Now, it's off to Houston.
Like me, the decent knife CCA gave me on day one is scarred, a little beaten up, been tossed in anger and by accident, has ripped through about every vegetable and protein you can imagine, endured late night MUNI rides and hikes through the TL, been stashed away at the bar. It's seen fantastic triumphs, lucky breaks, and utter failures.
On day one it was shiny, inexperienced, fresh out of the plastic. It was uncertain, unseasoned. A year later, almost to the day, it has the look of a veteran, the thousand yard stare left behind after cutting through thousands of pounds of product. I love this knife. I respect this knife. I'll have this knife in my collection forever.
This has been an incredible year. There are plenty of things in my life that have stirred passion in me, but nothing like the near obsessive brand I get out of food. I always liked food, the anthropological and sociological gestalt of it, but I never thought it would take me over the way it has.
I remain a virtually untrained rookie. Though I have some skills and concepts I can rely on, that will always serve me well, and I have a vocabulary that can get me into and out of certain doom, I don't know shit compared to what can be known. From here forward, I'll always be tweaking things, learning, developing. This business and craft of food is a chase that will never end, because there is no finish line.
I'll miss these people I've spent the last year with, many of whom I've come to consider close friends. We'll talk about keeping in touch and, being that it's such a small industry, we just might.
I'll miss many of the chefs I worked with over the last year. Chefs Drew, Damon, John, Almir, Jackson, Susan, Lev, Alfred. These are people that had an enormous impact on me personally and professionally.
I've felt ready for this new career since the summer, though I know that everyday I am in well over my head, in the weeds, and running the razor's edge between success and catastrophe - but that has been my life so far, and I don't expect it to change. I don't want it to change.
I spent $47,000 of future revenue, cut and burned myself countless times, ruined seven clean white jackets, blew two romantic relationships, met 50 or so aspiring and/or working chefs that I'd trust with my life, and a few I wouldn't trust with a teaspoon of salt. I lost half the contents of my knife bag, likely due to careless clean up, but kept the half dozen important tools. I stopped using measuring cups and spoons, meanwhile I started collecting tablespoons from each production kitchen I've worked - the current count is three. I learned and forgot the mother sauces and their secondary sauces, though if pressed I can get them out. Despite the hundreds of dishes I've cooked, the best have been for friends, and among the hundreds of meals I ate, the best were had with friends.
Last night, after the presentations were over, we all headed to Temple Bar and waited for the feeling of graduation to set in. There were lots of hand shakes and hugs and oh my god can you believe it conversations. There was lots of ego stroking and sincere wishes for the best. Almost all of us will go our separate ways, and it's hard to say goodbye to people you have gone to war with. Just a handshake or a hug, a signature and a little note on a jacket, doesn't seem like enough of a goodbye for these people I've grown with over the last year.
The one sentiment that everyone seemed to share was validation. Those of us that lasted the program expressed validation of what we thought we really wanted to do becoming the thing we had to do - to work in a kitchen and to cook.
Like me, the decent knife CCA gave me on day one is scarred, a little beaten up, been tossed in anger and by accident, has ripped through about every vegetable and protein you can imagine, endured late night MUNI rides and hikes through the TL, been stashed away at the bar. It's seen fantastic triumphs, lucky breaks, and utter failures.
On day one it was shiny, inexperienced, fresh out of the plastic. It was uncertain, unseasoned. A year later, almost to the day, it has the look of a veteran, the thousand yard stare left behind after cutting through thousands of pounds of product. I love this knife. I respect this knife. I'll have this knife in my collection forever.
This has been an incredible year. There are plenty of things in my life that have stirred passion in me, but nothing like the near obsessive brand I get out of food. I always liked food, the anthropological and sociological gestalt of it, but I never thought it would take me over the way it has.
I remain a virtually untrained rookie. Though I have some skills and concepts I can rely on, that will always serve me well, and I have a vocabulary that can get me into and out of certain doom, I don't know shit compared to what can be known. From here forward, I'll always be tweaking things, learning, developing. This business and craft of food is a chase that will never end, because there is no finish line.
I'll miss these people I've spent the last year with, many of whom I've come to consider close friends. We'll talk about keeping in touch and, being that it's such a small industry, we just might.
I'll miss many of the chefs I worked with over the last year. Chefs Drew, Damon, John, Almir, Jackson, Susan, Lev, Alfred. These are people that had an enormous impact on me personally and professionally.
I've felt ready for this new career since the summer, though I know that everyday I am in well over my head, in the weeds, and running the razor's edge between success and catastrophe - but that has been my life so far, and I don't expect it to change. I don't want it to change.
I spent $47,000 of future revenue, cut and burned myself countless times, ruined seven clean white jackets, blew two romantic relationships, met 50 or so aspiring and/or working chefs that I'd trust with my life, and a few I wouldn't trust with a teaspoon of salt. I lost half the contents of my knife bag, likely due to careless clean up, but kept the half dozen important tools. I stopped using measuring cups and spoons, meanwhile I started collecting tablespoons from each production kitchen I've worked - the current count is three. I learned and forgot the mother sauces and their secondary sauces, though if pressed I can get them out. Despite the hundreds of dishes I've cooked, the best have been for friends, and among the hundreds of meals I ate, the best were had with friends.
Last night, after the presentations were over, we all headed to Temple Bar and waited for the feeling of graduation to set in. There were lots of hand shakes and hugs and oh my god can you believe it conversations. There was lots of ego stroking and sincere wishes for the best. Almost all of us will go our separate ways, and it's hard to say goodbye to people you have gone to war with. Just a handshake or a hug, a signature and a little note on a jacket, doesn't seem like enough of a goodbye for these people I've grown with over the last year.
The one sentiment that everyone seemed to share was validation. Those of us that lasted the program expressed validation of what we thought we really wanted to do becoming the thing we had to do - to work in a kitchen and to cook.
