Jim had loved cooking since he was a small boy of just 8; he’d enjoyed cooking his family of 6 dishes like Spaghetti Bolognese, Roast Dinners, and his favourite event of the year, a Turkey dinner at Christmas. As he got older he grew to love the kitchen, and cooking even more. The smell of spices and herbs, and the scent of different foods brought joy to Jim’s heart and he told his mother and father over and over that he wanted to become a Chef.
When Jim was 16 he no longer cooked the basics, but had brought recipe book after recipe book, and was cooking his family meals like, Lamb Chops with Sweet Potato Mash and Creamed Spinach, Turkey Kebabs with Chilled Cranberry and Orange Sauce, and many other mouth-watering dish’s. His parents and siblings loved this, as it meant they didn’t have to do the cooking, and they got to have delicious meals every week. All that Jim got out of it was the joy of cooking, but that was enough for him.
When Jim was 17 he began looking into University’s and cooking courses, that’s when he stumbled across details of Chef Fredrico’s famous cooking course. Every 3 years Chef Fredrico would take on 20 young budding chef’s, and personally teach them for the 3 years, showing them how to cook amazing dishes. Anyone who got on the course was bound to be able to find a job as a Chef in any restaurant they like.
“MUM! DAD! I’ve found it! This is what I want to do!” screamed Jim, tearing into the living room.
He threw a leaflet into his parents’ laps and they both sat and read over it together. It detailed all the amazing things that Chef Fredrico’s course offered, and they knew it would be perfect for Jim. Looking up at Jim they both had glum looks on their faces.
Jim’s mother turned to Jim. “Hunny, it sound’s wonderful, but…”
His father then continued his mother’s sentence. “Son, the application deadline has already ended.”
Jim’s ear to ear smile disappeared. In his excitement he hadn’t finished reading the leaflet. The deadline had finished for applications, and the course was due to start in a year and half, which meant if he managed to get onto the following course, it would be 4 and half years before I began and for Jim, that was too far away.
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Tears gathering in his eye’s Jim got in the car that evening heading off to a part time job he had in the city about 30 minutes drive away. He worked in small restaurant kitchen, as an assistant chef, making starters and desserts. After working their for just over a year Jim hated the place, he found the food boring and repetitive a lot of it being micro-waved which he thought of as not real cooking.
He got into work, and the manager walked up to him with a grim expression on his face. “Jim, I’m afraid Dill has called in sick at the last minute your going to have to move onto mains tonight, I’ll get Mike to do starters and desserts.
Inside Jim was smiling, it was a rare occasion that he got to cook the main meals and the head chef Dill calling in sick was a stroke of luck. Jim set up the fryers and hotplate and prepared food like he had seen Dill do a million times. Orders that night came in steadily, and as the night wore on Jim became bored of cooking pie after pie in the same old fashion. The next ticket that came in was for Pork and Apple slices with a cider sauce and new potatoes, something different from pie!
Jim spent the next 20 minutes cooking up a fresh wonderful meal for the lucky person whose ticket it was. Lots of tickets had built up behind him, but he didn’t care, he had decided that it was the night he would be quitting and he wanted to make his one last meal his best. He finished off the meal with some garnish and sent it out. He then proceeded to tell Mike to do mains, which Mike was more than happy to do and then Jim left the kitchen.
After 5 minutes of talking to his boss Jim had quit and was just about to leave when Jenny one of the waitresses called out to him.
“JIM! Wait a second, this guy on table 102 wants to talk to the chef.” She pointed over to a man sitting by himself at a table, eating the meal Jim had just sent out.
Jim blinked, the blinked again, he then proceeded to rub his eyes.
“It can’t be…” he whispered under his breath.
He walked towards the table, like he was floating on air, and as he reached it the man turned to face him.
“Are you the chef? This meal is amazing! Much more than I expected from this run down place.”
“Ye…. Yes.” Jim’s hands were shaking. “Your Chef Fredrico…. I’ve been looking at your cooking course, and wanted nothing more to be on it, but the deadline for applications has already ended.”
“What your name boy?”
“Jim”
“Well with cooking like this, you don’t need an application. I want you on my course in a year and a half, here’s my card, phone my office and give them your details. I’ll be seeing you in a year and a half.” The old man gave Jim a big grin.
Jim turned and ran out of the door leaping into the air with a punch. He raced home to tell his family the amazing news.
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Half a year had gone by and Jim had turned 18, and had just finished college. With a year till the course began he decided to go to Africa, a place which had always interested him, with its strange native dishes. To keep things cheap he would be backpacking it, and would be helping native’s of a very poor region to learn to cook, it all being part of some gap year agency for students.
His bags packed he left home with he family waving goodbye as his plane took off.
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“Today, I’ll be showing you how to cook an omelette.” Jim said facing his class.
They were out in the open in a small native village. The village was build around a small water well, which was basically the whole village’s life line. They had various cattle and crops, which they lived off. For Jim, it was very much back to basics, he had to take into account what the village had as food supplies and then try to come up with ideas for meals which he could show them how to cook.
His class consisted of children of 8 up to adults of 54, there being about 25 of the villagers in his class, all having little or no experience in cooking. Jim had to start with very basic dishes, but to the villagers they were amazing meals and they were all very happy to be taught how to cook anything.
After the lesson had finished the villagers headed off to other work that they had to do, but one girl stayed behind.
“Jim, can your help me?” said the girl, like all the villagers she couldn’t speak English that well.
“Sure, what was your name again?”
“Alika, can you help cook?”
Jim now remembered her, she had been in a few of his classes, and if he remembered rightly was 19.
“Umm ok. What do you want me to cook?”
“Follow” she said as she ran over to a hut.
Jim followed her into the wooden hut, to find her near a small makeshift cooker.
“I want my father to have cooked meal.” Alika said with a smile.
Jim understood and started to show Alika how to cook a nice meal for her father. She had taken some small strips of beef out of a cupboard, and Jim instructed her step by step as she prepared a meal.
The meal was cooked and Alika began serving it onto 3 wooden bowls.
“For you” she said pointing at one of them.
“Thank you” Jim smiled.
Just as he sat down at the small table Alika sprinkled a small amount of spice onto Jim’s plate.
