Huh?
That's the New England Culinary Institute, tucked away in the wilds of the far northeast. It's been tapped as the top culinary school in the country and they've pumped out all sorts of names in the industry. I took a tour of the facilities last summer and was impressed with the program.
Now, you're saying, "But you are almost done with your culinary degree, right?" Yes, dear readers, I am just about done with my Associate's degree in culinary arts. And I want to cook. I really want to cook. I want to work a busy hotline, turning over the best dishes I can, quickly. But not forever. Eventually, I want to be the boss. Not just the executive chef, but the BOSS.
Regardless of the pursuit, I tend to end up in decision making roles. It's in my blood. Rarely do I ask for the reigns, but I always seem to get them. Now, I could work a hotline for 20 years, be a sous, likely an exec, and make a decent living - hopefully.
Let's look at the numbers. My education is costing me roughly $32 an hour. As a line cook I can expect to make between $12 and $17 an hour. Not a great ratio. As a sous, I might pull in $14 to $20 an hour. Still in the red there for about two years.
With a Hospitality and Restaurant Management Bachelor's Degree from NECI, I can expect to make upwards of $70k a year as a general manager. And the sky's the limit from there.
So, you see, I can cook for a while, get my fill, pay off my 15 year school loans, and move into management. Put a tie back on when necessary and spend great sums of other people's money on making a restaurant into something.
With all those factors neatly portioned out, I applied. NECI has conditionally accepted me, the condition being that I complete my CCA program. So, barring tragedy, I'll be packing my bags for a year long, on-campus stay in Essex, VT. Snow. Extreme cold. A city likely to be mistaken for a village. Surrounded by rocks and trees. Roughing it.
If you thought, based on the blog, that I can be cocky when talking about my food, you ain't seen nothin' yet. Put me in a marketing or operations meeting, I'm a handful.
I wish I had done this shit 10 years ago or so. Nonetheless, I'm getting it done. The end goal is in sight, and it's clear. I want to cook for a few years, then I want to run the place, front to back. And I don't want to grind out assistant jobs for 10 years on the way. I've done that shit. I've been the wingman.
Anyway, life in Careme drags along. Again, service was a boring affair with orders trickling in. Each day we rage through the kitchen, setting up, prepping, flailing wildly at stoves and cutting boards, getting the meez together - only to stand stone still for the bulk of service. Two trained people could run our line. Come Friday, we'll see some action, but the early week is all about finishing competencies, gossiping and praying for an order on your station. One highlight: the tuna app I posted a picture of earlier was the group's special, artfully prepared by Josh. Even though I wasn't really in on the preparation much, I was constantly over Josh's shoulder during the set up. Thanks to Josh's understanding, easy nature, I didn't get punched out.
Tonight we have reservations for 55. 55. That's slow. Figure another half that in walk ins and you've got a handful of orders, which means another sleepy night on the line. The better part of my night will likely be prepping for the Thursday buffet. My group drew South American, so most of our dishes will be a snap. Lots of spicy braised meats and homemade queso fresco.
This week, we've got the fine fine dining station - foie gras, sweetbreads, rabbit, duck. Serious French food - which is exactly where I want to be. For all of my blathering on about South American cuisine, spicy foods, exciting and colorful dishes, I've found that where my heart belongs to France. Specifically rustic and bistro style. I know my way around Asian, American and Italian fare pretty well, insofar as flavor profiles and ingredient combinations, but whenever I am coming up with menus in my head (which is almost all the time), I end up in France. People always ask me what genre is my specialty. I can now say "French, naturally."
That's the New England Culinary Institute, tucked away in the wilds of the far northeast. It's been tapped as the top culinary school in the country and they've pumped out all sorts of names in the industry. I took a tour of the facilities last summer and was impressed with the program.
Now, you're saying, "But you are almost done with your culinary degree, right?" Yes, dear readers, I am just about done with my Associate's degree in culinary arts. And I want to cook. I really want to cook. I want to work a busy hotline, turning over the best dishes I can, quickly. But not forever. Eventually, I want to be the boss. Not just the executive chef, but the BOSS.
Regardless of the pursuit, I tend to end up in decision making roles. It's in my blood. Rarely do I ask for the reigns, but I always seem to get them. Now, I could work a hotline for 20 years, be a sous, likely an exec, and make a decent living - hopefully.
Let's look at the numbers. My education is costing me roughly $32 an hour. As a line cook I can expect to make between $12 and $17 an hour. Not a great ratio. As a sous, I might pull in $14 to $20 an hour. Still in the red there for about two years.
With a Hospitality and Restaurant Management Bachelor's Degree from NECI, I can expect to make upwards of $70k a year as a general manager. And the sky's the limit from there.
So, you see, I can cook for a while, get my fill, pay off my 15 year school loans, and move into management. Put a tie back on when necessary and spend great sums of other people's money on making a restaurant into something.
With all those factors neatly portioned out, I applied. NECI has conditionally accepted me, the condition being that I complete my CCA program. So, barring tragedy, I'll be packing my bags for a year long, on-campus stay in Essex, VT. Snow. Extreme cold. A city likely to be mistaken for a village. Surrounded by rocks and trees. Roughing it.
If you thought, based on the blog, that I can be cocky when talking about my food, you ain't seen nothin' yet. Put me in a marketing or operations meeting, I'm a handful.
I wish I had done this shit 10 years ago or so. Nonetheless, I'm getting it done. The end goal is in sight, and it's clear. I want to cook for a few years, then I want to run the place, front to back. And I don't want to grind out assistant jobs for 10 years on the way. I've done that shit. I've been the wingman.
Anyway, life in Careme drags along. Again, service was a boring affair with orders trickling in. Each day we rage through the kitchen, setting up, prepping, flailing wildly at stoves and cutting boards, getting the meez together - only to stand stone still for the bulk of service. Two trained people could run our line. Come Friday, we'll see some action, but the early week is all about finishing competencies, gossiping and praying for an order on your station. One highlight: the tuna app I posted a picture of earlier was the group's special, artfully prepared by Josh. Even though I wasn't really in on the preparation much, I was constantly over Josh's shoulder during the set up. Thanks to Josh's understanding, easy nature, I didn't get punched out.
Tonight we have reservations for 55. 55. That's slow. Figure another half that in walk ins and you've got a handful of orders, which means another sleepy night on the line. The better part of my night will likely be prepping for the Thursday buffet. My group drew South American, so most of our dishes will be a snap. Lots of spicy braised meats and homemade queso fresco.
This week, we've got the fine fine dining station - foie gras, sweetbreads, rabbit, duck. Serious French food - which is exactly where I want to be. For all of my blathering on about South American cuisine, spicy foods, exciting and colorful dishes, I've found that where my heart belongs to France. Specifically rustic and bistro style. I know my way around Asian, American and Italian fare pretty well, insofar as flavor profiles and ingredient combinations, but whenever I am coming up with menus in my head (which is almost all the time), I end up in France. People always ask me what genre is my specialty. I can now say "French, naturally."
