I Am Going To Miss This

This morning I went in for breakfast at the lodge, done work and happy to eat a delicious meal here one last time. I then said goodbye to everyone I had not yet, and dropped off my keys. My day was filled with packing and napping, then taking a bus to the airport at 2:00a.m. I am ready to fly home.

My tomato and cheese omelette for breakfast

I must admit the first month here was quite challenging at times, but the last few weeks have been so cheerful and amazing and my experience overall was priceless – a once in a lifetime opportunity I will never forget. Although it will be nice to be home, I am honestly sad to leave. I am going to miss the garlic whack, truffle mash, crotin de chevre, and lime confit. I am going to miss my crazy cornflake, my harshest critic, and my biggest supporter. I am going to miss being called Chef, v-bomb, the Bommelater, Daphne, Chicken Wing, Pumpkin, Fruit Loop, and the various other nicknames I’m really not sure how I earned. I am going to miss being the only female in the kitchen among three to five guys, and how I never felt they respected me any less for it, despite the fact I was only a student. I am going to miss the cheerful greetings of the servers when they walked into the pastry kitchen. I am going to miss the kitchen porter who spoke only a few words of English but who never stopped smiling at me. I am going to miss the peacefulness of such a quaint village and the hospitality of the people in it. I am going to miss the long hours and late nights at work that never seemed as long as they actually were. I am even going to miss the chef de partie who trained me on pastry, despite me telling him I would miss everyone except him (to which the head chef high-fived me), as he had become like a brother to me, and taught me so much. He is full of knowledge, but also personality. He respected me from the start, but I know over time he became very confident in my abilities and trusted me even more.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped asking how to do things because I already knew how. Somewhere along the way, I stopped asking what needed to be done because I was aware of the prep lists myself. Somewhere along the way, I stopped asking where ingredients were as my mind became engraved with the inventory of the entire estate. Somewhere along the way, I grew the ability to carry fifty pound bags of sugar up the stairs on my own. Somewhere along the way, I grew a backbone and a thicker skin. Somewhere along the way, I learned how to make the best chocolate mousse, how to halve pounds of cherry tomatoes in seconds, and how to serve over three hundred people in the bar in one day. Somewhere along the way, I learned more than I ever thought I would, and became capable of more than I ever thought I could. Somewhere along the way, I met so many new friends, ate so many new foods, and developed so many new memories.