Posted by admin on Feb 21, 2016
Chef De Marco announced that we would be cooking one at a time, while the rest of the class watched and one member timed everyone. In true form Leonardo agreed to time everyone using his watch. I thought this a little peculiar that another student would time all the students and then inform Chef De Marco of the time. Why Chef didn’t have a watch for this task baffled me and we all had to trust that another student would give the correct reading.
In another true to form moment, Mirko was adamant he would go first. No one had a choice as he had decided. However, Chef De Marco wanted us to clean out the spice rack of the kitchen as some of the spices were old and some of the tins were empty. He also decided that Devon and I would clean out the fridge and instructed us to remove all the rotten food from there.
“Would you believe there could be rotten food in a cooking school kitchen?” Devon whispered.
“Most likely because no one in the school will take responsibility for the cleaning and ordering of the food,” I said. “Now we have to clean it in our class time,” I said exasperated that our precious class time would be used to clean a kitchen that administrative assistants should be responsible for.
Whilst everyone was busy cleaning. Simone noticed Mirko looking at his ingredients and starting to cut the zucchini and weighing his yoghurt.
“Che fai?” Simone yelled at Mirko. Mirko lifted his head confused. “Tu stai fare troppo scoretti,” Simone continued in an angry voice yelling at Mirko that he was cheating.
“Non sono scoretti. Sto cercare il peso,” Mirko yelled back, denying that he was cheating and justifying it by claiming that he was just checking his ingredients. The whole group chimed in and everyone was yelling at Mirko, arms swinging left and right, faces contorted and eyes glaring like wolves. The noise was loud and I was surprised that no one heard from the street.
Devon and I continued cleaning the fridge. Even when we had finished we remained there pretending we still had work to do. With a group of angry Italians arguing it was better to stay in a safe spot.
“What are they arguing about?” Devon asked.
“Who knows? For Italians they have been very quiet until now. They have probably become restless and needed something to let out their tension.”
“Don’t they know that sex is good for releasing tension?” Devon suggested teasingly.
I laughed. “Italians are so argumentative that there isn’t enough time in the world for the amount of sex that they would need.” Devon and I both started to giggle. We tried not to laugh too loud but it was no use, and the roaring was released from our diaphragms. Our bodies were convulsing and my stomach hurt. The group by this stage had ceased their argument and some of them turned their gazes towards us, all with a look of disgust as I am sure they guessed we were laughing at them.
[caption id="attachment_161" align="alignnone" width="300"]
My attempt at 'Prova al tempo."[/caption]