Throughout the culinary adventures I've stumbled upon thus far, my new, massive acquisition is by far my worst and best friend.
During a recent catering assignment, my kitchen duties included everything from prep and production, to service and plating. Bracing for a 900 guest event, the kitchen was buzzing with energy and anticipation of an interesting night. Having only served a max of 300 in the past, I was very excited for a evening of this magnitude. With the little chef's blister on the inside of my pointer finger, which has [by this time] satisfyingly turned into a callous, I was ready for julienne, small dice, and anything else that was thrown my way...or so I thought!
After successfully chopping mache, parsley, and thyme, assembling goat cheese balls, and plating 300 ladles of vegetables and chicken, I was feeling great about the event. Unfortunately, my shift wasn't over yet.
When all dies down and the waiters are impatiently waiting for the guests to finish dessert and coffee, the kitchen is responsible for preparations for the following day. Aside from julienning mushrooms and marinating fruit, one of my tasks was to cube 80 pounds of chicken breast. Sounds like an easy task? Yeah! I thought so! Luckily, 2 others were also recurited for this extraordinary feat. As we hacked away at the slimy project, all were completely exhausted and watching the clock. "Another breast please", I mumbled, as my hands felt like anvils, attached to my wrists. Toward the end of the evening, my knife's sharpness was beginning to dwindle and the cubing required a lot more force. I kept feeling a sharp pain over my little [or so I thought] callous, but since gloves and chicken goo were covering my anvils, I couldnt see where the pain was coming from. In actuality, the result of this fun little project is noted in the photo above; a huge blister, the size of a dime, over my little pleasant callous...impossible you say? See for yourself. By the way, does anyone have an industrial sander I could borrow?