Culinary Musings...

  I have a retraction to make from my last post.  I get 2.5 hours of break per shift, not 1.5.  Today I found out that I definitely do have to work hard in the galley.  I spent most of the morning in the dish pit, lugging heavy machinery from one sink to the next.  I am going to get me some muscles yet.  What objects of torture these machines must be for the poor vegetables, I can only imagine!  Laying out on a cold, metal surface, they sit shivering in terror as they scan their alien surroundings.  They glance up just in time to see the razor-sharp metal knife come crashing down on their friend.  Is it not enough to eat them, without first peeling their skin off, dismembering them chunk by chunk, mashing them and dunking them in scalding oil?  Come on, have a little compassion.  Vegetables have feelings too!  I can definitely say that contrary to Mercy Ship's mission statement, I am not bringing hope and healing to the tomatoes of Guinea.  I am slaughtering them!

  My first work-related injury came today.  I found out the reason why God gave us finger-nails.  I found myself lugging clean dishes back to their respective homes and in the process of attempting to nest one super solid metal cauldron inside of another, I managed to squash the side of my left thumb between their brims.  OUUUCH!  I didn't make any noise, but jumped around, clutching my thumb.  (Don't worry food safety people, I took the correct measures to clean up my hand and protect it and the food from each other.)  I found myself once again back with the tomatoes.  My competitive streak began to show, as I secretly tried to fill my pan with chopped tomatoes faster than my co-worker next to me.  Hmmm, maybe that wasn't such a good idea.  I felt the knife come down and ping off my thumb.  The finger-nail completely protected me, and I didn't even slice through the glove, but I can see what a close call that could have been.  Slow down Alice! Mom, just to warn you, I may not come home with all of my digits still intact.  Just saying.
  Galley is not all work, we play too.  I learned a new sport.  Kitchen curling!  First, the slosh of soapy water is released onto the tile surface and begins to flow down towards it's target.  Next, the broomsman follows behind vigorously scrubbing the floor, moving the water along, and welcoming the dirt that has joined in along the way.  Finally, the squeegy-men follow with a broom-sized squeegies, picking up the slack that the broomsman has left.  In the end the goal is accomplished.  I'm not too sure that there is a scoring system for this activity.  But in the curler's off season, this job would be excellent practice!