Any strength I had to get there and compartmentalize and maintain was now completely gone. Cory was gone. My landlord. My roommate. My friend. He was gone. And a part of me with him. I knew him for so brief a time, but he touched my life. My soul. He was a gentle, troubled man who had been through more than most... Little did I know...
And at that, I'll bid you all good evening and pleasant dreams and I thank you for reading. I humbly ask that if you're reading, please list yourself as a follower. I appreciate your interest. I just need to stop for tonight...
Sorry for the delay!
Good evening again!
Tomorrow is the last day of Skills I and then we're on Summer Break for 3.5 weeks! We had the written final today and I feel pretty good about it. I know I got at least 2 wrong, but there are a lot of points out there. So here's hoping.
7/11/10 10:30pm
This page has been sitting on my laptop for days, and I have yet to finish and get it posted. But in my defense, I've been busy jumping on projects and getting errands done. Gracie is all groomed, as well a princess should well be. ;-) My baby comes first! But I just want to get this up before it gets any later.
To finish up what was in the beginning of this post, I DID finish Skills I and I got another A! Well, A-, but I'll take it! I got a 90% on the written final for brains farts, honestly... And on the cooking final, we were to, in 3 hours, make consomme (my nemesis!), Espagnole Sauce (one of the 5 mother sauces), Hollandaise (another other sauce) , green veg (broccoli), white veg (cauliflower)--there are specific ways to cook veggies (heavily salted boiling water for green, boiling water w acid w/ lid on for white)--, and mayonnaise. Mayo is soooo easy!!! But damn the consomme! It was cloudy, AGAIN, so this time I tried to re-clarify. Successfully, I might add, but in the process, I lost my yield... Instead of a quart, I only got a bowl! And in my panic to get it right, I forgot to reheat... so it wasn't up to temp. BUT everything else for the day was perfect! So I got a 90% for the day. Again, I'll take it!
So there's finishing that stream. We're on summer break now and I've been enjoying the time off, relaxing, getting things done. but tomorrow it's back to business--transferring to the NY VA, moving forward with my blog, getting things done. thank you for bearing with me! And I humbly as that you become a friend to my site! Thanks! :-)
Tomorrow is the last day of Skills I and then we're on Summer Break for 3.5 weeks! We had the written final today and I feel pretty good about it. I know I got at least 2 wrong, but there are a lot of points out there. So here's hoping.
7/11/10 10:30pm
This page has been sitting on my laptop for days, and I have yet to finish and get it posted. But in my defense, I've been busy jumping on projects and getting errands done. Gracie is all groomed, as well a princess should well be. ;-) My baby comes first! But I just want to get this up before it gets any later.
To finish up what was in the beginning of this post, I DID finish Skills I and I got another A! Well, A-, but I'll take it! I got a 90% on the written final for brains farts, honestly... And on the cooking final, we were to, in 3 hours, make consomme (my nemesis!), Espagnole Sauce (one of the 5 mother sauces), Hollandaise (another other sauce) , green veg (broccoli), white veg (cauliflower)--there are specific ways to cook veggies (heavily salted boiling water for green, boiling water w acid w/ lid on for white)--, and mayonnaise. Mayo is soooo easy!!! But damn the consomme! It was cloudy, AGAIN, so this time I tried to re-clarify. Successfully, I might add, but in the process, I lost my yield... Instead of a quart, I only got a bowl! And in my panic to get it right, I forgot to reheat... so it wasn't up to temp. BUT everything else for the day was perfect! So I got a 90% for the day. Again, I'll take it!
So there's finishing that stream. We're on summer break now and I've been enjoying the time off, relaxing, getting things done. but tomorrow it's back to business--transferring to the NY VA, moving forward with my blog, getting things done. thank you for bearing with me! And I humbly as that you become a friend to my site! Thanks! :-)
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Entering the Finishing Stretch
Good evening! I really do need to start this earlier, but I had to study for my Skills I written final tomorrow. Feeling pretty confident. And the practical exam is 3 hours long on Thursday... Last day for the block and then SUMMER BREAK!!!
