I am nervous. Really nervous. I actually have nightmares about deboning chickens.
In my new business venture, I had planned on taking myself to the SIAL food show in Paris. I have never been to this famed food show, although I have been fortunate enough to have been involved in the development of a SIAL D’Or winning product or two. I figured while I was there, I should see if I could take a class at the Cordon Bleu. I have long wanted to take a class at the legendary cooking school – long before Julie and Julia was in the theatres. While on their site, I noticed a two week course in gastronomy. One week at the Cordon Bleu, one week at the University of Reims. There was an entire morning dedicated to the “bubble dynamics in Champagne”! I found myself writing an essay, uploading my resume and applying. I waited for them to email me for my credit card number, but was informed I’d have to wait until the “selection committee” had met to review all applicants, and I’d be advised if I were successful or not. Well so much for that.
Almost one month later, I received formal notice, that I had, in fact, been accepted. I did however, have to send them my university transcript. Yeah, like I had that on hand. Have you ever sent your university transcript anywhere?
Twenty-five students from around the world would meet in Paris October 10th for two intensive weeks of gastronomy study. I’ve always wanted to know about the bubble dynamics in Champagne!
So it’s all good. Except I am nervous. Nervous as hell. I am worried the other twenty four students will be like culinary geniuses, and then there will be me – asking for remedial help in the evolution of Camambert in the 14th century. Maybe there has been a mistake and they meant to accept some other Canadian. There is even a final exam, and a thesis to be written. What on earth will I write my thesis about? The role of the homemade chocolate chip cookie in the raising of good Canadian citizens?
And the travel warnings. They don’t exactly help with the nerves. I will be in Paris though. Paris, where you are never far away from something really tasty. If things get really bad, I will skip class and eat cheese. Lots and lots of cheese.
