Gild the Lily

Cream. It's all about the cream, I tell ya.
Think about it - you've got your cream pies, cream puffs, cream cheese, Boston cream donuts... imagine pumpkin pie without whipped cream on top? Not even worth eating. If something looks unappetizing I hear a little voice in my head: "Meh, poot leetle bit whip cream - now, ees goot." (for some reason, all the good cooking advice in my head is in a Greek accent.) No matter what kind of gunk I'm serving, if I top it with a dollop I'm guaranteed at least one "mmmm". Why is this? Beats me.

Oh, so much has happened in such a short while - including the consumption of several litres of whipping cream. The assistant cook has come and gone, the new cooler has finally been finished, the second crew has been fired...

As it happened, I did share my good coffee with the Chef. And she did load my dishwasher wrongly, but I didn't care. She saw that things were not entirely FoodSafe, and she didn't care. It was fabulous having someone to "talk food" with, even if she did talk down to me a bit, like assuming I didn't know what "minionette" was. (It's actually spelled "mignonette" and it's like a vinegar sauce for oysters. I googled it when she wasn't looking.) She didn't cook better than me, just different. Sort of "new-school" vs. "old-school". Probably not enough whipping cream invoved in her meals; the guys did revolt and demand more meat.

In any case, sharing a kitchen never works well, and I'm not entirely disappointed that her position was no longer needed once the second work crew hit the chopping block. Now I have sole possesion of the kitchen, dining hall, cooler and pantry, and I know if my can of chickpeas is still there on Monday morning. All is as it should be.

The second crew? Well, it was astounding to observe the work ethic of that bunch. Or lack thereof. One guy actually said "I didn't expect to have to work to keep my job." ?! That just leaves one speechless. Is it just me, or is that the most amazing oxymoronic statement ever? Heavy on the "moronic". It became a running joke amongst the first crew that Monday mornings were devoted to fixing whatever the second crew had messed up over the weekend. Sometimes all of Monday. We started calling them "the A Team" and "the F Team". And then one bright Monday morning the Foreman was doing his rounds and discovered that, despite repeated instruction, the fellow doing the cooler floor had completely bungled the tile job. Not out of ignorance, but out of stupidity, or spite, or stubborness. The entire floor had to be ripped up and redone. (Happily, he'd FUBARed it so badly that the ripping up part was pretty easy!) And the Foreman said "ENOUGH!", made a flying trip to the manager's office (which, in this case, was the front seat of said manager's pickup, as the toddler was sleeping in the back - we're an easy-going bunch around here) and that was the end of the WonderDummies.
Granted, a couple of them made the cut and will join Team Allstar for the Monday - Thursday shift. This includes the guy who smoked pot after work on his first day up here (we don't allow liquor - never mind the alternatives! But no solid evidence and no repetition, so...); and the dyslexic medic who, according to his First Aid records, prescribed Advil for Bill's "menstrual" pain.
(Foreman: What's this??
Medic: Oh, um... it was the other day... for pain...
Foreman: Bill?! Menstrual?!
Medic: Oh, it's supposed to say "muscular". I'm dyslexic.)
(Now that he's dyslexic we can't make fun of him. Phooey.) So, we've got PotHead and MyslexicDedic here; they were the cream of the crop of Team F!! Wow. You see my point.

But, all it means to me is that I throw another pie in the oven, another jug of cream in the KitchenAid mixer. Life goes on.