food is compelling

There are these moments in cooking school. We had one today.

After Chef was done grading our mystery plates, she announced that we could go back in and clear them, nosh on them-- whatever. We were like this little group of mothers going in to visit our newborns. It was a good opportunity to check what we'd done-- in the frenzy of the 45 minutes or so of creation, things got blurry. The pressure to get the plate out on time made it impossible to really judge it-- taste, appearance, doneness-- for myself. Many of us, feeling the pressure to hit the deadline, didn't check seasoning.

So there I was, inspecting my Mahi Mahi with Ginger-Coconut Beurre Blanc, Aromatic Basmati Pilaf and sauteed Dino Kale. I checked doneness, I rechecked seasoning. As other people sat down and started chawing on their creations, I stood up and took mine away. I offered bites to a couple people-- asked them what they thought of the sauce. It seemed a shame to toss it into the compost, but the bigger shame might be my eating this rich, rich food merely because it was in front of me. Or in celebration of this big stressor being over and done with.

So I tossed it. I tossed it, and I went to my locker, and I pulled out the Pink Lady apple I'd bought a few hours earlier, and I walked back to the hallway outside the kitchen, and I enjoyed this incredible piece of food that was loaded with nothing-- no grade, no self-expression, no frail ego looking for affirmation, no burst of creativity-- nothing other than its essence, its simplicity, its goodness.

I ate it voraciously. I ate it with my emotions, which my creamy, meaty, buttery mystery plate concoction would have soothed and sublimated, close to the surface. The stress that had risen up inside of me needed the crunch of an apple, the skin of it pressing into my gums as I bit deep into it, the intensity of that crisp, juicy flesh. I stood over the garbage can outside the kitchen and I felt bare-- my own frazzled nerves and worn muscles were, once again, a little closer to daylight than I'm used to.