A new cooking school opens up that is considered one of the hardest schools of that type to be in. Where almost all classes were like competitions and the instructors were very strict. Even to become a student, one had to sign a waiver stating that they knew they could be dropped from the program at any moment if their scores in the classes got too low. Still, for those that graduated, they were considered among some of the best chefs in the galaxy! -- Lessons
Education in an interesting field in the Alliance. Some classrooms are designed with an atmosphere of peace and calm. Some teachers will do anything to get the lesson through to their students. Many build on a basework of understanding. One insists on perfection above all else.
In order to get in, one has to demonstrate a certain level of skill. One has to be able to tell one kind of knife from another, and have a working knowledge of food safety ingrained into one's soul. Even chicken soup has its high stakes. Those who arrive with hair nets and sneeze guards already donned have a mark in their favour.
Welcome to Ramsey's School of Culinary Excellence. In signing up, you recognise that you may not make it all the way through.
This is not a place for simple mistakes. This is where the best of the best learn every detail of handling natural sourced ingredients[1]. They also learn every detail of turning food into works of art.
This is where one can learn how to cook for the extremely wealthy. Those who can afford to raise a school of sharks just to have soup. Those who can own a planet made for farming their feasts[2].
Of course, those people are very offended if they learn about anything they own going to waste. So everything has to be perfect, the first time.
Every single one of the trainees here get ulcers at some point, or need dental replacements. Even those who practice Zen as they create their dishes.
Culinary Trainee Min's hands shook as ze carefully turned the bulb of a young onion under the magnifier. Any idiot with a tool could make a blooming onion, it took artistry and skill to make an onion rose. So far, so good. Time to take out the core. Ignore everything else. Line it up and pretend that the Master isn't hovering over hir shoulder at that exact moment.
Cachunk.
Good. It looked exactly like the example specimen. Next up, the preparation before deep-frying it. Flavoured flour, egg wash, and artisinal breadcrumbs ze had made the week before.
Min watched it like a hawk as the petals separated in the oil and formed a perfect onion rose. Ze breathed normally at last.
"Passable," said the Master. High praise, given the standards of this classroom. "What are the procedures for using a wonky bulb?"
Min knew this one, "Presuming there are no better bulbs, sculpt according to the whims of the medium, and excise the core by hand, Chef."
A well-done nod, and a wonky bulb in the Master's hand. "Demonstrate, and you ascend to the next level."
Fail, Min knew, and ze was out. "Permission to shake off some nerves, first, Chef?"
A grudging nod. This was it. Do or die. Even those who failed at Ramsey's were valued, but Min wanted to succeed. While ze was shaking, ze looked at the bulb as a sculptor might. Already planning to cut away everything that wasn't a rose.
That was how one won at Ramsey's. Always thinking of the finished work.
[1] Thanks to molecular manipulation technology and cloned "tube" meats, most food is 3D-printed or otherwise manufactured without animal, or even plant, involvement. Thus, anything that's grown live is a lot more expensive.
[2] The people who work on those planets generally don't taste anything they grow. They suffice on printed meals or ultra-low-budget nutrient soup baggies.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Likka]
If you like my stories, please Check out my blog and Follow me. Or share them with your friends!
[109 remaining prompts] Please don't send any more prompts for now. Thank you.
