02 a leap of faith: my hopes and fears on entering the CCA

Monday, September 20, 2004

It’s graduation day at the California Culinary Academy, and I’m proudly awaiting a delectable meal with my friends and family in the Careme Room. As we begin to grow impatient waiting for our food, it suddenly dawns on me that I shouldn’t be sitting at a table in the dining room with my family – I’m supposed to be cooking this meal for my final exam!

I rush back to the bustling kitchen where a chef in an imposing white toque brusquely tells me to prepare a tomato coulis. A choking panic rises in my chest as I realize that I don’t even know what a coulis is, much less how to prepare one. I haphazardly wander through the bustling kitchen, tracking down a rusty old bread knife and a couple of rotting tomatoes. I have no idea what to do, and I’m suddenly paralyzed with the realization that I’m about to fail…

…I wake up.

It’s two weeks before I’m due to start cooking school, and these nightmares are becoming more and more frequent. As the mailings from the California Culinary Academy pile up (“Financial Aid Checklist,” “Career Development Workshops,” “MANDATORY Orientation Meeting!!”), and as I get busier seeing friends for the “last” time before I start my year of 6-hour work days followed by 5-hour evening cooking classes, my anxiety is building to heights I haven’t experienced since opening night of my first school play.

In going to cooking school I’m taking a lot of risks without a clear idea of when or how they might actually pay off. Attending school is a huge investment -- $45,000 for tuition alone, plus the lost pay that I won’t be getting since I’ve had to scale back to 30-hours a week at my day job. I’m also sacrificing time with my Realtor-boyfriend of more than two years – he works most weekends, while I, as a working student, will only have weekends available.

But beyond the financial and personal sacrifices, I’m not convinced that the path most culinary students pursue once they leave cooking school is the one I want to take. Professional chefs work 12-15 hour days, on the very days that most people are relaxing and enjoying themselves. They slave over hot stoves and perform back-breaking labor in high-stress environments, where many ultimately crack under the pressure. And cooks are notoriously underpaid – if I were to achieve the same salary that I currently make as a technical writer for a Silicon Valley software company, I would need to have years of restaurant experience under my belt and be promoted to one of the top positions in a kitchen. This knowledge is daunting, and with somewhat naive idealism I’m entering school hoping I will somehow find an alternative career path that will allow me to succeed in what I’m most passionate about – food – without having to sacrifice my family life and financial potential.

One alternative I have considered is food writing. I’m currently developing a series of restaurant reviews that I can offer as samples should I ever apply for a food writing job. However, in talking to other food writers, and in taking a class on food writing through the local UC Extension, I’ve learned that making a career in food writing is even more challenging than becoming a chef. People who write about food must deal with constant rejection, and once they are received by a publisher, only the most well-known authors are guaranteed any kind of significant advance and royalty structure. One food writer put it most bluntly when she said, “Food writers can succeed only with the support of a patron, an inheritance, or a winning lottery ticket.”

Of course there are other opportunities beyond restaurant cooking and food writing – I could start a small catering business, or become a personal chef for a wealthy family. I could open a small grocery store and purvey high-end imported products, the best organic produce, and gourmet delicacies, in the style of San Francisco’s beloved Bi-Rite Market. Or I could become an artisinal producer of a particular ingredient, such as cheese, chocolate, or olive oil, or study wine and become a sommelier. The ideas quickly dart through my head, but I remain consumed with uncertainty. What do I really want from cooking school?

Well-meaning friends remind me that even if I’m uncertain about my future after the CCA, “At least you’ll be able to make really good food for the rest of your life!” I smile at their enthusiasm, but I want more than that kind of superficial knowledge – in cooking school, I hope to discover what to do with the rest of my life. My leap of faith is that while learning about the five mother sauces and honing my knife skills, I’ll finally find the answers that I’m really looking for – a career path that allows me the freedom to pursue my passion without sacrificing my personal life…and a recipe for that elusive tomato coulis.

Next: 03 Into the Fire: My First Day at the CCA
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You can find out more about the California Culinary Academy by visiting their website at www.baychef.com.