The last 2 nights I've spent learning the ropes and making my way through the maze that is back of house at my new nighttime job.

I am so sore and tired I can't even jump up and down about how exciting it is to work in a real restaurant kitchen. Both nights I've come home full of beans, dribbling from verbal diarrhoea about everything I've seen and done. That wouldn't be a problem, except it means keeping my partner up past midnight with fantastic stories to regail with maximum enthusiasm.

Thursday night went as I expected, meeting all the chefs (there were 12 on), as well as doing a small amount of food preparation.

This place is so top notch, it's unbelievable. Instead of carrying our dirty dishes to the wash-up, we deposit them in buckets specially placed around the kitchen. Once they get 3/4 full, a kitchenhand (1 of a group of 5 or 6) will scoot around, picking up our shameful messes as they go, like little squirrels chasing treasure. I'm so unused to people picking up after me in a kitchen its as far from funny as you could get. For example, I spilt some sweet potato dip out the back, and my supervisor, Chef R me told me not to worry about it and get one of the kitchenhands to clean it up. I felt so embarrassed, I couldn't ask someone else to clean up my mess, so I did it myself and got weird looks from everyone who saw me do it.

Last night, I met more chefs (a rotated roster, so I met 4 new chefs) before going downstairs to a smaller kitchen which is attached to a bar belonging to the same company. Apparently one lone chef goes down there every night to cater from 6pm til 9pm, then clambers back upstairs to help clean the restaurant kitchen with everyone else. Considering the amount of talking the chef did who took me down there, I figured it must get very lonely. I never have a problem talking to myself to keep me company, but this one just kept on going, like a duracell chef bunny.Chef R came down shortly after we'd gotten there to make sure we weren't faffing about, so I assumed 'downstairs chef' had a reputation for it. As soon as I got the call to return upstairs, I was out of there, and honestly, I can't say I wasn't happy to get back up into the action. We plated up some canapes, then mains and desserts for a function, and I helped Chef R make a mushroom duxelle, which turned out rather nice.

It might sound sad and pathetic, but when the Head and Sous Chef called on me twice that night, I got all excited. The first time I wasn't expecting it, and so flustered about, not even realising I hadn't acknowledged Chef's call with a "Oui!", before one of the other chefs had already jumped out to gave me a hand. The second time I was more ready but still got flushed with excitement for being part of the action.

Honestly, so far from my experience, just standing back and watching this well oiled machine (without anyone realise that I wasn't doing anything) gave me the best adrenaline rush, goosebumps pricked up my arms every time the team acknowledged an order.