The World is Not Ready for Bacon Squash Caviar

Please allow this post to serve as an explanation of why I don’t harbor fantasies of working in a professional kitchen.

I could, with herculean effort, overcome the obvious:  you know, better shape, willing to work nights and weekends for barely a living wage, more deference to authority, and, you know, the whole “punctual” thing.  I could learn to endure the cuts and the bruises and the burn marks.  I could even get used to the Hammer Pants.

This much should be obvious if you have been around a while:   It’s all about the sloppy and the haphazard. In fact, It is often a small miracle that dinner even happens.

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