Let’s think back to our last day of classes.  Coincidentally, it was my birthday.  It was March, which in Vermont, means it was slushy.  Spring was on the cusp, internship awaited, and we got out of that town lickety-split. 

My half birthday is in ten days.  Being 20 ½ years old won’t mean much, but it stuns me how much I’ve learned in six months, let alone in the year I’ve been a NECI student.    

While skills are the first things that come to mind when pondering my lessons of late, there are other things I’ve learned that lie deeper within.  I began internship at Topper’s Restaurant on Nantucket.  It began well enough, but shortly after arriving on island I had a serious back injury that caused crippling pain and hung low on my usually cheery disposition.  At work, I was able to remain positive, but I was told that if my health didn’t improve, I wouldn’t be able to continue working through the busy season.  I immediately learned something about myself; I was able to see when a situation wasn’t right for me.  It may seem insignificant, but had I not realized that so early on, I wouldn’t have been able to work at my new internship site at the Trapdoor Bakehouse & Café in Quechee, Vermont.  I took control.  I contacted Career Services, researched different sites, looking for a smaller more community driven location, and booked ferry tickets to leave Nantucket, travel to New Hampshire, and start what I consider to be educational internship.  

Since I began at Trapdoor, I’ve become a cheery girl again.  While my back isn’t completely healed, I’ve been continually seeking chiropractic help and progress is being made.  At Trapdoor, I not only bake everyday, but I get to work front of the house and serve customers the pastries I created.  It’s so gratifying being able to make someone smile. 

Out of everything I’ve learned, there are a few things that will stick with me the most.  First, listen to yourself.  Your body, your mind, your heart, itknows when something isn’t right.  Second, never think you’re doing something perfectly; it can always be better.  And thirdly, smile.  Whether it’s at my Chef, a coworker, or a customer, if you smile at them and warmly greet them, nothing bad will come of it.  It’s small, but it can make the world of difference in a place of work.  My internship has transformed me into a better version of myself.  I’m stronger, I’ve further learned the value of kindness, and am far more knowledgeable about baking, pastry, and the elements of running a business. 

Were I to make a dish for my coworkers, I’d take the philosophy of Trapdoor and make it with love, use local ingredients, and include a favorite of each of ours.  Out of the small staff at Trapdoor, there are three women that I’ve worked the majority of my days with; Chef Theo, Chloe, and Padma.  I’d do a variation of a scallop linguini dish I created in early July in order to include all of our favorites.  For Padma, the scallops themselves, for me, the pasta, for Chef, a handful of fresh basil, scallions, and parsley, and for Chloe, a whopping mountain of juicy cherry tomatoes from the farm down the road form my house.  It’s a warming meal.  Each bite is different than the next, just as each day of my internship was constantly evolving; the flavors contiguously mingling in different ratios.   Some bites you get a lot of garlic, some days you get a bout of grouchy customers.  Though some bites seem too big to chew, by the end, you’re pleasantly satisfied, and wanting more. 

Scallops&Pasta

1 box of pasta

1 bag of sea scallops

2 cloves garlic chopped

2 scallions chopped

1 cup dry white wine

3 T butter

2 T Olive Oil

3 Basil leaves chopped

6 Parsley leaves chopped

Salt&Pepper

1 box cherry tomatoes

1. Cook pasta in salted boiling water
2. Once pasta is in water, combine 1 T olive oil  and 2 T butter until melted over medium high heat
3. Pat the scallops dry with a paper towel, sprinkle with salt and pepper, and cook in pan for 2 minutes, turn, and cook 2 more minutes
4. Strain pasta, strain scallops, and set aside with foil over them to keep warm
5. Empty the pan from the scallops, and add 1 T olive oil
6. Add scallions, garlic, and tomatoes
7. Once slightly browned, add the white wine and some salt and pepper
8. When alcohol has cooked out of wine, add 1 T of butter to thicken
9. Add the pasta and the scallops to the sauce and cook for a minute to coat the noodles

10. Add the basil and turn off the heat

11. Add more salt and pepper to taste and serve hot

At Trapdoor Bakehouse & Café, there is no separation between the front of the house and back of the house staff; we all do everything.  From prepping, cooking, baking, plating, decorating, cleaning, doing dishes, running the cash register, and serving customers, the small staff at Trapdoor does each of these things on a daily basis.  

