The Only Time I Wasn’t Excited About Cheese

There was a lunch party at work today. A nearby school rented out the first floor for an academic award luncheon, or something of the sort. What it meant for us was that 135 chocolate cakes needed to be ready to go for dessert. I was a cake assembling fiend this week, slapping layers of devil’s food cake and chocolate cream together like it ain’t no thang.

There’s three of us up at the station this afternoon, plating the cakes for the luncheon. I’ve never really missed working the line, but I did enjoy myself this afternoon, swirling anglaise on the plates, drizzling chocolate sauce, and sprinkling praline around the cakes, beautifully crafted. I don’t love working under pressure, but there’s something about cranking things out that is entirely satisfying. The 135 plates were counted and stacked ahead of time, and seeing the stacks shrink and shrink, the plates getting sent out to the guests, was very comforting. Tangible results at work are pretty important to me, I guess. 

Things are winding down and I’m wiping down the station, almost ready to head back to the kitchen, when one of the ladies walks over w/ a plate of food. Steak and fries, not too shabby for lunch. I go to fix myself a plate and comment how I wish there were mashed potatoes instead of fries. I love me some fries, but their mashed potatoes are my friggin kryptonite. Creamy, buttery, garlicky goodness, need I say more? One of the ladies mentions that there are mashed potatoes, and I nearly piss my pants, I’m so pumped. She points them out and I ladle up an enormous portion, certain that my entire week has just been made. These mashed potatoes > half priced Easter candy, there, I said it.

We’re on the elevator down, plates in hand, and I can’t even wait until we’re back in the kitchen. I spoon a huge bite into my mouth and wait for the sensation...and immediately recoil. Mashed potatoes, these are not. If I was a betting woman, I’d say it was some sort of alfredo or cheese sauce that I had piled on my plate. Thick and creamy enough to fool me into thinking it was mashed potatoes. I’ve never been disappointed to eat cheese in my life. Until today. 

And I still didn’t get my mashed potato fix. Double fail.

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