Update

I've been working for one month now. I've never been more exhausted and I've never worked as hard as I have than at this job. It's extremely dirty work. It's extremely unglamorous, and gritty. I've been bruised, cut, and burned. I've spilled pork fat all over me. I've splashed raw meat juice in my eyeball. I've had someone hand me gloves and say "if you don't want your hands to smell like butthole, you should use these."

I've also learned A LOT. I am getting faster at using a knife. I know how to bone out a duck, skin it, and render it's fat. I can make pork rillette, pate, and head cheese (braised head meats). I ran a kitchen for a week when the chef went on vacation and cooked through lunch rush by myself. I am learning how to cook and serve delicious, beautiful, local and seasonal plates.

Last Sunday Meredith and I cooked for an event called "The Incredible Feast." Chefs paired up with farmers and featured a dish that was distributed among foodies. It was an extremely long week with a lot of additional prep work, and when we were at the function I finally realized how idealized this whole food scene is. This work is hard. This work is dirty. This work can sometimes pay off, but usually it doesn't.

However, when I sit down and eat something that is delicious and beautiful to look at, and I surround myself with friends and feed them, I feel as though there is nothing more I am meant to do in this world. I am beginning to live and breathe wonderful, sustainable, delicious food. Food food food. And I love it. *

*sometimes I do hate it and it makes me want to cry.