My watch reads 10:18 in the morning. Pot of tea, good results, getting things done. I can feel the nerves rising for the noon shift. Changes in the kitchen now have me cooking dinner two nights of the week beside Walkman Tim, a real character. He is fast and moody. Gotta smoke those cigarettes. I am trying/ learning to keep up to his rhythm. There are moments of high stress but then the phrase 'it's just food' floods doubt and I relax into it again. Line cooking is for the wacky, no question there. It's not all stress. It is magical to feel the rhythm of three bodies working together sending out plate after plate of nice food. It hurts to send out shitty eggs, it does.
Kitchen waltz with really, really hot pans in hand. Arm hair, adieu. I like my place there, whatever it is.
Cheesecake. Arctic Char. Swiss chard. Herman's eggs. Bocconcini. Parsnip.
Looking forward to walking around Winnipeg with Leo II in the new year. Cameras ready.
What is coming? Here we come.
|Image picked up over at Miss Moss.|