Today I killed a lobster. This lobster was so alive that when I went to get it out of its bowl in my fridge to begin the massacre...he had crawled out and was running for his life. Poor guy. He never had a chance.
So the way it goes is, you face the lobster, eye to beady little eyes and you put your knife to the back of his head and you slice forward. Right between said eyes. Then you turn him away to writhe a bit while you cut him right down the middle to his tail. Pop that bad boy back in the fridge...not much chance he's crawling out of the bowl now.
The way I see it is, if he were at Petit Homard Cordon Bleu (homard = lobster, anglophiles) he would do the same to me if it were expected of him. That doesn't mean I don't understand that bad karma is piling up. If, someday a predator larger than me decides to carve me up I guess we'll know that the universe is at least fair, even if it isn't pretty.
So we made a bouquetiere (tourned artichoke, cauliflower, peas plus tourned carrots and turnips and green beans) and a sauce and that was it. I'm still on the mend, so my sense of taste is not great and the chef didn't love any of my seasoning on anything. Some too much, some not enough...and no chef has ever before complained about my green bean doneness...note to self: this chef needs them to be softer than I made them...but whatever. More good than bad again today, and that's what I aim for. Am I perfect? No. If I were I wouldn't be in school.
Tomorrow....Ambassadeur Exotique....ooooohhhh....exotic.
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