The Cream Always Rises to the Top

And so was the theme for the National High School Culinary Weekend. The cream always rises to the top. Oddly enough, that was also the theme of the adult movie section in my hotel, as well.

My "weekend" began last Friday evening at the Overland Park convention center for the 2011 National Teen Chef Competition. Although, I struggle to call it a weekend, as a weekend isn't really a weekend if you have to work. So naturally I was grumpy walking into the convention center at 6 p.m. for the welcome ceremony. By 6 p.m. on Fridays I'm usually about 3 drinks deep. Upon entering the large meeting room I started to realize this little competition wasn't so little after all. I saw cheerleaders on both sides of me cheering as I walked in, what the shit is this I wondered. Then I heard a marching band closing in on me, and then I realized I was basically walking through a "tunnel walk." Yes, I am proud to say I had the honor of leading in the 2011 competing culinary teams from across the United States including Puerto Rico and Guam. No wonder everybody was staring at me. I slipped aside just as a zoo of 500 high school kids came barreling inside with horns blowing. Seriously horns, like those God awful soccer horns that are called something I don't know how to say and always end up saying something dirty instead like a vulvazela. The kids were looking sharp (knife joke intended) with the girls in their Target kitten heels, and the boys in their Old Navy khaki cargos. The entire opening ceremony was a pretty big deal. There was music and fireworks and celebrities galore. I don't want to drop any names, but the CEO of Wendy's as well as Chili's were both in attendance. I had completely under estimated the hugeness of this event. This wasn't state basketball, these kids were playing for the National title- in a completely unathletic way of course. I was amongst the best and the brightest of the future Olive Garden and Applebees chefs of the nation. I guess I just didn't realize how important this event was, silly me and my close minded notion that only athletic events are prudent in high school. Kids today have all sorts of options if they're not good at sports, they can do band, or chess, or spelling bees, or theatre, and even the best eaters are being celebrated with national food competitions. What a great country we live in where we can take absolutely anything and turn it into a competition or a reality show, preferably both.

The big news of the night was that the winning team was going to be flown out to the national NRA convention in Las Vegas at the end of May. That's a weird combination I thought. Why would the National Rifle Association want to fly culinary kids to their convention? Was this a Republican sponsored event? I turned to the Chef next to me and casually asked,

"what's the rifle association have to do with this? Just good publicity?"

The snide chef looked me over and said,

"The NRA is the National Restaurant Association."

Ahhh that would make more sense. I asked the chef where he worked so I could make sure and eat there and then send my food back.

So night one wasn't awful. After the ceremony the co workers and I went out for sushi. Look at me and my coworkers going out for drinks just like I'm on the Office or something, nbd. Obviously the people I work with are a bunch of foodies so we must have ordered 25 different sushi rolls. Everything was all good and fun until they started buying the restaurant t-shirts. I don't know, maybe it's just me but I frown upon buying a shirt with the sole intention of letting others know where you've dined. It's like having a rock in your front yard with your last name carved into it. You live there. We get it.

Saturday morning I found myself busy at work at Town Center checking out the spring sale at J Crew, maybe working on the weekend isn't that bad after all? I had a quick working lunch at Dean and Deluca and then I had to head to the school to begin work on the real shit. My leisurely day was quickly coming to an end. For the next five hours I was thrown into the role of "bus boy" at the dinner hosted for the students. Now I've never worked in a restaurant, nor have I ever had the desire to. And it's because of dirty napkins. I can't look at them and I certainly can't touch them. They freak me out. A napkin is used for wiping shit, why would I ever want to come close to that? So for each table I had to clear I would use clean napkins in order to grab the dirty napkins and then carry them to the trash like they were actual pieces of shit. I might have been a little dramatic. Oh well, to each their own napkin.

By the time the night came to a close I was exhausted and more than ready for a bottle of wine. But I didn't want to be a total snot and run off to my room without conversing with the coworkers I see once a year for just a bit. But after that bit passed I ran off to my room and settled in bed with a bag of Chex Mix and a bottle of wine. It wasn't the best Saturday night of my life, but it wasn't the worst, either.

Little did I know that night that the very next day I would hear some of the biggest new of my life, Bin Laden is dead. A moment, as all news anchors are saying, "we'll remember for the rest of our lives." Thanks for the best May Day ever, CIA! Bin Laden's body is ten times better than a basket of popcorn with peanuts and M&Ms scattered through out.