The staff consists of the owner and chef, Theo, with Chloe, Padma, Tara, and myself.  Whenever something isn't covered, whether it be a sink of dishes, a panini needing pressing, or a customer requiring three chocolate croissants and a large coffee to go, whoever has a free hand jumps over to whatever needs to be done.  

When I began my internship, I was first trained as a baker.  Once I'd become familiar with the kitchen and had proved I was a competent intern, I learned how to run the cash register and began helping customers.  

Perhaps it is because my coworkers and I are constantly switching tasks, our work is never boring or redundant.  I'm excited to go to work every day and thoroughly enjoy my time there.  I get to mix and bake breads, make croissants start to finish, create tarts, pies, and cookies galore, and to top it off I get to serve and talk to customers.  I'm a people person, and when in my first Internship on Nantucket, I truly missed having a connection with guests as I was unable to leave the kitchen.  I'm so glad that I now get to talk to customers, give suggestions, and most importantly, fill their bellies with delicious food.  

It was quinoa, then pomegranites, then açai berries.  The "it" superfood to eat changes every year and becomes the one thing your diet is missing.  This years trend: chia seeds. 

Upon hearing this for the first time, I was convinced there was some sort of mistake.  Chia seeds were what you planted in a ceramic pot shaped like Homer Simpson, and then grew out as "hair," as you watered it.  This is was meal I intended to enjoy.  

However, chia seeds won me over as that last little something to sprinkle on my cereal, or to throw into my fruit smoothie.  They have a very neautral flavor but are packed with nutritional values.  There are 11 grams of fiber in one ounce of chia seeds, causing you to feel full more quickly and therefor stopping you from over eating.  Chia seeds are also a source of omega-3 fatty acids, found in fish, and proteins, found in meat and eggs.  If veganism is your dietary way of life, chia seeds may be the answer to finding nutrition most commonly found in animal products.  

Chia seeds can be used in an infinite number of dishes.  Due to their fiber they can easily thicken a soup or a sauce when ground.  When wet, the seeds develop a gelatinous shell around them that results in a creamier soup or suace.  The seeds can also be sprinkled on fresh fruits, salads, granola, cereal, or even ice cream.  My personal favorite way of getting my daily dose of chia is to blend them into my morning smoothie: Frozen blueberries, a banana, grapes, almond milk, a leaf of swiss chard, and a dash of chia.  I'm full for hours and feel good about what I'm eating.  

Chia seeds are a trend that I expect to stick around even after the next "it" superfood is flying off the shelves of grocery stores.  

Leadership in a kitchen is vitally important.  A kitchen in dissaray results in unhappy costomers and ultimatley, unhappy chefs.  I think leadership is the ability to make people listen.  It's knowing what to do, how to delegate, and how to keep calm in times of stress.  

An example of leadership in the kitchen that comes to mind was a night I had at Topper's in May.  The freezer where we kept our sorbets had decided there was no better time to defrost then in the middle of service.  One of our dessert items comes with a side of raspberry milk sorbet, not raspberry milk soup.  Improvising, I folded raspberry jam into our still-frozen vanilla ice cream, and the dish was sent out to the guest.  