Today in class we roasted our last batch of bludgeoned baby cow bones (veal... hehe) for making stock, and the stock mirepoix. No more before break! No more ovens at 500 degrees! And we made #4 out of 5 Mother Sauces, Espagnole, or brown, sauce, and also the contemporary version--Jus de Veau Lie. The former uses roux, and the later uses corn starch. one of the biggest differences. The latter is also fortified with maillard veal. I was excellent on both. Very happy. And with no knife tray, we got out of class way early, which was nice since it was so hot! Oh, and the other four sauces are veloute, bechamel, hollandaise, and tomato. I'll go into those tomorrow after I discuss tomato. We do that in class tomorrow.
So back to Fort Worth...
When last I wrote, Cory seemed better, but it was all smoke and mirrors. He was seeing a new guy and things seemed to be going well. I came home from work on a Wednesday evening and they had just finished eating dinner that they cooked. Cory never cooked. He reheated... And then they got all snuggly on the couch, poking and tickling at each other, giggling like giddy school girls, and then went back to Cory's room and went to bed. Who knew what was to come...
I was off work on Tuesday and Thursday that week, as was Cory by coincidence, and the two of us spent all day on Tuesday cleaning the house. Me on the inside, him on the outside and the yard. And I told him that I was taking Gracie to the groomer on Thursday, so she'd be missing, in case he wondered where she was. I woke up late on Thursday morning, and rushed out the door to get Gracie to her appointment at the groomer by 11am. I planned to drop her off and do some shopping and run errands. I stopped into Williams-Sonoma and bought a 10" Shun Chef Knife on sale (it was still about $150, down from $200), and I was so excited about it that I took it to work to show it off to my coworkers. I remember my friend Devin was so happy for me that she took a picture of me holding my new knife. Then I went upstairs to the office and ran into my friend and boss, Karon and was chatting with her when the call came...
Patrick called my cell, and I sent it to voicemail because I was in a conversation and figured I'd call him back after. Then I got the text telling me to call him 9-1-1... I called him and he told me that something had happened to Cory, but he wasn't sure of the situation, but that he thoughty Cory may have killed himself and that people were trying to reach me. I was standing in a hallway and my boss, hearing me repeating every word, yanked me into the closest office and shut the door.
I asked the questions, Patrick told me what he could; what he knew, and my knees just went out from under me and I hit the floor. Wow, this is hard... Harder than I thought it would be... Bottom line, I needed to head home and sort things out. I needed to get Gracie from the groomer and get home. And as I was trying to get my thoughts back in operational function, everyone was asking if there was anything they could do, could they drive me, do I need them to get Gracie... Then the call came in at work from the police, telling me that Cory was deceased, but they couldn't make a ruling on homicide or suicide until they interviewed me, and could I come home right away. I was in shock, and I had to fight to keep my thoughts together. Everyone was surprised how well I was handling it, but hey--that's what the military did for me--taught me to compartmentalize and get on with the mission. So I hunkered down, got my thoughts together and did what I had to do. Made arrangements at work, called the groomer and told them the situation and that they need to get Gracie done ASAP because I was on my way to pick her up and take her home. It was the longest drive of my life... And I don't remember it...
With that, I'm going to leave you with another cliffhanger for tonight. In the next edition, arriving at home with emergency services and family on the front lawn...
Thank you for reading.
Clear Consommes and Precision Knife Cuts
Today in class we roasted our last batch of bludgeoned baby cow bones (veal... hehe) for making stock, and the stock mirepoix. No more before break! No more ovens at 500 degrees! And we made #4 out of 5 Mother Sauces, Espagnole, or brown, sauce, and also the contemporary version--Jus de Veau Lie. The former uses roux, and the later uses corn starch. one of the biggest differences. The latter is also fortified with maillard veal. I was excellent on both. Very happy. And with no knife tray, we got out of class way early, which was nice since it was so hot! Oh, and the other four sauces are veloute, bechamel, hollandaise, and tomato. I'll go into those tomorrow after I discuss tomato. We do that in class tomorrow.
