The preamble to the fall.

I am cutting fruit into perfectly uniform lines, each time measuring out the millimeters between with my eyes. The kitchen is quiet as usual no jokes, no lighting people's pants on fire, just straight faced men shuffling about with an intensity that I have never known. Brioches in the oven and foie gras torchon hanging in the lowboys, everywhere there is food and cook ing but no eating. I am starving and the day is 5/12 over. There is a red spiral staircase that connects the kitchen to the prep and dish area and every time I go down it I imagine tripping and falling down to the tile below maybe with a knife stuck in my throat. I finish the fruit and begin to arrange it on the platter. It's a small task but this is the first time Chef is trusting me to do it on my own. There are two ways that this can end. He can either shake is head and look at his shoes, all while letting out a sigh "sheeesshhh, Kate no no let me see it." or he can nod in approval and the tray goes out as it is with my hands as the creator. I lay down lemons and limes, the grapefruit goes into a spiral pattern in the middle and the oranges create a wall between the citrus and height. It's just a fruit tray. But this is a different kind of kitchen. I remember the first time I ruined something. It was x-amount of minutes before service when Brian decided that my potatoes were undercooked. One only had to take a bite and find the large lumps of starch beneath the layers of decent taste. Pot on the stove, old mash in the garbage, new spuds in the water, lid on, and tears. I sat outside crying with my head at my knees crying over my mini-disaster. He came out and in a very Brian way addressed me as "Bud" and went on to give me advice that I carried with me through David's condescension and burned croutons, "It's just cookin'" And until this point that notion had served me so well through it all. But now as I finished the tray and held it up for inspection those words retreated to Tallahassee where they came from. Here perfection is paramount. Chef looked at it and nodded, I let my breath go and relaxed if only for a second. Next time it would be a "sheeesh, Kate. No no. Let me see it."