As I mentioned in my first posting, I attended culinary school while living and working in the Los Angeles area. I was one of those people everyone knows that loved to cook and entertain; the one that people always say should open a restaurant or catering business.
Knowing I was going to be forced to make a job change, as my division within a large aerospace company was being moved to Canada, I decided to take the opportunity to explore something completely different. Maybe I should go into catering I thought, everyone tells me to. So I took a test, passed and started culinary school at night.
The first semester I took two courses, a catering course and Principles of Cooking I. It was the latter that practically caused me to have a nervous breakdown.
At the first class we’re all a study in white; properly dressed in our starched-white chef coats, aprons and side towels, waiting to meet our instructor. We are all different … backgrounds, ages, reasons for being there. In walks the Chef. Without a smile or a hello, he somberly lays down the rules. You are not allowed to miss any classes or you fail. You must be on time, at your station, and prepared to begin work promptly at 6:00pm. If you are over 10 minutes late to his four-hour class, the class does not count and you must make it up, even if it means having to wait until the next semester. This is serious business. Got it?
He snarls as he asks each student why they are in his class. He doesn’t hide his contempt of some answers, especially when a young girl responds that she wants to learn to cook. This is, after all, a professional course; we should have already achieved a certain level of cooking expertise. After four hours of hell, we file out of class. I’m wondering how many people will return. Will I have the stomach to get through the semester? Is it worth it?
Having worked in restaurants through high school and college, I knew it was a tough industry, but I wasn’t expecting school to be like this.
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Trembling, I managed to mutter the words “thank you.” Yes, thank you Chef for manhandling my onion and for making me a nervous wreck, I really appreciate it.
I couldn’t sleep, I developed a constant pain in my neck and shoulders, I was a mess. All of this for what, what did I really expect to gain from this? Did I truly want to work in an industry full of Chefs?
Somehow I made it through the semester, even got an A-, it was to be the lowest grade I received during my year and a half of culinary school, but I was delighted. Delighted I didn’t fail and delighted to be finished with the Chef.
I switched teachers for Principles of Cooking II, using vacation days so I could get into the day course and away from the Chef. I was so happy to be with the nice, female teacher. Her class was so much more relaxing, what a relief. Then to my horror, at the end of the first session, she announced that there were not enough students to warrant two classes, so we were all being transferred to the night class. I wanted to cry. Not only was I going back to the Chef, but I’ll return with him knowing I wanted out of his class, I’m doomed!
It’s the second session, my first back with the Chef. I enter the kitchen with a big ache in my stomach. He looks at the students that transferred from the day course. He looks at me, the defector. He smiles, didn’t know he could do that, and welcomes me back. The class was completely different. He was much friendlier and even fun at times. By the end of the semester we had a little rivalry going between our alma maters’ - my Boston College and his Michigan State - football teams. He was a real person after all, who knew?
The Chef was hard on us that first semester because he wanted to separate the wheat from the chaff. He worked hard to get where he was. He graduated from Michigan State’s restaurant management school and then from the Culinary Institute of America. He paid his dues working hard in a variety of restaurants. He knew what the culinary world was like, and that it wasn’t a place for people that weren’t disciplined and dedicated. Nor was it a place for those with thin skin.
I went through three semesters with the Chef and grew to like and respect him. I received a culinary certificate in catering and event planning. In the end though, I decided that catering wasn’t for me.
I thoroughly enjoyed the experience and met a lot of great people along the way. I use the knowledge I gained every day in one way or another, and would do it all again. I have the greatest respect for those that have honed their skills and practice their craft in the culinary world, bringing us wonderful, creative food and spectacular events.
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