So back to Fort Worth...
When last I wrote, Cory seemed better, but it was all smoke and mirrors. He was seeing a new guy and things seemed to be going well. I came home from work on a Wednesday evening and they had just finished eating dinner that they cooked. Cory never cooked. He reheated... And then they got all snuggly on the couch, poking and tickling at each other, giggling like giddy school girls, and then went back to Cory's room and went to bed. Who knew what was to come...
I was off work on Tuesday and Thursday that week, as was Cory by coincidence, and the two of us spent all day on Tuesday cleaning the house. Me on the inside, him on the outside and the yard. And I told him that I was taking Gracie to the groomer on Thursday, so she'd be missing, in case he wondered where she was. I woke up late on Thursday morning, and rushed out the door to get Gracie to her appointment at the groomer by 11am. I planned to drop her off and do some shopping and run errands. I stopped into Williams-Sonoma and bought a 10" Shun Chef Knife on sale (it was still about $150, down from $200), and I was so excited about it that I took it to work to show it off to my coworkers. I remember my friend Devin was so happy for me that she took a picture of me holding my new knife. Then I went upstairs to the office and ran into my friend and boss, Karon and was chatting with her when the call came...
Patrick called my cell, and I sent it to voicemail because I was in a conversation and figured I'd call him back after. Then I got the text telling me to call him 9-1-1... I called him and he told me that something had happened to Cory, but he wasn't sure of the situation, but that he thoughty Cory may have killed himself and that people were trying to reach me. I was standing in a hallway and my boss, hearing me repeating every word, yanked me into the closest office and shut the door.
I asked the questions, Patrick told me what he could; what he knew, and my knees just went out from under me and I hit the floor. Wow, this is hard... Harder than I thought it would be... Bottom line, I needed to head home and sort things out. I needed to get Gracie from the groomer and get home. And as I was trying to get my thoughts back in operational function, everyone was asking if there was anything they could do, could they drive me, do I need them to get Gracie... Then the call came in at work from the police, telling me that Cory was deceased, but they couldn't make a ruling on homicide or suicide until they interviewed me, and could I come home right away. I was in shock, and I had to fight to keep my thoughts together. Everyone was surprised how well I was handling it, but hey--that's what the military did for me--taught me to compartmentalize and get on with the mission. So I hunkered down, got my thoughts together and did what I had to do. Made arrangements at work, called the groomer and told them the situation and that they need to get Gracie done ASAP because I was on my way to pick her up and take her home. It was the longest drive of my life... And I don't remember it...
With that, I'm going to leave you with another cliffhanger for tonight. In the next edition, arriving at home with emergency services and family on the front lawn...
Thank you for reading.
Clear Consommes and Precision Knife Cuts
The Story of Fort Worth
So last we were together, I left you with a cliffhanger of a story about living in Fort Worth for a year. I left San Antonio just get get away from there. I was stagnant, stalled, stale, stuck in a rut... I felt trapped. When I made the decision to go to culinary school, I felt like I had awaked from a coma that I had lasted for the previous three years... And with no money, no job, and a mountain of debt, I packed up Gracie, my clothes, my kitchen, my dvd collection, and my memorabilia, sold off everything that I could, and either donated the rest to Goodwill or the dumpster. I gave notice on my apartment and advance notice at both of my jobs (Sales Leader at Bath and Body Works and Sales Associate at Ann Taylor Loft... Ugh!). I told my friends that I was leaving but they didn't believe me. Until they got the invitation to my going away party, that is... Then they said I wouldn't be gone long, and that I'd be back. I went back once for my friend, John's birthday back in January...
