I Confess

A Chef’s Cooking Confession

Let it be known that I am a professional chef. I still make minor mistakes every once in a while, but nothing to write home about.

However, back in my college days, before I became serious about becoming a chef, I had quite a few cooking adventures that I’m not eager to confess openly.

I went to college in Texas, which is known for its intense summer heat. One summer it was so bad that the air conditioner broke in the apartment I was sharing with a friend, and since we were poor college kids, we couldn’t do much about it.

Another friend was hosting a birthday party for her boyfriend, who happened to be a really good friend of mine. She asked everyone to bring some food for the party so that she didn’t have to make a lot. Being the budding cook that I was, I decided to be ambitious and make a pork tenderloin and a side dish.

I called her the night before to complain about the 100-degree heat and make sure she was still alright with me bringing a pork tenderloin. “Of course,” she said. “You know that’s going to be the only meat at the party, right?”

Uh, what about everyone else bringing a dish to pass? I guess she had assumed I meant I’d make this for everyone (10-15 people) rather than as one option among other meat dishes. The meat that I had would feed about four people, if that.

Being the macho man that I was, I said it would be fine. Then I hung up the phone and panicked. It was 11pm, so everything was closed. Besides, I was tired from working all day and the heat was oppressive.

Thankfully, I managed to dig out a large package of chicken breasts from the freezer. (I know, sounds a bit more sophisticated than most college guys, but I was into cooking, what do you expect? I thought it might impress a girl at some point.).

I poured myself a drink and cranked up the radio while getting all of my ingredients prepared. I was feeling confident and convinced that this would be no big deal.

I spiced the pork and popped in in the 400-degree oven while the chicken was defrosting in the microwave. I was also cooking a bunch of vegetable on the stove for the side dish. Multi-tasking is obviously the easiest way to get things done, right?

Somehow the alarm went off for the pork right when the vegetables were done and the microwave was beeping for the chicken. I didn’t really plan ahead – I shoved the vegetables on a back burner and pulled the pork out of the oven with a towel. (Even I didn’t own oven mitts).

Since the air conditioner wasn’t on, the fire alarm went off, which added to my stress of wanting to get everything done. I quickly pulled the chicken out of the microwave, but in realizing I had no counter space, I decided to move the pan with the pork on it.

Somehow I thought it would be ok to pick up a 400-degree pan with my bare hand. In an instant I felt sheer pain, dropped the chicken on the floor and stared at my hand, now covered in blisters. I nearly threw up.

Who knows what might have happened had my roommate not walked in a few minutes later to hear the fire alarm still buzzing and see me lying on the floor in a dizzy, tired stupor clutching my hand.

Well, I didn’t go to the party. I think my roommate called and said I was sick. They must have ordered pizza, because my dish certainly didn’t make it to the party.

Moral of the story: Don’t cook when you’re in a hurry, or you’re incredibly tired, or in 100-degree heat. You might get second degree burns on your hands and ruin your hopes of impressing girls at a party with your cooking.

-Joseph Morris

Joseph Morris has been a professional chef for over 20 years. He also owns the site http://www.culinaryartscollege.org a Culinary Arts College for students interested in getting a degree in culinary arts.

Dudes and dolls, go to his site!

Nicotine Dream #5: That Got Me Over

It was a wild one.

Everyone got stuck on trains. For days and my ex-boyfriend's was ahead of ours, my peers', and we were starving so we put all of our rotten food in my "Playschool" compartment. Everyone on my train was my age. The train after ours was one year younger and I kept wondering about those on the two years after. Our train was a bright color. Probably purple. And so all of the rotting food in my train spot was to lure any rats that might be around so we could catch them and kill them.

I think we were only stuck on that moving train for two days but I am sure we would have eaten the rat raw. But I was so upset that I had to be the rotting one so I went to the train ahead with the one-year-older folk. Brinni helped me jump the gap. She said sweetly, "the moving ground is moving out of the way so you can jump." That got me over. And my ex-boyfriend was there looking so sullen and I felt awful. So I jumped off. Braved the fall.

And then everyone was let go. We went back to school, all thankful for soda machines and the feeling of the ground below us. Directly below us.

I went straight to Tate's class. Joe was there bitching. Complaining about the class and the work he has to do. And I waited my turn to show Tate I got my work done even though everyone, even he I think, went through that tragedy. And Tate was so frustrated with Joe that he yelled:

GO HOME, LOVE YOUR LOVED ONES

did you learn nothing from this at all?

What is this but a distraction from what you really must be doing?

I ran out, even left my notebook behind and went straight to everyone I loved. Not many were home but I found Mario and we hugged like there was a Great Flood and we both survived it.

__

Who would put all the people in the world on trains?

Avoidance #3: "Umpteenth"

hold out as long as you can (tighten shoulder blades)

occupy your fingers//keeps the periods coming.

