Croissant in the City

So far, this blog has been mostly about food or where I’ve
been hanging out. That is not a bad thing at all, but I realized today as I sat
down to write some notes for a book I’m working on, that I haven’t given any
details about how I got to this point in my life. You know if you read the blog
and my late night tweets that I work in pastry at a restaurant in Phoenix,
Arizona. But, I didn’t start out in the kitchen…professionally, that is.

I have always cooked and baked, but I aspired, in college,
to be a journalist or a press secretary, eventually working my way up to the
White House. (Perhaps I watched a little too much West Wing.)

After interning and working in Washington, DC, I felt run
down, lost and lacking creatively. I spent the next year and a half of hiding
out, helping my brother build his business, and it seemed like a good time to
take a leap into something that I would love. Find a career that would meet all
the things on my checklist. I landed in culinary school

Coming from the corporate world into the culinary lifestyle is a
shock to the body and the mind. The hours are just as long, but for a lot less
pay. Also, your body hurts like nothing you’ve ever felt.

The first week I worked in a kitchen, I thought I was going
to die, my body hurt so badly. 10 hours straight on your feet, in constant
movement, is a whole new world of pain. I slept like the dead that week. I
cried a lot (in my hotel room, never in the kitchen) and mostly in the version of “what
the hell was I thinking?!” But I got through it and here I am.

I’ve had a few people ask me recently if they should take
this jump too. They are clouded by soft and hazy dreams of prancing around a
kitchen whipping up new creations while everyone praises their culinary savvy,
and Food Network bangs down their door offering television shows and their own
line of magenta spatulas. Bullshit! It’s painful, hot and repetitive work. You
make little money. The customer and servers make your life difficult and did I
mention that you make no money. You have to be a little crazy and a lot in love
with food, to stand there every night and take that kind of abuse. Call me a
lovesick masochist!

I encourage jumps and leaps of faith, especially when you
want to start doing something you truly love. But my advice? At least take a
peak over the side before you leap.

Song of the Day: "Spotlight" by Mute Math