a lavender mineral bath soak

Is what I look forward to on Saturday evenings. Tired, sweaty, and swollen after my once-a-week shift at FM, a nice braise in the tub is relaxing. For the past few weeks, I had only been working a partial shift. You can say I've been getting spoiled. If Chef asks me if I want to go home, I don't say no. Today, I was getting my butt kicked. I was assigned dicing duties for the first couple of hours which left me with a fresh blister on the side of my index finger. I'm working my way to a permanent chef's callus. (Strange thing, my fingers started getting numb after two hours of knife work. ) While I did my best to keep up, I burnt myself several times with the occasional hot oil treatment to the face. But all in all, it was a good productive day; though my fingers are still burning from chopping jalapenos.

habla espanol?

Hola, gracias, bien, and caliente is pretty much the extent of my Spanish vocabulary. I knew if I wanted to work in a professional kitchen, learning the "second official" language of America would be to my benefit. I have yet to take a class and the five years of French in high school and college have not been much help. On one occasion, I was "talking" to Marilou, the new salad girl, and she offered me a salad which I replied by shaking my head and putting my hands over my belly trying to tell her that I had already eaten. I think I may have inadvertently told her that I was pregnant because she started talking about her nino. Ay, caramba! Maybe in 20 years I can say that I learned Spanish by working in restaurants; but in the meantime, all I can do is smile, nod, and say thank you. (And keep my hand gestures to a minimum, who knows what I might "say" next time.)

peruvian independence day

Ceviche, antichuchos (beef, chicken, and beef heart), blue potatoes with cheese sauce, pollo al ajo, among other Peruvian dishes graced FM's menu tonight in celebration of their Independence Day. The chef, being short of cooks these days, asked me if I wanted to be on grill or the oven side. I told him I would do either, but something told me I would be at the grill station for tonight's service. My first time there (no time better than the present, right?) and let me tell you, I think I fared quite well. I only had one entree come back when a customer complained about the "extra char" on the hamburger bun. It was great fun. I get goosebumps thinking about doing it all over again tomorrow night. The only "downside" about it is that I've never been that hot since I was in Cambodia. The A/C being broken didn't help, but the pisco sour and two glasses of sauvignon blanc sure did cool me off.

peach shortcakes

I had agreed to help Vickie, a co-worker at FM, to volunteer for Les Dames d'Escoffier with their Green Kids at the Market Day booth at the Arlington Farmer's Market. An annual event to introduce children to seasonal foods and local farmers. Ice cream and butter making activities were available for kids along with design-you-own toque to building bugs out of fruits and vegetables. I had the privilege of assisting Pastry Chef Kate Jansen of Willow in assembling the delectable mini peach shortcakes. My culinary expertise and keen knife skills were showcased as I sliced the shortcakes in half, plated, and scooped on the macerated peaches finishing them off with a swirl of whipped cream from a can. I enjoyed basking in the morning sun and chatting up with kids and adults alike at the market before I had to make my way down the interstate to FM for my weekly fix of BOH grunt work; which I find completely satisfying. This week's highlights: mutilated thumb from peeling 10lbs of potatoes, making 10 quarts of cocktail sauce, cleaning hanger steak, and assembling the world's most beautiful cheese plate; ok, maybe not, but I got to be on the line for about 2 hours during dinner service. Yeepee!

Peach Shortcake from Willow Restaurant
Serves 6

Shortcakes
2 cups all-purpose flour
4 tbsp sugar
1 tbsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
1 stick of cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes
1 large egg, lightly beaten
1/2 cup heavy cream

Pre-heat over to 425 degrees. In a food processor, pulse the flour, sugar, salt, and baking powder just to combine. Place the cold butter pieces over and pulse until the mixture is mealy in texture. Transfer to a bowl. Mix the egg and heavy cream together. Pour the mixture into the dry ingredients. Combine with a spoon until large clumps form. Turn onto a lightly floured surface and lightly knead until mixture comes together. Gently roll the dough with a rolling pin to an inch thickness. Cut with a 2 1/2 inch biscuit cutter into 6 rounds. Place the shortcakes 1 inch apart on a baking sheet. Bake the shortcakes until golden brown, about 12 minutes. Cool the cakes, split in half, and top bottom half with peaches. Serve with whipped cream.

Peach Topping

Wash, peel, and cut 4 large peaches into small pieces. Sweeten with 2-4 tbsp of sugar. Macerate slightly to release the juices. Refrigerate 1 hour before serving.

italian vs. greek

A quiet day at work: other than the 30 minute rush at the salad station , which included an embarrassing moment when a little boy asked what the difference was between creamy Italian and creamy Greek. Whatever it was that I said to him seemed to satisfy his curiosity. So what is the difference you ask? Let me get back to you on that.

I got to work around noon, put on my chef's coat, apron, FM ball cap and hung two kitchen towels off either side of my waist. I blanched some bokchoy and grilled some portobellos for the dinner menu. I was about to grill off some chicken when our sous chef, Russ, told me we were in dire need of some strawberries. It's Strawberry Festival at the restaurant this weekend. Strawberry drinks, desserts, and homemade jam. So for the next 2 hours, I halved several hundred strawberries. Not only were my hands bloodied from the syrup, but my apron, coat, and both forearms were streaked with red. It looked as if I worked at a butcher's shop or was in a horrible cat fight.

Alas, the day was over. I came home and soaked the day away as I sipped a glass of viognier. The battle wounds are all gone, but my hands still smell like strawberries.