So I hit the road to Fort Worth. Why there? I was looking into Le Cordon Bleu in Dallas, and my best friend, Phil, lives in Fort Worth. It was my escape route. So Phil and his pops came down to help me move, but I ended up having more stuff than I thought and we had to come back a couple of weeks alter with a U-Haul.
So I arrived in Fort Worth, move in with Phil and his family (thanks again!) and get a job at Central Market in the Chef's Case as a server--schlepping potato salad for a piddance of a wage and taken advantage of by management. Central Market is a gourmet grocery store similar to Whole Foods, but local to Texas. Roof over my head--check. Job with income--check. It was then time to look into culinary school. As it turns out there are a few culinary schools in the DFW Metroplex, so I looked at the biggies--Le Cordon Bleu, like I mentioned, but also the Art Institute of Dallas. In doing my research, and speaking with co-workers, I discovered The Culinary Institute of America, the Harvard of culinary schools. Comparing the programs at the three, and with my restaurant empire in mind, I knew I had attend The Culinary. It has the Bachelor's degree, which encompasses both cooking and restaurant management. And carrying the repuation that it has, and having it's military heritage, it was the only choice for me.
So all of that aside, back to the drama! I know that's what you want... So I came home one day and Phil and his wife tell me that "we need to talk..." I thought, "crap, they're kicking me out." Well yeah, kinda--they sold the house and we needed to be out by the end of the week! They said I could go with them, but that at the new rental, Gracie would have to stay outside. Gracie is a Princess and an indoor girl... And there was no way I could leave her outside in the Fort Worth heat. She's an Irish breed... Cold weather... So I placed an add to rent a room and got two responses. And so starts the drama...
I moved in with one guy, renting a room for only $250/month for a room and full use of the house. Nice kitchen, big flat-screen tv, fenced-in yard... and I could afford it! It was also closer to work then the other guy. They say, never look a gift horse in the mouth. YES YOU SHOULD! The rent was cheap, because dude was expecting rent in "other forms of payment," shall we say... I only lived there for three weeks. Dude had a revolving door on his bedroom! And he was short, fat, and NOT attractive... Summer teeth... Thing was a pile of molten drama...
While living there, someone smashed out the rear window of my car. Trying to save money, I raised my deductibles to $1k, so my SafeLite wouldn't cover it. I'd have had to pay out of pocket, almost $400. So I went to a junk yard, bought the glass for cheap and they guy installed it. Poorly. Didn't connect the defogger and it leaks in two places. Still today... So I need to find a glass place to remove and re-install the rear window correctly.
So after three weeks, I was still talking to the other guy with a room for rent, and it was still available. It was a little more and a little further from work, but he wasn't trying to get into my pants, either... So in one day, I packed up, left a check and keys on the counter, shouldered stuff in to the truck as hard as I could, and I made a run for it like a battered woman... Couldn't get out fast enough...
Enter Cory and Patrick.
I moved into Cory's house, renting the third bedroom. Patrick was in the other bedroom. They were already friends, and I fit right in. Gay, fabulous, and quirky... We all worked long hours, usually evenings or nights. It worked. It was nice and comfortable. Until it wasn't... Patrick didn't have a car and Cory and/or I, or his co-workers were giving him rides to work, 20 minutes away, one way... I like helping friends out, and he was giving me gas money, but I was just so tired from work and didn't want to leave the house. Eventually, I had to say something... And he bought a car. And started dating Dennis. And up and moved out becuase he coudn't afford the rent... It was kinda off-putting, but I understood why. That was in October. He was done moving out around Halloween. Then came the Cory tragedy...
Cory was having boy drama, especially with one in particular. Patrick and I both thought that this kid was bad news for Cory, but he seemed to be a semi-permanent fixture when it was convenient. Well, I guess that FINALLY ended around the same time that Patirck moved out and Cory was very depressed. I came home from work one Friday night and Cory's truck was in the driveway, but all the lights were off. I thought that was strange, so I started looking around the house and found Cory laying under a pile of clothes on the floor in his closet in the dark... Wimpering... I also found a pile of muscle relaxers, anti-depressants, and other various pills in a pile on the bathroom counter... I flushed them, tried to get Cory to talk and he did, but I was so angry at this stunt... I was on suicide watch all night. The police showed up twice because evidently Cory was texting goodbye-type messages to his friends and family who lived an hour away.
