I must somewhere still give a shit about being a chef, against all logic. Cheffing looks like a rude existence lived amidst hot objects, angry people and things that cut, burn and maim.
I'm not planning on being a TV chef. It just won't happen. I haven't got the boobs for it, I don't drop enough F-bombs and there's no prestigious cooking school shoving me forward.
I also have a complete lack of comprehension as to how TV producers think; just a vague suspicion that any hint of intelligence is taboo. The Gecko might not approve. A TV person could see it in my eyes: that look of complete lack of understanding that can only come from meeting someone with absolutely no thought patterns in common with mine. ET would be more familiar, more accessible.
So, due to a combination of previously unknown masochism coupled with profound lack of logic, I'm still going to finish the culinary arts program.
I'm not, however, going to limit this blog to food related topics. Don't worry. Posts about cute cats, adorable puppies and belly dancers won't suddenly take over. Comments about how badly managed everything is getting will. Speculation on the effects of technology might sit next to a quick blurb on pâte feuilleté.
So, read on...