Lesson #4: Escoffier’s Toque

It is said that the folds of a toque blanche (chef’s hat) is indicative of how many different ways the chef can cook eggs.

If that is the case, then I deserve no less than ten folds.

I crack three eggs and whisk them with a fork:
they form into a yellow pool
and coagulate                                                                                                                                       on a hot
pan of melted butter.
I eat them in my underwear and singlet.

Omelettes should be eaten bra-less
On a Sunday
Or Monday morning —
Whichever you consider to be the beginning or the end of the week.

A crisp asparagus breaks the lining of an under-cooked yoke and makes it runny.

I cannot poach an egg without the aid of cling wrap;
it’s like using a condom, in a way.

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Lesson #3: An educated woman…

 

                You admit that your first love has nothing to do with baking;
                that you wanted to be
                like Louise Bourgeois, like Tracey Emin,
                like Virginia Woolf, like Sylvia Plath
                before you wanted to be like Julia Child, like Nigella Lawson.

People ask you why you quit University                                                                                           In order to slave away at a hot oven.

                Didn’t you learn about feminism?
                Why do you choose to wear an apron?

As far as I know, a chef is predominantly a “man’s job”, and the professional kitchen is no place for a woman.
As far as I’m concerned, a man who insists that cooking is a man’s job
is the sort of man I am only too willingly happy to accept.