The next morning, a close family friend came and picked up Cory and convinced him to check himself into a psych ward for help. He was there Saturday through Thursday. I went and visited him on Wednesday while he was in and he was all jokes and smiles, telling me he was on new meds that were helping a lot, and he had exercises to do for when felt a depression coming on. So he came home, went back to work the next week, and seemed fine. Working, repainting the hallway, started seeing a new guy who seemed very sweet... Like he was finally in a good place. That was all smoke and mirrors...
To be continued... ;-)
So I hit the road to Fort Worth. Why there? I was looking into Le Cordon Bleu in Dallas, and my best friend, Phil, lives in Fort Worth. It was my escape route. So Phil and his pops came down to help me move, but I ended up having more stuff than I thought and we had to come back a couple of weeks alter with a U-Haul.
So I arrived in Fort Worth, move in with Phil and his family (thanks again!) and get a job at Central Market in the Chef's Case as a server--schlepping potato salad for a piddance of a wage and taken advantage of by management. Central Market is a gourmet grocery store similar to Whole Foods, but local to Texas. Roof over my head--check. Job with income--check. It was then time to look into culinary school. As it turns out there are a few culinary schools in the DFW Metroplex, so I looked at the biggies--Le Cordon Bleu, like I mentioned, but also the Art Institute of Dallas. In doing my research, and speaking with co-workers, I discovered The Culinary Institute of America, the Harvard of culinary schools. Comparing the programs at the three, and with my restaurant empire in mind, I knew I had attend The Culinary. It has the Bachelor's degree, which encompasses both cooking and restaurant management. And carrying the repuation that it has, and having it's military heritage, it was the only choice for me.
So all of that aside, back to the drama! I know that's what you want... So I came home one day and Phil and his wife tell me that "we need to talk..." I thought, "crap, they're kicking me out." Well yeah, kinda--they sold the house and we needed to be out by the end of the week! They said I could go with them, but that at the new rental, Gracie would have to stay outside. Gracie is a Princess and an indoor girl... And there was no way I could leave her outside in the Fort Worth heat. She's an Irish breed... Cold weather... So I placed an add to rent a room and got two responses. And so starts the drama...
I moved in with one guy, renting a room for only $250/month for a room and full use of the house. Nice kitchen, big flat-screen tv, fenced-in yard... and I could afford it! It was also closer to work then the other guy. They say, never look a gift horse in the mouth. YES YOU SHOULD! The rent was cheap, because dude was expecting rent in "other forms of payment," shall we say... I only lived there for three weeks. Dude had a revolving door on his bedroom! And he was short, fat, and NOT attractive... Summer teeth... Thing was a pile of molten drama...
While living there, someone smashed out the rear window of my car. Trying to save money, I raised my deductibles to $1k, so my SafeLite wouldn't cover it. I'd have had to pay out of pocket, almost $400. So I went to a junk yard, bought the glass for cheap and they guy installed it. Poorly. Didn't connect the defogger and it leaks in two places. Still today... So I need to find a glass place to remove and re-install the rear window correctly.
So after three weeks, I was still talking to the other guy with a room for rent, and it was still available. It was a little more and a little further from work, but he wasn't trying to get into my pants, either... So in one day, I packed up, left a check and keys on the counter, shouldered stuff in to the truck as hard as I could, and I made a run for it like a battered woman... Couldn't get out fast enough...
Enter Cory and Patrick.
