As always, before the words had even fully left his mouth, my hand was flung in the air. Chef waved me up with a knowing smile, accustomed and even expectant of my eagerness by now. As I left my seat in the center of the front row however, a worrying thought crossed my mind.
Whenever I roast chicken at home, I’m never positive which way is right side up- I just can’t tell the difference when it’s raw. What if I screw it up right now? In front of the whole class!
It was true. On more than one occasion, I had pulled a chicken from the oven, fully cooked, and totally upside down. (Which actually makes for a moist breast, but one with un-crisped skin). I always recognized the mistake immediately when it was cooked, but while still white, pock-marked, and rubbery; all of the parts looked the same to me! Determinedly, I told myself it would be fine; after all, it was obvious. So obvious that there was no way I could possibly ask Chef which way was up without humiliating myself.
This time, I was sure, unlike the previous others, I would be able to distinguish the breasts from the back and all would fine. I joined Chef Patricio at the demonstration table with what I hoped was an air of confidence.
Of course, the very first thing he instructed me to do was grab two chickens from the reach-in and place them on our cutting boards.
“Yes, Chef” I responded breezily, as though this was the easiest task in the world, which it would have been for anyone else.
Grabbing two chickens, I placed them in a bowl before returning to the cutting boards, and the moment on which my reputation as a capable cook now hung. Until now, I had put on a good show, and was looked upon as one of the best in our class. Even though I had no professional experience, I was far and away the most knowledgeable about cooking techniques, ingredients, cuisines, well-known Chefs, and renowned restaurants; due mainly to my insatiable reading habit and cookbook addiction. Now, however, that carefully crafted persona would be destroyed as, once again, I literally couldn’t make heads or tails of these fricken birds.
Time was ticking and there was no way I could put off making a decision any longer, so I went with my gut, placed them both on the cutting boards, and prayed like hell I’d picked right. The second Chef looked down curiously at his board, I knew I had failed. Shit! I quickly flipped over the birds, laughing it off as if I had accidentally placed them breast-side down, while my face grew hot and left knee began to tremble.
Did anyone notice? Did I play it off?
It seemed, luckily, that the students were all distracted with knife bags and cell phones. Yet, I could have avoided all of this anxiety if only I had just checked with Chef.
A simple “this is the breast side, yes?” might have been slightly embarrassing to ask, but far less humiliating than plunking the birds down with their asses waving in the air. And let’s be clear, I know there is no way Chef bought my ‘whoopsie!’ act, even if the rest of the class may have.
That moment seemed so monumental at the time, but looking back now, it was so insignificant! Such a silly little thing, hardly worth remembering let alone regretting. Since then, I have made far worse mistakes and embarrassed myself much more, and each time it was because I was too prideful to ask what I thought was a stupid question.
Trust me, when you are butchering rare and expensive parrot fish, you should always ask the Chef what exactly it is he wants you to do, rather than do it wrong- even if he just explained a minute before.
After a few of these costly mistakes, I quickly learned that asking questions, especially the stupid ones, was in fact, smart. I have now reached the point that I never hesitate to ask a question because every time I do I learn something, which is invaluable. Asking questions can save you time, as well as face. Rather than hunt around for an ingredient when I am in an unfamiliar kitchen just for the sake of self-sufficiency, I ask a veteran where it is, and easily save myself ten minutes. When I am beginning a new recipe, or prepping a new ingredient, I always ask the Chef what the best way is to approach things, and this increases my efficiency exponentially.
When it comes right down to it, the fact of the matter is, it’s never stupid to seek knowledge you don’t have. You’ll never know until you ask. But don’t get me wrong, I still maintain my stance that there are, indeed, stupid questions. So perhaps those you should probably just Google.
Until the next bite,
Jenn
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