- Ironing is as important as knife skills.
The dress code at my school is fairly strict: no wrinkles in your uniform, no polish on your nails, no jewelry anywhere. Over the past four days, I’ve been attached to my ironing board trying to maintain that first rule. I’ll be graded on knife skills three times in the next six weeks, but I’ll be graded on my uniform everyday. The constant ironing is a time suck, but there is an up side. In a few weeks, I’ll be able to chop an onion lighting fast and look damn good doing it.
- I need to up my braiding game.
Another aspect of my uniform is a dandy little white hat. Policy states that I either have to keep my hair inside the skull-cap or at the nape of my neck. Since my head is huge and my hair is unruly, braids have become my best friend. So far, I’ve copied Princess Leia’s hair from The Empire Strikes Back*. It works for now, but my scalp aches from being pulled up the same way everyday. I need to trade secrets with those cute redheads from Tangled. Now, those girls knew what they were doing.
- How to tie a tie.
In addition to the hat, wrinkle free jacket and pants, my uniform also requires I wear a cravat. For those who are too
lazybusy to Google it, the cravat looks like one of Rhett Butler’s** ascots. Tying the cravat is just like tying a regular neck tie, only you tuck in the tails to create a super formal yet oddly bulbous look.
- I know I’m in the right place.
Sure the uniform is intense, and I can only paint my nails on weekends, but I am so happy. For the first six weeks of class, I’ll learn culinary basics, a.k.a no baking. I know this time is important and necessary, but I am itching to get into my pastry classes. I get giddy when I open my pastry book and see all the beautiful things I will soon learn to make. I impatiently shake my leg in class, as I count down the days to Intro to Baking. I’ve never experienced this uncontrollable excitement when it comes to school before, and that’s how I know I’m finally in the right place.
*Personal Admission #4: No, that picture doesn’t showcase her hair very well, but it does feature a brooding Han Solo, which I felt this blog was sorely lacking in.
**Personal Admission #5: Rhett Butler was my first love. He was 40 something and fictional. I was 11 and thought it could still work.