Cuts, Burns, a New Room

The sizzle of steak, the hiss of steam, the curses of Peter. These are the sounds that usher me into the kitchen. The last two weeks of manipulating food into edible meals has been superb. I have been stationed on the Japanese side of the menu, learning a lot of new recipes, and an extensive list of techniques. From skinning fish, rolling sushi, making gyoza from scratch, to frying tempura and agedashi tofu, and preparing seafood nabe, I am kept busy far longer than when previously in housekeeping. Nightly oil burns and scalding fingertips will never deter me from being in the kitchen. Even the rest of the staff have been joking about how much happier I seem now that housekeeping is behind me.
After a few nights of scrambling about, attempting to keep up with a full house, a 3 table night is a relieving thought to all involved in the mayhem. Of course, my gratitude was cut short when notified that it is finally my turn to make the staff meal. Just my luck... Preparing meals for three tables is a fine sight on the distant horizon when faced with the daunting task of making a meal for 25 hungry Japanese, alone. Dont let their size fool you. They eat a lot. I scanned the pantry, walk-in, and the freezers for options. Finally settling on poached meatballs, roasted veg, and garlic bread, I began a frantic chopping spree. Long story short, my conversions from american to metric, then multiplying for 25 were a bit off and I was left with A LOT of meatballs and not enough sauce to poach in. Poaching some, roasting others, and frying the rest, I managed to put food on the table in time for the vultures to feast. Needless to say, I was quite relieved to know that only three tables would need to be fed.
An hour or two later, across flaming pans, and steaming pots I see Peter give me a joyous arm pump. The third table isn't coming. We. Are. Done. The two of us scrub counters, mop floors, and store our mise en place between loads of the dishwasher. Suddenly, without warning, the dishwasher doors explode open and fly off the spring loaded hinges nearly crashing through the window. We look at each other, aware of the curses that are inevitably racing around each others minds. Its happened before. Not an easy fix. Especially with two people.
An hour of pinched skin, cuts from metal edges, and irate roars, the previously dismantled dishwasher was once again washing another load. (Although it was covered in numerous bloody fingerprints...) A bloody high five, a quick cleanup and we walked out of the kitchen, straight for the beer fridge.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. After Take and Yasu (real name, not Yasu clone) left today, Daichi, who moved into the camper after me, and I rock-paper-scissored for the two newly vacated rooms. Victorious, I moved my things into the bigger room, complete with queen size bed, and vaulted ceilings. Much better than living between the toilet and the girl who regularly makes weird unexplainable noises late into the night. Too bad for the new guy who comes tomorrow!