I will admit that I suffer from anxiety when it comes to projects that exceed the scope of my knowledge and experience. In the past, I have suffered from full-blown panic attacks to mild bits of indifference regarding growing-up, graduation, thesis deadlines, papers, tests, etc. I usually deal with this by procrastinating (I work extremely well under pressure, probably one reason why I like the food service industry), which tends to allow me not to think about the final product until the last possible moment, limiting the stress to a minimal amount of time. This also probably explains why I have never done well, or particularly liked activities that require practice or a continued commitment to excel. Little did I know that cooking requires tons of practice, continued commitment, and studying (something else I’ve never been good at) until I embarked in my first competition.
I think the reason why I did well during my first competition is because I didn’t really think about it. Sure, I practiced (I think three times), but I didn’t know what was going to happen, so I didn’t let little things worry me. The first competition was a rush. Honestly, that’s pretty much all I remember about the hour, because it all happened so fast. The second competition was a different story. I knew what to expect. I thought long and hard about every component of my dish. I practiced around 30 times. I worried. And then I started to hate it. I hated food. All food. But especially my dish. During the competition, everything went wrong and I didn’t know how to handle it. I had lost all ingenuity as a cook and had turned into a robot. By the end of it, my dish was a disaster and I left defeated and deflated.
That was my last competition.
To graduate from culinary school, I had to do a final practical exam which consisted of five courses: soup, salad, appetizer, entree and dessert. Unlike a lot of practical exams, I got to decide the menu (I did a mediterranean theme). It was graded exactly like the competitions: floor score and tasting score. At first I obsessed, but then I could feel the disdain coming on. I immediately shut off. For the last month of the semester, I didn’t think about the exam until the day before. (Needless to say, I didn’t practice.) The day before, however, I was a machine. I mise en placed. I organized equipment. I wrote production schedules, station diagrams, plating diagrams, revised recipes. I had everything ready and I rocked it. I walked away with a hypothetical gold medal and I didn’t want to give up food for the next year. In fact, I wanted to cook!
And this is how I’ve felt until a few days ago when the dread has returned. I’m writing this blog, hoping to figure out a way to deal with the stress. Unlike the competition and my practical exam, this is a test I can’t afford NOT to practice and study. I have to know the in’s and out’s of every dish I make. However, unlike to the second competition, I can’t lose my ability to think on my feet. I have to be able to improvise on the spot if something goes wrong. Trying to find a happy medium is just another bonus to the amount of work I already have to do.
So far, my only advice for myself is to stop what I’m doing and assess the situation. Ironically, the moments I start panicking are when I’m not doing anything at all (probably a hint that I should be studying). I keep telling myself that if I treat the exam as four days of cooking for loved ones, I will continue to enjoy the learning experience and–hopefully–not stress out. I have also found that reading Julia Child really helps.
Julia is my cooking guardian angel. And the CIA may just be my journey through the depths of Hell.
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