In Topper's, perfection is very important to the chefs, as it is a very prestigious restaurant.  Leadership mostly comes through on extremely busy nights.  The kitchen ran smoothly, but sometimes the executive chef would have to pull out some serious leadership skills on the wait staff.  Tickets were being sent in at the wrong time, dishes were taken before the tables had been cleared of the previous course, and there never seemed to be runners when they were needed.  Chef had to take leadership not only of his kitchen, but of the servers so that the restaurant would operate smoothly.  He didn't yell, he explained.  He made eye contact with each person so that they knew this message was for them to absorb and adhere to.  It was a very succesful bout of leadership that resulted in a smoothly run saturday night full of happy guests. 

Nantucket is beautiful.  This is well known.  The bay waves lap feet away from my internship site, TOPPER's.  From the top floor of my site, both the bay and the Atlantic can be seen.  Flowers are blooming here much earlier than they would be in Vermont, and blue skies are a near constant.  However, there are some things about working in a kitchen that make life on Nantucket a bit less perfect, and certainly less beautiful.  
I'd forgotten the toll cooking takes on one's hands.  Just during the month I spent at home, my hands went back to their usual soft state.  My nails long and painted with sparkly polish andmy fingers adorned with 5 silver rings, every day.  Alas, the kitchen doesn't like any of these things.  Having only spent a week on Nantucket, I already have chef hands again.  
Blister where my knife hits, dry cracked surface skin from flour sucking every bit of moisture out of them, and the saddest looking cracked, peeling, and brittle nails I've ever seen.  
Having chef hands is inevitable when working in a kitchen.  And though I miss the polish, the rings, and the soft smooth touch of my fingertips, I'm so happy to be working at TOPPER's, making ice creams, sorbets, breads, and plated desserts.  

Though it took several wrong turns, numerous miles traveled in the completely wrong direction, and one big fat headache, I finally found my internship site.  I didn’t think it was possible to get lost on an island as small as Nantucket, but alas, Siri, my first mate via my iPhone, managed to direct me towards every one way street (going the wrong way, mind you,) every cobble stone alley, and every road-killed-bunny before actually getting me to The Wauwinet.   

During the initial search for the Inn, the place I’d been dreaming about working in since November, I’d had such high hopes that everything would be just around the corner, and that Siri would be more than willing to lead me there with her electronic voice of encouragement.  However, when I hit the ocean, I figured I had gone a little out of the way.  I asked a fellow doing landscaping who only spoke Spanish if he knew where it was.  He said he didn’t, so I turned around and went home.  It turns out I’d been in the exact right place, but The Wauwinet hadn’t opened for the season yet, hence they hadn’t put out their signs. 

Let it be known, every building on Nantucket looks exactly the same.  Whether it be a house, grocery store, or in this case, an Inn, they’re all covered with grey shingles and surrounded by blue hydrangeas. 

The following day, I returned to the Wauwinet, now adorned with hand painted signs reading; “The Wauwinet Inn, The Inn by the Sea,” and “Topper’s Restaurant at The Wauwinet.”  While it still looked like every house around it, and within a 15 mile radius for that matter, it somehow had a different air.  This would be my place of work for the next 5 months.  A place in which I would grow, learn, and finally be paid to do my favorite thing: baking. 

I was greeted with open arms and warm smiles.  The other chefs had been returning to Topper’s for years and had a family-like bond with each other.  Inside jokes that hadn’t been discussed since the end of last year’s season rekindled within minutes.  Hugs and inquiries about family and work sprung out of nowhere between the group of chefs.  I smiled and puttered about my station, wiping my knives clean, as they twittered around me.  But this feeling of being just outside a wonderful family lasted only a moment, as Executive Chef Kyle scooped me up by the sleeve and introduced me to everyone in site from the chefs to the stewards, the housekeepers, managers, and pretty much the entire staff of the Inn and restaurant.  I wasn’t introduced as a student, as a visitor, I was just “Annabelle, the new pastry girl.”  I was an equal and was quickly drawn into the feeling of togetherness. 

