And then there was this unforgettable cooking class…
…and I say “unforgettable” not in the sense of like, “it was amazing”, or “it was the best ever!”, but more like “it was a bit awkward and bizarre, and we will not soon forget it”.
Our instructors name was Ivana. She showed up to meet us about 15 minutes late a bit sweaty and disheveled. Her bike lock key had broke so this is totally forgivable, but it was a little foresight into the day ahead. Before I go into detail about the things that were a little weird and off putting about this class, I should say that in many ways some things were actually pretty great. We got to see the local fish market and green market and learn a little bit about it, we got some history and background about the town, we learned how to clean a sardine and an eel, and we made some pretty good food.
The main complaint I’d say we had about this class would be Ivana herself. She was a bit of a nut job. She was bossy, which I think she was trying to pull off in a bossy old grandma in the kitchen that everybody actually loves sort of way, but it came in a mean boss who thinks you do everything wrong sort of way. She would regularly tell us we weren’t doing things right after giving us only one chance, and take kitchen utensils from us and give them to somebody else. She told Bernadette that her photo taking was annoying and she seemed to berate the men. She was overall pretty abrasive, but the confusing part was that we weren’t really sure if she was trying to be that way or if her weird sense of humor was totally lost in translation. This poor retired Belgian couple was with us who barely spoke a lick of English so I can only imagine what they might have been thinking.
A turning point came when we were plating up our dishes and placing them on the table. Ivana accidentally dropped our entire course of fish simmered in olive oil and fig marinade. The dish would have been the star of the entire meal, bet ended up scattered across the ground. At that point I think Ivana was humbled a little bit and things seemed to take a sharp turn for the better. I don’t know, maybes he has a terrible morning with some personal matters an we ended up on the wrong end of her day, but things seemed to be a little lighter near the end. (Yet, still far from comfortable)
Our final menu started with salad, breaded and fried anchovies and eel, fresh baked bread, and the main course (subtracting what ended up on the ground) was a pretty delicious Dalmatian fish stew with tomatoes and polenta.
While I’ll never regret the class because of the story I’ll always have from it, if you’re in Trogir and thinking about taking a cooking class, go to the beach instead.