I moved into Cory's house, renting the third bedroom. Patrick was in the other bedroom. They were already friends, and I fit right in. Gay, fabulous, and quirky... We all worked long hours, usually evenings or nights. It worked. It was nice and comfortable. Until it wasn't... Patrick didn't have a car and Cory and/or I, or his co-workers were giving him rides to work, 20 minutes away, one way... I like helping friends out, and he was giving me gas money, but I was just so tired from work and didn't want to leave the house. Eventually, I had to say something... And he bought a car. And started dating Dennis. And up and moved out becuase he coudn't afford the rent... It was kinda off-putting, but I understood why. That was in October. He was done moving out around Halloween. Then came the Cory tragedy...
Cory was having boy drama, especially with one in particular. Patrick and I both thought that this kid was bad news for Cory, but he seemed to be a semi-permanent fixture when it was convenient. Well, I guess that FINALLY ended around the same time that Patirck moved out and Cory was very depressed. I came home from work one Friday night and Cory's truck was in the driveway, but all the lights were off. I thought that was strange, so I started looking around the house and found Cory laying under a pile of clothes on the floor in his closet in the dark... Wimpering... I also found a pile of muscle relaxers, anti-depressants, and other various pills in a pile on the bathroom counter... I flushed them, tried to get Cory to talk and he did, but I was so angry at this stunt... I was on suicide watch all night. The police showed up twice because evidently Cory was texting goodbye-type messages to his friends and family who lived an hour away.
The next morning, a close family friend came and picked up Cory and convinced him to check himself into a psych ward for help. He was there Saturday through Thursday. I went and visited him on Wednesday while he was in and he was all jokes and smiles, telling me he was on new meds that were helping a lot, and he had exercises to do for when felt a depression coming on. So he came home, went back to work the next week, and seemed fine. Working, repainting the hallway, started seeing a new guy who seemed very sweet... Like he was finally in a good place. That was all smoke and mirrors...
To be continued... ;-)
Monday, July 5, 2010
Knife Tray Practical Day
Good evening all!
I apologize for being so tardy for the party, but it was a loooong, and HOT day! But all in all, it was a successful day at school. We had our knife tray practical exam and I got a 100%! The knife tray, for those who don't know and have asked, consists of the following cuts:
Mince a shallot, 3 cloves of garlic, and and small bunch of flat parsley.
Concasse 2 tomatoes. That is to first core the stem end and then score the opposite end with a small X. Drop into boiling water until the skin cracks, and then drop right into an ice bath This shocks the tomato and makes peeling the skin very easy. Then you cut into a rough chop.
After that, cut 2 onions: 1 into 1/8" slices, and the other into 1/4" dice.
And then the really hard part... The dreaded potatoes... We had to cut a medium dice or 1/2" cubes, Batonet of 1/4"x1/4"x2-2.5" (think McD's fries), Alumet Julienne of 1/8"x1/8"x2-2.5" (Alumet Julienne is for potatoes. Fine Julienne is for other veggies, which is 1/16"...), and finally Brunoise which is 1/8" cubes. The Mid Dice is the hardest! Probably because you have too much room for error...
Finally, making a sachet d'epice--parsley stem, thyme, bay leaf, cracked black peppercorn, and a clove of garlic tied up in a cheese cloth, which is used as an aromatic for soups, sauces, etc. So easy and flavorful!
And that's knife tray. We started at a time limit of 1 hr, 20 minutes, and the test today was only 45 minutes. Perfect score! I was so happy.
While doing that, we had to make our second consomme, and again, mine was cloudy... The draw back of the day... But then I made my first mayonnaise and hollandaise sauces from scratch! Who knew it was so easy! I mean, it's tricky, but once you get it, you get it. And mine were perfect! I was honored when Chef used my hollandaise as an example for color, viscosity, flavor... And I now have a new appreciation for hollandaise. I never liked it before...
So that was the day. I promised you a continuation of the Year in Fort Worth, but I'm so worn out after the day I had... I work in the computer lab in the morning, so I plan to write again then. Thanks for your patience!
