Trust your Instincts

Two Fires and Killing Me Softly

I knew instinctively that today was going to be bad. I knew it from the moment that my classes got changed from 2:00pm-8pm on a Saturday that things were not going to go well. And they did not.

I had dinner plans at 8pm on Saturday night with friends from Dallas and was really looking forward to an evening out with friendly faces. I had some homework to do and was furiously trying to get it done before my classes when, my housekeeper, who doesn’t even come on Saturdays, showed up at 11 to “tidy up” and visit for a bit. She is very excited about my Cordon Bleu experience and loves to hear all about it. I realize that I am not going to get my homework done at home so I leave for my 2pm class really early thinking I can finish it there beforehand.

I show up at LCB at 1:15 ready to get dressed and prepare for the day and it is closed. There is a crowd of people gathered round the entry and the door is locked. It is freezing and the wind is blowing 20 miles an hour. And you can clearly see the people inside are cleaning. But 80 of us all have class at 2pm so why clean before we get there? And lock us out in the bone-chilling cold? It’s rude and I am not happy. I got a blow out for my big night out and it is already ruined. Finally at 1:30 they unlock the doors and let the frozen students in, but at this point I am so cold and so want to go back home that I have a short internal debate. Skip class? Go home, have a hot shower and get ready for a nice dinner? That sounds good. But I remind myself that my grades are not all that stellar and I can’t afford a zero for the day, so I go in, get dressed and give up on the homework.

Chef begins the demonstration of the lesson which is complicated and very long. In fact, it lasts until 5pm. This is bad news, very bad news. The demo is supposed to end at 4:30 so we have time to change and get our things for the 5pm cooking class which we need to be at 15 minutes beforehand to set up. So going into it we are already late to start and I am anxious about my friends and our plan to meet for dinner at 8pm. Also, if Chef needed three hours to demonstrate what were going to do-how were we going to get it done in the allotted two hours and 15 minutes? Not gonna happen.

We get into the kitchen to start our practical and I am overwhelmed. I have had no time to process the information we learned in the demonstration and we have to immediately start cooking as we are already a solid 20 minutes behind.

We have two very different but equally time consuming tasks. One is to start the dough for a puff pastry which requires A LOT of work and rolling of dough and additions of butter and turning and rolling some more and then we are also expected to prepare the main dish —a Trout Grenoblaise with more of those annoying eight-sided potatoes. God Bless.

In a frenzy we all go to work on the pastry and then the trout and things are looking like they might be getting back on track until, at around the two hour mark, the croutons I have made as a garnish for the trout, and which are innocently resting in a pan on the stove top draining butter on some paper towels, catch fire. When I say catch fire—I don’t mean smoke or the paper towel burned, I mean the paper towel goes up in flames and then catches on something else and the croutons start burning and somehow someone’s potatoes get flung in the air and crash onto the burning stove top and it’s bad. Finally, Chef swoops up the burning pan that is now completely aflame and douses it with water. He completely ruins the remaining croutons and the cooktop is a mess, but I am grateful because the flames had gotten large enough that I was worried the fire alarm was going to sound. As the smoke clears everyone goes back to work and I just shake my head and pray for a quick death.

My husband sometimes calls me a Lucy and today I lived up to it and beyond. I was completely stunned by my incompetence and so embarrassed, as the whole class had gathered to watch the debacle. Not a quitter though, I put on my game face and continued on and got my trouts in the pan and fried them deliciously golden brown, mistakenly thinking that I had forged past the low point of my evening. With a misguided hopefulness that I could still salvage some of my grade for the night, I took out the trouts and put them on a trivet (no more paper towels for me) in a pan on the now burned, but cooling stovetop and worked on finishing my garnishes. When, out of nowhere, the trouts inexplicably also catch on fire and are burning up the trivets, with flames licking upward and everywhere. It was surreal. I was equal parts appalled and paralyzed, as again everyone stopped work and stared mutely as Chef came to extinguish the flames. It was so, so epically bad.

My workplace was a disaster and everything smelled burned. One trout was slightly less charred than the other so I plated it anyway with shaking hands, using toasted almonds, fresh parsley and lemon slices to cover the burned marks on the plate. Chef gave one taste, and in a voice completely blasé, announced my fish had a smoky taste. Seriously? I really didn’t even know what to do with that. I couldn’t decide if I was going to laugh or just quit. Was he mocking me or just announcing the truth? I took my plate and slunk away, intent on doing a bang-up cleaning job—which was desperately needed as everything around me was smoky and burned.

My long-suffering trout

Well, we, as a group finished late as a result of my pyrotechnics and Chef announced that everyone was getting a two for organization and preparation. Shocked looks greeted his smirking comment and he then said in inimitable French fashion “Well it is already 8pm and everyone is finished but you.” And then he pulled me aside and said from now on I would be given the fire extinguisher to be kept nearby at all times. Oh, the shame.

We cleaned and wiped and aired out the room. And finally we were dismissed at 8:15. I was now already late to meet friends at the restaurant and still needed to change and get a cab there. I sent a text saying I was running late—obviously. Threw on my clothes and ran outside for my uber in the cold and wind. Which never came. Feeling picked on by the universe, I cursed under my breath, and called another. Which arrived 20 minutes later. At this point LCB is closed and I am just lurking on the street in the cold and dark, waiting. I got in the car and by a long and circuitous route, I finally arrived at 9pm for my 8pm dinner.

Embarrassed and exhausted, I greeted my friends and apologized profusely for my tardiness. As I was bumbling my way through apologies, a man with one of those all-in-one keyboards that make the sounds of all the instruments began belting out Killing me Softly—and in an ironic twist, super loudly. So loud we could not even converse. We were suddenly and unwillingly transported to what felt like a 1970’s Holiday Inn lounge in somewhere like Toledo. We waited patiently for his song to end so I could resume my apologizing, when he then burst into a horrific French rendition of “Happy Birthday.” Which should never happen. It was simply awful and people stood on chairs and danced while he played. Okay. It was so bad it was comical. But that was not the end. He immediately began another song that was even louder than Happy Birthday. It too was remarkable in its cringeworthiness and volume. Then, as a finale to the whole weird episode he re-sang Killing Me Softly-like an unasked for encore. We literally begged for the bill and left.

He should maybe consider another career

Trying to end on a more positive note we decided to go the lovely and civilized Hotel Crillon for a drink and some solitude before calling it a night. After a 15 minute walk, we arrived, only to be greeted with the news that the bar was closed for a private party. Clearly it was a sign, or maybe even an order from God, to go home directly. I may be a Lucy but even I know when the cards are stacked against me.

I haven’t seen my scores for this evening’s performance but I know that my first instinct was right. Staying in bed and covering my head would have been the right move for today.