A few days ago, I saw my chef talking to an older man with a funny-looking wicker basket. She called me over for what turned into an all-organic olive oil tasting. The guy had finishing oil as well, so that we could compare ours to his. After trying the oil we use, the man (who looked and talked a little like Jeffrey Steingarten) searched for a word to describe it, and eventually went with "cloying." 

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I had to bite my cheek to hold back laughter, because really, who calls olive oil cloying? But my laughter stopped short, because I suddenly realized that since diving into kitchen life, I've probably become less interested in food.

If I had participated in this tasting a year ago, I would have been writing down everything he said and deciding which oil to get. But now, I was much more concerned with getting the line set up. 

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Most people my age can't fill a bookshelf with titles like Working the Plate, Bouchon and Fork it Over. But since I've jumped fully into the restaurant scene, my collection has grown by exactly zero volumes. The day before I began my journey to sous chefdom, I got three books in the mail. Today, they still lie untouched on my floor. 

So now, as I learn ordering and begin to manage a little more, I'm wondering if that sort of "food is fun" passion will ever come back. I've heard it does. I hope I heard right.