Clear Consommes and Precision Knife Cuts!
I apologize for being so tardy for the party, but it was a loooong, and HOT day! But all in all, it was a successful day at school. We had our knife tray practical exam and I got a 100%! The knife tray, for those who don't know and have asked, consists of the following cuts:
Mince a shallot, 3 cloves of garlic, and and small bunch of flat parsley.
Concasse 2 tomatoes. That is to first core the stem end and then score the opposite end with a small X. Drop into boiling water until the skin cracks, and then drop right into an ice bath This shocks the tomato and makes peeling the skin very easy. Then you cut into a rough chop.
After that, cut 2 onions: 1 into 1/8" slices, and the other into 1/4" dice.
And then the really hard part... The dreaded potatoes... We had to cut a medium dice or 1/2" cubes, Batonet of 1/4"x1/4"x2-2.5" (think McD's fries), Alumet Julienne of 1/8"x1/8"x2-2.5" (Alumet Julienne is for potatoes. Fine Julienne is for other veggies, which is 1/16"...), and finally Brunoise which is 1/8" cubes. The Mid Dice is the hardest! Probably because you have too much room for error...
Finally, making a sachet d'epice--parsley stem, thyme, bay leaf, cracked black peppercorn, and a clove of garlic tied up in a cheese cloth, which is used as an aromatic for soups, sauces, etc. So easy and flavorful!
And that's knife tray. We started at a time limit of 1 hr, 20 minutes, and the test today was only 45 minutes. Perfect score! I was so happy.
While doing that, we had to make our second consomme, and again, mine was cloudy... The draw back of the day... But then I made my first mayonnaise and hollandaise sauces from scratch! Who knew it was so easy! I mean, it's tricky, but once you get it, you get it. And mine were perfect! I was honored when Chef used my hollandaise as an example for color, viscosity, flavor... And I now have a new appreciation for hollandaise. I never liked it before...
So that was the day. I promised you a continuation of the Year in Fort Worth, but I'm so worn out after the day I had... I work in the computer lab in the morning, so I plan to write again then. Thanks for your patience!
Clear Consommes and Precision Knife Cuts!
Sunday, July 4, 2010
HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMERICA!
It's the 4th of July and I'm loading my first official entry after getting my blog up. So welcome to my little corner of the internet and thank you for stopping by! Feel free to leave comments, check out the ads and links, and generally explore my site!
My name is Derek Smith, and I'm a student at The Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, NY. There's more about me in my bio profile, so feel free to check it out! The purpose of my blog is to entertain, educate, vent, chat, and generally have a place to dialogue. An online journal open to the public, if you will. But mainly, it's to document my education at the world's greatest culinary school.
My destination: graduating first with the Associate's of Occupational Science in Culinary Arts, and then the Bachelor's of Professional Studies. The difference--the AOS is all of the cooking classes. After that, you go into the BPS program for the restaurant management classes. The ultimate goal: a restaurant empire coast to coast! By the way, I already have one Associate's degree in aircraft maintenance from the Community College of the Air Force, and I also have a BA/BS in Communications and a BA in English from Norwich University in Vermont, the nation's oldest private military university, almost 200 years old.
There will be three tiers--fine dining, family accessible, and a cafe/bistro/coffee house/wine bar type place. The top two tiers will be similar in concept, while the cafe will stand alone. I have an original concept that hit me like a ton of bricks in the middle of the night, the middle of the week, the middle of March of 2009... But I'll go into that in a second. For the restaurants, I've got the names picked out, chosen the cities in which I want to be, and a notebook full of ideas jotted down on menu items, decor, service, chain of command, the whole nine yards, and it evolves frequently.
The whole thing started when I was working 2 thankless retail jobs 12-13 hrs a day, 6 days a week. All I wanted to do when I got home, after walking Gracie, is jump in the kitchen and cook. So I'd throw in a dvd, pour a glass of wine, fire up the stove and start cooking--all 4 burners and 3 pans in the oven. I'd cook for hours without breaking a sweat, and when something was done cooking I'd put it in storage containers, wash out the pot and start round two. The next thing I knew it was five ours later, I'd cooked everything in the house, and the fridge was full of Tupperware!