...we must perpetuate the ellipses. I fear that at the pause

I will drop. "rationale" without. policeman flashlight

trunk rumble = can't stoic any

longer

(sunrise, light more) (obscure less) I can't be caught

in front of you that way...without an excuse. to simply say "no"

"no, because." "Just because." "Because it is right."

Time: Set the Bones. Crack in place, you do care.

in a hammock because I don't like the pressure

of earth pushing up at me. Putting me on the spot.

"I just don't have a good feeling about it."

Manifest Destiny #2

1. starlet back on the stage,

couldn't help but perform a

monologue she heard last night.

2. KINETIC (mostly.) A door still warm from being closed--

FLUST open (completely: BUMP against steel trailer wall, blips forward,

like a car rear ending on an uphill curb, parking on it--parallel, at least trying.)

"What was that?" the red haired one asked.

Blonde puts ungloved hand on hip. She always used the wrong word when narrators described her actions. She indolably says, "that's art, Henna."

STALE huffs, pause on the cot, arms sore from hours of unpredicted spotlight FOLLOWS.

Thinking on her toes (Blonde took out the third act to SPEW

everything Henna told her over

too many tall pints of capsizing beers.) HURT,

she spoke towards her reassuring gaze,

of the family she once had.

"Mae, what if the family was here?"

"They'd never know I was talking about them. It's heartbreak every one goes through."

"Like how every one has eaten an orange," BITTER.

"Look, you didn't say, 'baby, please don't use this for inspired monologues.'"

"Baby? I'd never--whatever.

I told you everything. Everything. Because I thought it was understood that I was speaking with trust."

Blonde leans against tin wall with the cut-out window that overlooked

a big ole tent COLLAPSE--many half-costumed circus folk GRIMACE.

...

Henna continues, "What if I got on the mic and told every one about Marsh." BELOVED.

"It is the past," SHARP.

"It is the past."

STORM, "Nothing means--"

anything to you.

OUT.

Avoidance #2: Car Man

When I was 8 I threw pebbles at a car with Amanda outside my red-doored house and the car

stopped. Started backing up. Amanda didn't know I threw pebbles and

I bolted right back into the house. She didn't know to follow me right away.

"HEY! WHERE YOU GOING?!"

I didn't answer her with anything more than the front red door slamming behind me.

She could have been ran over by a peeved motoritarian. I thought it'd be funny to throw rocks.

Avoidance #1: Morgan Spurloch

"Kristin, tell Alex who you met!"

"Spurloff--what? Yes, oh. Hmm. Do you know Fastfood Nation?"

"Huh-uh," Alex says.

"Supersize me?"

"Nope."

What.

"Oh, well, okay. He is a documentarian who changed the entire world and you need to internet more because this guy is the reason middle class children are a little less unhealthy."

I didn't say that. But mostly, yes, that is how I introduced this:

"I met Spurloch with my documentary class and after our Q & A session we shook his hand. The three guys in front of me all said, 'thank you, nice to meet you' and the only girl in the class, me, said, 'thank you. You are a rising star.' Spurloch just said, 'oh...kay.' And I'm pretty sure my professor who I am entirely afraid of heard me.

I walked out quickly, didn't make eye contact with anyone and waited at the top of the stairs for Kevin who I begged to come even though he was sick. I couldn't walk into Spurloch's greatest lecture ever told alone."

This post is dedicated to Kevin V. Garfoot for without whom I would have died.

Manifest Destiny #1

P: Can we spend lunch making out?
K: Sure, what state are you in?
P: MD.
K: Okay. Open your mouth towards the West. I'll stick my tongue out towards the East."

upboating

I will continue to treat every single one with great disavowal

chased with affection as tough as whale meat

and never again will they go sailing.

I really don't mean to be vague

We are taught since grade school

(social learning theory ) that if you

like someone you must hurt them, cause

them to doubt, doubt, doubt if they will

ever get a song written about them.

And then there is that day where being sweet

is sweet and being mean is mean and when did that

switch happen? I've fallen behind I believe

but believe me! this fishing thing is not exciting to me either.

"rubbing my bald spots"

Floating on weary nights

Surfing past neon bars and

O

b Street

e Lights.

l

i

s

k

They shroud the

City

Like some night

I might.

But that's not today

And I hope like that it stays.

I was born into this Chili-Pot

Culture, which means

I was born

Two years

too late.

So, Bar Keep!, I says,

Gimme a three-in-one,

Straight.

I've had too many rocks in my shoes

To have them sitting in my drinks.

But Nope. Not tonight, Pal.

I'm sorry your sorrows just ain't that great...

Its nothing against you,

You was just born

Two years

Too

late.

-Mario ViraLOBOS, II

how many eighth notes will it take to get to the core of just how much sleep I'm willing to miss?

