I was surprised during my first few days in the kitchen when the pastry chef took it upon himself to teach me how to make each dessert. I thought I would be washing dishes or slicing fruit, and maybe if I were lucky, occasionally dusting a finished pie with icing sugar. However, the chef handed me his book of recipes and urged me to copy them down for myself. Surprise turned to shock when, at the end of the week, he announced that we would split the tasks: He would bake the pineapple tarte tartin, cantucci and canello, and I would make the tiramisu, fruit flan and panna cotta.

I felt both frightened and exhilarated by the level of responsibility I was being given, but I came to enjoy the confidence and trust of my co-workers. It was up to me to remember to put the gelatin leaves into the tiramisu batter. It was my fault if the fruit flan didn't get glazed. I would be blamed if the vanilla bits weren't strained from the panna cotta mixture before it set. But, even more, I felt useful. I felt like an integral part of the kitchen.

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