With the Fire on High by Elizabeth Acevedo
Fail
“Under what conditions do pathogens that contaminate food grow?” Chef Ayden scans the room. “Sharif?” Sharif looks down at his station as if the answer is written in magical ink. He shrugs. Chef Ayden makes a note on his clipboard. Today we were surprised with a verbal pop quiz. In addition to studying the components of a recipe, learning to plate, and learning to serve, Chef Ayden also wants us to prepare for the ServSafe test. He rarely quizzes us like other teachers, with a written-down test. Instead he asks questions out loud and you have to be quick on your feet. He says being able to respond quickly and efficiently is how it will be in a real kitchen. And although we hate the quizzes, we all want to pass the ServSafe test. If we pass that test, not only do we pass the class, but we are also given a certificate by the city that proves we know how to safely handle food and can work at a restaurant. Technically, with that certificate I could apply to take over Steve’s job at the Burger Joint. I don’t want Steve’s job, but I like knowing I have the credentials to take it from him if I wanted to.
“Emoni.”
I stop tucking away the ends of my head scarf. Chef said I could wear this instead of a hat as long as it keeps my hair out of my face and my pots. My curls were not fitting under that hat. “Yes, Chef Ayden?”
“At what temperature is chicken considered time-temperature abused?”
My eyebrows shoot up. I hadn’t paid attention to the temperature portion of the study guide. . . . Chicken is done when it’s done.
“Emoni?”
I close my eyes. “When you cut the chicken, you want the inside to show only the slightest hint of whitish-pink, since the chicken will keep—”
He makes a note on his clipboard. “Emoni, what pieces of information need to be on the label of food you plan to store in the freezer?”
“The expiration date. I mean, the date the food was prepared. And the time the food was prepared. The name of the food?”
I look at the spot right over Chef’s shoulder; I can’t meet his eyes. He makes another note on his clipboard. “You’re not wrong. But you’re also not technically right. You have a sense of what works. You understand it in practice. But you still need to learn the technicalities. Cooking is a science; it’s more than just instinct.”
Although I want to drop my head, I keep my chin up. This is exactly what I was afraid of, that this class would be more about what I could memorize than what I could do. Most of us signed up for this class to travel and cook, and we haven’t discussed either.
Chef Ayden seems to be waiting for me to say something, but I just stare at him silently. He shakes his head. “Leslie, talk to me about storing food. Where is the safest place to store dry goods?”
And when the attention swings to Pretty Leslie I finally drop my gaze, shame like the bacteria Chef Ayden asked about spreading under my skin.