Before I can begin my stage (internship), it’s necessary to make an appointment with the chef. Last week I used some rather very nervous French to set a date and time with the woman in human resources. She informed me I would be meeting with Chef Laurent at 10 AM the following Tuesday. As I hung up, simultaneous feelings of excitement and dread washed over me.

The day arrives and I dress in my best to make a good impression. I bring copies of my passport, residency card, student visa, health insurance, and my resume. I’ve written down all my questions in French should I forget how to speak the language when I arrive.

The gentlemen at reception – I’m sure he has a fancy French title that I can’t pronounce – greets me between phone calls for a coveted reservation. Since I’m a couple minutes early, I’m ushered into the dining room, paneled in rich walnut colored wood. Interspersed between tables are large glass cases lit from within and housing a variety of what look like old African artifacts. Huge modern art paintings dominate the walls with copious amounts of color and texture.

All the tables are stripped bare of their linens and workers are running in an out of the restaurant like ants. They’re changing out some of the tables and chairs. As a three star restaurant, I’m guessing everything needs to be perfect, down to the last detail. It amazes me that this seemingly chaotic room will suddenly change into a calm, tranquil area in a little over an hour.

An impeccably clean chef comes to greet me. His demeanor is calm and relaxed – not at all what I expected. His day is just beginning, so I image this is the slow part of the day and there’s no need for stress at the moment. He welcomes me, sits down and proceeds to answer the thousand questions I have. I’m able to understand most of what he says in his rapid fire French. I later learn that he does speak a bit of English should I need to revert back to my native language.

I bury him in papers to show I’m fully prepared. He simply leafs through the stack and hands them back to me. Evidently he doesn’t need them. One set of papers does need a signature, so he goes to fetch the other executive chef, Chef Michel. Chef Laurent comes back out with a tall, boyishly faced chef, again dressed in spotless whites. His smile is huge and to my surprise looks quite genuine. He too seems very relaxed. I tell him it’s a honor to be working here. He grins back and nudges his colleague in the side saying, “Bon choix Laurent. Bon choix.”

Now I’m not sure if the chef realizes that I can understand what he’s saying. He’s telling Chef Laurent that he made a good decision by picking me. Although it sounds like a compliment, it makes me nervous because he’s judging the book by its cover – if you know what I mean. Chef is looking at me like his next dessert, so I can tell this will be an interesting relationship.

Chef Laurent leads me back into the kitchen and immediately hands me off to Amy. Amy was in Superior when I was in Basic. She’s an American living with her husband in Paris for his job. Like me, she has a passion for cooking. Once she completed her training, she knew she wanted to work at Guy Savoy. Since no one had ever been placed there as an intern, she marched right over with her resume in hand and convinced them to let her work there. Since she was one of the first women working at the restaurant, to say her internship was hard would be an understatement. She had to undergo a lot of hazing, harassment and long hours. But she made it through and has been rewarded with a full time job. You can read her adventures on her fabulous blog.

Amy gives me a tour of the kitchen, which is about the size of my bedroom, and explains each different station. I’m surprised yet again by how many people speak English. Of my friends who are currently doing internships, they say the language is the hardest part. I’m just thrilled to know that if I can’t understand something in French, I have people to ask in English.

In the downstairs kitchen, Amy shows me the refrigerators, the pastry stations, where all the plates are kept, and the prep areas. I imagine I’ll be spending many hours downstairs in the prep area rather than the kitchen. Service time can be very stressful and anxious. But I can’t wait to see what it looks like once I’m here.

Amy then leads me up five flights of ancient, wooden spiral stairs. This is where the lockers are and the women’s bathroom. I’m not very excited about the fact that I have to get undressed in a room full of men, so perhaps I can use the bathroom as an escape. As much as I’d love for a bunch of hotshot 20 year old chefs see my stretch marks and cellulite, I think I’ll have to pass.

She gives me the rundown on all the chefs and says that Guy Savoy is often in the restaurant each day. I can’t wait to see him in action. I do learn that the chef who looked at me like his next dessert is also the one who yells the most. He’s humiliated Amy on a couple of occasions for things that seem quite ridiculous. I silently wonder to myself when my time will come and how I will react. But I’m thankful Amy will be here in case I need a little support.

Down in the main kitchen, Amy goes back to de-boning game birds, and I take one last look around. In a month I’ll be here working 15 hour days six days a week. I will be eating lunch and dinner at the restaurant, but after reading some of Amy’s blog, I learn it’s things like tongue, calf brains, and sweet breads. Evidently the chefs here have a thing for organ meats. Hopefully there will be side dishes!

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