1. Awake.
2. Damnit, I was having such a nice dream to. What time is it? 4 A.M., you kiddin’ me? I put up with enough of this bullshit at work, I don’t need it here.
3. Shit.
4. Who’s making that noise? They need to shut up, I swear to god.
5. Wait.
6. Is that music? Singing?
7. Bullshit.
8. Wait.
9. …
10. It’s not bad actually. Maybe something I could go to sleep to.
11. Shit I know this song too! Grandma used to sing it to me when I had a bad day. I never knew what she was saying though, that respirator wasn’t too kind to her. Come to think of it, neither was I. Too many Darth Vader jokes.
12. Music! This is not music. Music is mental filler for commuters between work and home. This is the creation of a muse or a… a… an angel. This is incredible.
13. I can almost see her. Maybe if I open the window more…
14. You are beautiful! Your beauty could make the morning come early!
15. Woman, you created a new emotion.
16. An emotion that is not logged in the books.
17. An emotion that not even a 1950’s broadcaster could emulate.
18. What are you? Did I even awake?
19. I need to say something.
20. I try not to make a habit of asking angels for favors, but those halos are too inviting.
21. I need to say something.
22. 4 A.M is no longer a time, it’s a state of mind.
23. I need to say something.
24. Yes. I can’t explain what she is stirring in me, but I have to try.
25. She needs to know.
26. It’s 4 A.M.
27. I need to say.
28. She needs to know.
29. Alright woman, I hope you hear me, but more importantly, I hope you know…
30. …
31. …
32. “HEY WOMAN…shut the fuck up! It’s 4 in the fuckin’ A.M. and I need some sleep damnit! I get enough of this shit at work and I don’t need it here….shit…”
33. …
34. I sigh.
35. She cries.
36. I lay down.
37. She’s now away.
38. She needed to know.
39. Finally, some fucking sleep.

-post by someone I forgot to ask if they wanted to be anonymous or what

HE/SHE/WE

Let's call this city a "HE"
and this HE holds a trident to my throat
(but it's quite invisible. So, I seem
to be chin-high.)

and I came from a "SHE"
and this SHE really just pushed down on my shoulders
I would mostly knock back at those hands
-- to be wound so taut.

Here I am twinkly: there I was eating pie.
And everywhere made me wonder what would marry me
not sure if I prefer the cold glow or a subtle pull of the hearts.

Those quickenings whisper, "go to where the people say to their mothers:
this girl, if you ever met her, would show you that she had more love in her
than even labrador puppies."

two things in this life: death and friendship

1. I saw these four friends, enveloping each other

(mostly like a people paper chain is full of individuals
but those individuals don't have their own hands so you don't
ever, ever know where to cut them apart
if you wanted to cut them apart
you'd probably do that down the middle
but why would you want to?)

in a pew for three individuals and when that pastor
up front who read annie sexton poetry like the world
was going to rear end into another planet
and this collision would eliminate the spoken word forever:
he spoke about friendship being a spiritual discipline
and how one lifelong friend is much,
two is many
and three is nearly impossible.

My first thought was,
when will this forged group of loved ones split up?
I hoped not soon.
Then I hoped never: I wished they would continue to be
kind to each other. To eliminate sarcasm,
want,
jealousy,
and false smiles.

And I think the ideal death would include everyone I loved
laughing at my fits, sweet tooth, and heavy assertions
about the TRUTHS of the WORLD
and their collective last words would be:
"duh."
"You can tell us you think we are stupid asses."
"Because we have seen you with spaghetti all about your breast."
"And sometimes it sucks that you're so even tempered."
"Just fucking tell us already."

A shark would shred my abdomen and I would smile.
Probably would not have enough time to point out their flaws
but ain't no big thing
because I have friends and they have me.

2. I hear this buddy of mine say something behind me.
Nothing too clear or too profound
but still just enough to make me "hmm"
and I want to scream: tip over the bolted down theater seats and say!
I DON'T WANT TO OWN YOU OR ANYTHING OR HOLD
YOU BACK FROM LIKE SUCCESS Y'KNOW
I just simply want to occupy the space around you from time to time
so I don't have to miss a single thing you say.
And I want to be the person that knows if you've spent many moments
mulling that phrase over in your head
and knowing when it just came out, your filter on sabbatical.

Because that's intimacy to nod your head to.

You've Got Ten Words to Play Off of

Sit back, relax, and drive. drive until all that's left is the Horizon and music in your ears. Keep a small reminder of the things you are leaving behind. All memories, amiable or otherwise, become reduced to a mere fraction the further you drive. Flip on the air and witness the chemistry that occurs between cold sweat and palpable disdain. No time for books that play on words you learned in middle school, this is the Road. This Road doesn't care about your concoctions of verbs and nouns and how "pretty it sounds." This Road doesn't end. Your troubles, however far away, is just a number behind you.

-Kevin Vaughn

And don't stop counting.