I have a secret. Being not that great at keeping them, I have started to let it slip... I miss being in a kitchen. My quasi-professional stint was
Kitchen work is something you only can envy when you are not in one, when you don't need to be standing for 10+ hours with out a break, when you don't have to think of quick, on-the-fly ingredient substitutes or dealing with angry customers who deem yelling as the means of getting their way. Kitchens are scary, dangerous, often ugly, sweltering spaces that are never large enough. I can miss it all because I have the liberty to daydream, something not afforded to those whose minds and bodies are in more dangerous situations than the occasional worry about remembering to bend at the knees when lifting a box of copier paper.
I want to make something that feeds people. They are not always going to be happy, but the end result is tangible, even if fleeting. I miss the smells, the calloused hands, the sculpted arms that know the weight of 50lbs of sugar not 8lbs. dumbbells.
I know I am romanticizing this.
I am thinking I might stag a few places to get this out of my system and allow reality back in.