imagine you get to your new school. you weave your way through a bustling locker room, don your chef whites (minus the toque), your new leather shoes. you walk past the mirror and notice how surprisingly chef-ish you appear. a far cry from last weeks suit pants and high-heels. SO much more like the you that you feel comfortable being. you walk out into the lounge area - everything is so modern, stream-lined, open, bright. everyone looks like you. everyone seems to be smiling. there is a specific type of energy that permeates the hallway. nervous, jittery, excitable energy that vibrates and pulses out and around. as you walk, in this nervous, excited clump of your peers, you can't help but wonder what's next. not even what's next tonight, but what's next. in general. for life! for your next chapter! but you don't want to rush it.
then you make your way up to the brand new, sparkling, shiny, state-of-the-art, high-tech and professional-grade kitchen. there is nothing like it. standing by your personal pro-series Kitchen Aid Stand Mixer, running your hand down the handle of the Vulcan oven, along the handles of the All-Clad pots...seeing your beaming face reflected in the stainless-steel surfaces that surround you. there is nothing like it at all. especially when you live to play in this type of playground.
when you finally take your place, by a mixer, by a brand new set of books, and papers, a tool kit filled with tools from companies like Mercer and Ateco...not to mention the fact that you can't believe that May 9th is already here, you start to feel the surrealism close in on you.
all of that is more than enough to cause my ear-to-ear smile. sincerely. but there's more. SO. MUCH. MORE.
imagine you have spent most of your life devoted to the art of cake. granted, you have made plenty of 'cake wrecks' worthy of a place on that blog for cake mistakes. you've grown, you've honed your skills. you've invested a ton of money into this hobby, turned passion, turned way of life. it's beyond your control- the way you see the world in cake - it's just who you are now. you've spent years following the careers of your some of your favorite cake superstars. the sort that make cakes of the incomparable sort. the kind that are exquisite and enormous and extraordinary (and every other 'E' word that i can think of).
you realize that you've heard of your chef-instructor, Cynthia Peithman. not "heard of" like, "oh yeah, i think i've heard of her" but more like "oh wow, i know who that is! i've seen her work - in a bridal magazine!! i have her website saved as one of my favorites" - because you stalk cake like a big cat stalks impala on the African plains - only you don't want to eat it. you just want to watch it. stare. marvel. cake is your life. your prey. your passion. (you dream in cake, remember?) what an amazing gift you've given yourself, you think quietly. the things you will learn!!
there's even more that has you smiling, however.
you wait, listening to the chefs, the introductions, the stories. and then they say that "someone" wants to say hello. there's a hush that falls across the room, because everyone is holding their breath, wondering. but seconds later in walks one of your most favorite cake idols of all: Chef Ron Ben-Israel. and you can do nothing but smile. beam. glow. and that is all. just glow. nothing more. because that's the icing on the cake. (deliberate pun? but of course. unexpected? nope. cheesy? yup...but who cares!) you're within 2 feet of the person who is inadvertently responsible for your being here to begin with. because 5 months ago, you sent his company an email with a query regarding an internship, and he (himself!) wrote back and suggested you look into a new course at FCI. and you did. and you enrolled in something you wouldn't have known about until it was too late. until you couldn't be one of the lucky FIRST students ever. but now you are. one of the first. standing 2 feet from Chef RBI and in the only place you've ever wanted to be for a hundred million years.
and you tell me you wouldn't have a smile that goes from ear to ear.
that's what i thought.
xo
m
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