The next day i entered the clinical kitchen with a type of hole in my heart. I was not so sure about my decision that i had made, my aspirations of becoming miss Jamie Oliver suddenly felt ridiculous and i wanted to go back to school where things were undemanding and semi trouble-free.
I tried to convince myself that this experience would be valuable and handy for my future and i quickly envisioned the wonderful culinary art that would soon follow. I knew my apparition had been in vain when i saw the piles and piles of carrots that would now be my past time for the next few weeks.
We had to learn to cut carrots. Big carrots. Small carrots. Yellow carrots. Orange carrots. Cut of ends. Julienne carrots. Garnish with carrots. Vegetable meals with carrots. Carrot juice...Staff meals: Carrot soup. As I looked in the mirror I swore I had also become yellow, or maybe had too much of a loose hand with the self tan. The weeks that followed started to become more bearable and i could see a light at the end of the tunnel, i had this weird enjoyable experience with the cutting of carrots..i started to see the humor in it. Maybe i had become like a carrot cutting machine. I could do it with closed eyes. Literally.
My friend took me on the challenge and we decided that we would master the cutting of carrots with closed eyes. The abundant carrot intake made us idiotic.
I started the cutting and knew my lecture would freak out if he saw us. I worked fast at it and finished my number of 5. She would be next and upon reaching number 3 catastrophe broke loose, as she had cut her finger. The orange environment quickly turned to crimson red and her face went pale...we would be in trouble once again...2bcont