While Siri may have taken her sweet time getting me to the right building, I knew I’d gotten myself there.  It was I that found the restaurant online, immediately drawn in to the beautiful setting and the various menus.  It was I that applied right after new years, not applying to any other place because I knew this was where I wanted to go.  It was I that took the four-hour drive and the two-hour ferry ride to get to the island.  And it was I that drove the car over the cobblestone, clunking over brick speed bumps, and passing miles upon miles of daffodils.  Siri was just along for the ride, but I was so proud of myself for getting to Topper’s on my own. 

I've always been a bit clumsy.  Accidents and injuries that seemed ridiculously difficult to get always seemed to happen to me.  When I was 4 I cut my finger with a butter knife, at age 6 I got a 7 inch gash on my arm by falling onto a screen, and on my first day of 11th grade I stepped on a tic-tac sized piece of glass that had to be removed with surgery.  
Coming to a school in which knives were constantly by your side had me worried that I was putting myself at risk for more injuries.  However, since I've gotten here, I've proudly stayed fairly intact.  
A few cuts here and there weren't a big deal, nor were the burns I received during my cooking theory practical as I hurriedly purreed my tomato sauce with minutes to spare; scalding red liquid searing my hands as it splattered out of the pot.  
No, cuts and burns are much too expected, and my injuries are anything but.  Since I've been here, I've managed to have my thumb blow up to the size of a grapefruit multiple times from whisking for hours on end.  I've had an extremely swollen forearm from folding flour-less chocolate cake batter and countless meringues.  
But the most amusing injury so far has been the popping of a blood vessel on the top of my hand.  The sad part is, this didn't even happen in the kitchen, however I do have kitchen tools to blame.  You see, my friend, Jordan, has decided that the most fun activity he can do daily is to trip me while I walk so I stumble.  After this happened everyday for 3 months,  I decided to smack his arm to get him to stop.  However, his chef thermometer in his chef jacket decided to greet the back of my hand.  Immediately I saw the vein turn green. 
"Jordan!  Something's wrong...did you break my hand?"  I sputtered while I watched my hand swell and change color before my very eyes.  
Apparently popping blood vessels was something he'd done many times and assured me it would heal soon.  I wasn't so sure, as it changed color 8 times during the course of the day.  The swollen lump looked like an extra hand on top of mine, and was pulsing with pain throughout the day.  By the time I got to Science Connection lab that afternoon, it was so painful I decided to fashion a make-shift ice pack.  I filled a latex glove with ice and taped it to my hand with masking tape, there literally was another hand on top of mine.   Though it looked ridiculous, I was able to perform the task of sautéing kale with minimal pain. 
After the pain had subsided, I found the humor in the situation.  I called it my "mood hand," as like a mood ring it changed color several times throughout the next few days.  
While the swelling and discoloration has disappeared,  the top of my right his is still tender to the touch.  The pain is 

I knew a pet chicken named George.  She was the only bird that I wasn't terrified to go near.  Having been afraid of birds my entire life, when George was introduced to me I instinctively ran away covering my eyes.  For some reason, I had it engraved into my mind that all birds had the goal of pecking out my eyeballs.  
George was gentle, she didn't ever go near my eyes, and I began to think of her as my own pet.  I'd hold her, stroke her feathers, and cluck at her lovingly across the yard.  
Fast forward a year, and a hotel pan full of raw chickens was placed in front of me on the first day of Cooking Theory class.  I instantly wanted to cry, faint, and throw up all at once.  George would not approve of this.  Touching raw poultry was something I'd been avoiding my entire life.  But there they were, and they needed to have the meat, fat, and flesh taken off the bones for stock.  
By the end of class I'd been holding back tears for hours and wanted to run back to my friends house to see George.
On one of the last days of class, I was again given a hotel pan of raw chickens.  But I didn't let myself fear the chickens, I knew I could do it if I could block out the emotions.  Those chickens weren't George, they weren't loving pets, they were food.  I still love George, and I still loved roast chicken, but now, I know that there's definitely a difference between the two and that emotions don't always belong in the kitchen.