Kitchen Assistant Cum Travel Writer — it is all in the job description. Working in the kitchen, as it turns out, is not as glamorous as it is made up to be on the Tv. Firstly I took the job, under no false pretenses, because I wanted to learn how to cook Japanese Cuisine and to sharpen up on my knife skills — no pun intended.
So I did and it started well enough with me making tempura and chicken katsu curry, but to my dismay this is not all I was to be responsible for. Tidying work station, not tedious but more therapeutic than first expected… so, task one and two check — not too bad. Then I started to peel and chop vegetables as the day progressed and further along the assembly line. I was finally dumped down to plate and tray arrangement, which in most cases did not turn out to be as therapeutic as I might have expected but okay… again, not to much to complain about, I even learned how to dice carrot Nimono style, fancy stuff!
So today(the first day conquered) I did alright and I am in fact loving the work, one thing I did not enjoy is how cliche it all was, from the glitz and the glamour of working up front where the cooking is all done to working my way down to cleaning the floors with bleach and finally taking out he thrash, I imagine this is what most kitchen staff in any fine dining restaurant would have their rookie do on the first day. Take out the thrash, you are no longer that tortured sensitive artist unique to the core of a snowflake type person that you once was. You now travel write and work in a Japanese restaurant to help pay for the bills. Could it get anymore contrite? Point in question, thrash isn’t — hopefully — thrash if you know what I am saying.