Handwashing

This class here was churning out the chocolate cherry bread tonight.  Walking past the bake shop smelled awesome, and for a while we were openly loitering by the bake shop hoping to catch a fresh warm piece of bread.  Like some shit out of Emile Zola or Victor Hugo.  Then I give up on the handout and go back to class, and like 90 seconds later my friends Scott and Caroline come in, each with a fat chunk of chocolate cherry bread in their hands, hollering out "BREAD!  BREAD!".  The class cranes heads and checks them out, and I'm like "ASS!  ASS!"  Where's my piece?  I hate them now.  Scott and Caroline are dead to me.

Anyhoo, I guess washing your hands is important or something, because no lie tonight we dedicated a full two hours to talking about washing your hands.  Not about hygiene, not about general safety.  About washing your hands.  Doctors studying to perform heart transplants don't spend that much time going on about clean hands. 

But it does make sense when you look at it this way: yesterday chef drilled home the point that our hands are our most valuable, most versatile tools we have.  More than any number of commercial choppers and blenders and mixers and dicers, more than grills and broilers and bain-maries and convection ovens.  Our hands.  So then it makes sense to fully articulate every step necessary to keep them completely clean and safe for your customers.  And it was helpful, but not without some duhhh moments.  The funniest part was how self-conscious Chef seemed when she was walking us through the exhaustive hands-washing tactics and methods.  Poor girl.