Catering

 

I work for a very spunky, funny, kind, Texan mother and animal lover… who is a personal chef and caterer.

I started off working for her because I babysit her 10-year-old on occasion, and it came up one day that I love to cook. She asked if I’d like to come work for her, and the deal was done!

I love the job because I able to converse, cook, and sometimes even go to parties and people watch. I can ignore the chapped-hands feeling after doing hundreds and hundreds of dishes because everything else makes up for it. I also work the perfect amount of hours so I don’t get sick of it!

So far in my adventures I have:

met a blind dog with a tumor the size of a softball. she ran into things a lot but was still nice.  

 burned bread in the oven (while toasting it with olive oil)…. twice in one day 

 met a one-legged duck

cooked in a 15,000 square foot house decorated in italian tuscan villa style, owned by an NBC producer

met a 22-year-old cat

 massacred 8 oz. zucchini, 12 oz. chocolate and espresso grinds (to make mousse), an eggplant, and cream cheese (My boss is so forgiving!!!) all in the misunderstanding of recipes.

learned which kinds of knives are and are not appropriate for various foods; “That’s a filet knife” is something I have heard a lot. I go back to the knife block and search for another. the knives at home suffer by comparison.

talked to a funny italian grandma who squeezed my cheeks (i’m used to that, but it’s not often it happens in public here)

seen a leather piano

conversed with a woman closely resembling twisted sister

and I have learned how to chop an onion correctly. in less than 1 minute.

…the list will grow