*Note, some cursing, and may be a little graphic for the queasy.”
I do apologize for the slight lapse in the blog posts. Miss Cheesemonger is getting prepared planning her switch to “Mrs. Cheesemonger,” in a month, and a recital in 2 weeks! I am struggling a bit to write coherent posts, but I am still taking photos at work. Bear with me, this will all be over in about a month . . . .
If you read any food literature, you will know that kitchens have drama! Well, I don’t know if this is necessarily drama, but it did get my adrenaline racing for the rest of the day. I just finished helping a customer, and was cleaning up the counter when I heard a roaring, “F*****CCCKKKKK!!!!!!” from Zoe, who was prepping in the kitchen. I was just debating whether I should go run or stroll to see what was the matter when the next roar came. “VVEEEERRRROOOOO!” I figured that meant I should go running. “I CUT OFF THE TIP OF MY FINGER.”
Gulp gulp. Uhhh . . . . The first thought that crossed my mind was, “ICE. We need ice to keep the finger tip until we get to the hospital.” Poor Zoe, she was so obviously scared! I rushed around getting ice, gulped and didn’t think about it too much as I put the small piece of flesh into the ice container. Figuring we didn’t really need to call 911, we locked up the store and dashed off to the nearest medical clinic, all the while hoping I had enough gas for the trip.
Zoe, ever the musician, really wasn’t too freaked out by the blood or the missing flesh, but she was worried she wouldn’t be able to play the guitar again. (Don’t worry, it wasn’t that bad). HOWEVER, the medical clinic was a complete waste of time! As we rushed through the doors, and asked for immediate assistance, one lone worker, apparently a secretary, just stated, “Um, I don’t know if you read it on the door, but we’re closed now.” OH??? WHERE IS THE NEAREST HOSPITAL?? “I don’t know.” WHAAAT?
Seeing how futile this situation was, Zoe and I rushed back to the car to go to the hospital, about 15 minutes away. In the end, poor Zoe lost the fingertip, but it wasn’t too significant a cut . . . The doctors at the hospital told her that they would only reattach it if it was very close to the bone. This cut wasn’t significant enough . . . if that makes it any better. I suppose this is a good reminder that safety is key in the kitchen, and that you always need to pay attention when you have a knife in your hands.
I rushed back to the store because there was still business to attend to! Within 1 minute, I was back to making cheese plates as if nothing had happened. Later that evening, Zoe did stop by with her family, and she looked all right. I think she’ll be back to making her stellar doughs in no time.
For the voyeurs among you, NO, I do not have any photos, but the thought briefly crossed my mind as I was rushing to lock up the store, find my license, and dodge traffic. However, since Zoe was so clearly distressed, it would definitely not have been in good taste to take photos of any of this.
Since the incident, I feel like Carlos has been giving me extra safety tips, like that I should cut the Piave with the double-handled knife instead of the wire, unless I want a wire-shaped whiplike scar on my face. “Safety first,” he breathes as he verifies that everything is in place for the evening.
All in a day’s work, right?