heartache

I miss cooking. To the point of tears this very moment. I was just reading a blog about a line cook. Seeing the line, the coats, that special swagger a cook has. Being a part of that team. I miss the rush, the feeling of accomplishment after a very busy day. I even miss the grumpy, dirty minded, hung over chefs that yell at you. I miss being one of the only white girls in the kitchen and still kicking butt. I wanna be there. Knife in hand. Strong arms. Cuts. Burns. Dirty Crocs. Fast chops. Better pizzas than anyone. Yes Chef. Reggae. 86. Toughness. It was cool. And most of all, it was my identity. And I threw away my identity.

I loved so much being a part of that world. I dont know if its just today, but I have been thinking about it a lot lately. But I'm so stubborn that I dont know if I could do it again. I just got so burnt. If I hate it so much, then why is it that every time I go see my husband at work(the Bistro where I cooked, where we met) I question what I'm doing. My heart hurts to think about it.

I love food. Maybe I should just leave it at that.


I miss this.

Girls can play with knives too :)