what would you say if i told you i was thinking about going to culinary school?
there is a pause. to her credit, it's a brief one. i would say that's the most logical choice i've heard so far.
it's a test of immense patience when someone states they'd like to completely change tracks. to take you with them on the road. i had been working in customer service and account management for a startup company in the financial district of new york city. i had moved to nyc five months prior on a whirlwind decision to live with the girl i loved. somehow, in the space of less than a year, everything in my life has been torn up and inverted. start anew. start fresh.
I moved to New York in February. Valentine’s Day, to be exact – carrying only a torn black backpack stuffed with wrinkled t-shirts and a copy of Haruki Murakami’s 1Q84. When I boarded that plane I only intended to stay for the weekend, to soak up skyscrapers and street food, spend time with my long-distance girlfriend before heading home to Michigan.
Instead, I stayed. I stayed here, sometimes wondering if my flesh was growing into the fabric of this couch during the endless search for a job. Everyone wants something, anything, and I’m not at all good at selling myself. Instead, I shove my hands into my pockets and shrug a little. Noncommittal. What do you want to do with your life? I have no answers - save one that comes bubbling to the back of my throat. i want to go to culinary school. i want to come home covered in flour. i want -
i start as a culinary arts major at the institute of culinary education this october. throughout the next year, i will be writing about the experiences and food throughout the way. a big part of me is terrified. i signed over the tuition check and stood, one hand on the doorknob to my apartment, wondering what i had just done.
the bigger, truer part of me is excited. bring on the knives and the fire.
recipe located at smitten kitchen