In the world of the professional chef, knowledge of the fundamentals is the defining characteristic of greatness.
But It is not enough to know how. It is the why that separates a cook from a chef. Here we will discuss the principles and foundations of the culinary world that will allow you to fulfill your potential.
The title may be a bit deceiving, but I assure you that the secrets that I will share with you are simple principles that make us the Picasso's and Michelangelo's of the food world.
I stood in front of the abomination, jaw agape. As my eyes focused on the myriad of decay before me, I was overwhelmed by the noxious aroma that assaulted my nose. It was beyond anything I had ever been witness to. I closed the door and tried to pretend that it wasn't so. When I opened the door again, the reality of my discovery was verified.
I began to grab random objects from the interior of the refrigerator. I had decided that nothing would be salvageable from this frigid place where food went to die. Into the trashcan went the lot. Containers, bowls. jars, you name it. There would be no salvation for anything here. I moved as quickly as possible trying to alternate breaths with my head leaving the refrigerator. This worked for a bit, but I resorted to just breathing out of my mouth for the duration of my work.
All was well and good, until the melon.
It had been a cantaloupe at one point in its existence. I grabbed it in a flurry of removal, after the bag of wilted celery and empty jar of pickles, but to my dismay, as it broke the plane of the refrigerator door, it liquified in my hands and fell to the floor in a splatter. That was the only time I vomited in this endeavour. Good thing I hadn't eaten in some time, because I had just about enough of cleaning up messes. Dry heaves were all that I could manage.
To expedite the cleaning process I brought the garden hose. As I sprayed the fridge out, I decided to open the freezer. To my amazement there was an empty ice tray laying on the bottom shelf that was being kept company by one of those blue ice packs and a bag of coffee beans.
Thank god.
I had gotten up early for going to bed so late. I can attribute this to my mind being on eastern time and my body being in pacific time. I went up the stairs from my bedroom and walked into the kitchen to make myself a pot of coffee. I knew there was lots more work to be done to get it in shape for cooking. Horrified is too subtle a word to describe my feelings as I walked in.
Where I had left an empty sink and clean counter top just hours before, was now a receptacle for round two of a collection of dirty dishes. The foulness that escaped my lips was enough to make the saltiest sailor blush. My roommates, it seemed, had a cache of filth stored in their respective bedrooms that found the light of day now that I had begun cleaning. I seriously thought about throwing them out the second floor window before I washed them and put them away.
I was now party to a new marvel. For it seemed that we were in possession of enough dishes to throw a dinner party for forty people. The hodgepodge of patterns and designs of the different place settings was reminiscent of a seventies yard sale. None the less, I found my way through them and began to scrape the stove of its protective coating of baked on grime.
While I was searching for a tool to assist me in my task, I took inventory at the treasures I had found in my cleaning: A pipe wrench, 3 sponges that hadn't seen the light of day for some time now, half of a pair of scissors, and an assortment of twist ties and other fastening devices. I used the scissors/wrench combination to remove the half-inch layer of funk from the stove.
I still had not gotten my coffee.
By noon I was done with the stove and oven. The dishes were done. The floor had been swept and mopped. The great wall had been relocated to the garage to await the recycle pickup. I had a sense of accomplishment that rated a smile from my grease stained face. I opened the refrigerator to make myself some lunch.
I wept like a little girl.
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