On this particular night, it was coming up on 1 am, and I was texting my best friend, Phil, and this original concept came to me. Don't ask me what... Trade secret... But I bounced the idea off of Phil and he liked it. So I, for all intents and purposes, gave my notice on both jobs and my apartment pretty much the next day and that was it. I was going to culinary school. I didn't know about CIA at that time, just Le Cordon Bleu, of which there was one in Dallas. Phil lives in Fort Worth, so there was the exit strategy in place. I had no money, a mountain of debt, no job lined up, and I just packed up and left. My friends in San Antonio didn't believe that I was really going to go... But I was gone to Fort Worth for the next year. What happened in Fort Worth was, well, an amazing roller coaster...
But it's late tonight, so I'm going to get off of here, and if you've read this far, I thank you for staying with me! The story of Fort Worth and the path to getting to The Culinary is still to follow... So tune in Monday evening for the next installment!
Clear consommes and precision knife cuts!
My name is Derek Smith, and I'm a student at The Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, NY. There's more about me in my bio profile, so feel free to check it out! The purpose of my blog is to entertain, educate, vent, chat, and generally have a place to dialogue. An online journal open to the public, if you will. But mainly, it's to document my education at the world's greatest culinary school.
My destination: graduating first with the Associate's of Occupational Science in Culinary Arts, and then the Bachelor's of Professional Studies. The difference--the AOS is all of the cooking classes. After that, you go into the BPS program for the restaurant management classes. The ultimate goal: a restaurant empire coast to coast! By the way, I already have one Associate's degree in aircraft maintenance from the Community College of the Air Force, and I also have a BA/BS in Communications and a BA in English from Norwich University in Vermont, the nation's oldest private military university, almost 200 years old.
There will be three tiers--fine dining, family accessible, and a cafe/bistro/coffee house/wine bar type place. The top two tiers will be similar in concept, while the cafe will stand alone. I have an original concept that hit me like a ton of bricks in the middle of the night, the middle of the week, the middle of March of 2009... But I'll go into that in a second. For the restaurants, I've got the names picked out, chosen the cities in which I want to be, and a notebook full of ideas jotted down on menu items, decor, service, chain of command, the whole nine yards, and it evolves frequently.
The whole thing started when I was working 2 thankless retail jobs 12-13 hrs a day, 6 days a week. All I wanted to do when I got home, after walking Gracie, is jump in the kitchen and cook. So I'd throw in a dvd, pour a glass of wine, fire up the stove and start cooking--all 4 burners and 3 pans in the oven. I'd cook for hours without breaking a sweat, and when something was done cooking I'd put it in storage containers, wash out the pot and start round two. The next thing I knew it was five ours later, I'd cooked everything in the house, and the fridge was full of Tupperware!
On this particular night, it was coming up on 1 am, and I was texting my best friend, Phil, and this original concept came to me. Don't ask me what... Trade secret... But I bounced the idea off of Phil and he liked it. So I, for all intents and purposes, gave my notice on both jobs and my apartment pretty much the next day and that was it. I was going to culinary school. I didn't know about CIA at that time, just Le Cordon Bleu, of which there was one in Dallas. Phil lives in Fort Worth, so there was the exit strategy in place. I had no money, a mountain of debt, no job lined up, and I just packed up and left. My friends in San Antonio didn't believe that I was really going to go... But I was gone to Fort Worth for the next year. What happened in Fort Worth was, well, an amazing roller coaster...
But it's late tonight, so I'm going to get off of here, and if you've read this far, I thank you for staying with me! The story of Fort Worth and the path to getting to The Culinary is still to follow... So tune in Monday evening for the next installment!
Clear consommes and precision knife cuts!
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