I recall telling my father that I wanted to be a Culinary Artist. I remember loving the time spent in the kitchen as a child. There were so many things that you were never allowed to use or touch, but when you were cooking with someone, suddenly the hot stove that would burn you or the very sharp knife that would cut you transformed into your tools. They were required to complete whatever your finished product was going to be. Ideally, it was going to be edible. Some times it was not.
I recall my father not taking my career path proclamation very well. I guess I don’t really blame him. The idea of being a chef is not necessarily a glamorous one. But it’s not as if I said I was planning on going to Subway University and dreamed of being a sandwich artist. Not that there is anything wrong with that. You want to slide bread down a bar while throwing soggy veggies onto the bread – more power to you. You better believe I will still be in the store too, asking for just a little more Italian dressing on my sandwich.
The nice thing about cooking is you do not have to study it to do it. Sure, there are more advanced techniques you could learn or refine. And as someone who is now spending a majority of their time cooking, something that someone has wanted to do for ages, all I can say is – “Look at me now, Dad! I am paid to sit around and make brownies all day. Who is unfocused now!”
I recall thinking that being a culinary artist would be a great way to spend your life. Allow me to clarify that statement. I recall thinking that in more of an Anthony Bourdain type of career than Andrew Zimmern career. Don’t get me wrong, I would love a show on the travel channel. I just would not be excited if that show centered on me eating bugs and rotting “delicacies”.
I never had the ability to draw or paint, but was always envious of those who could. The closest to art I am ever going to create is a chocolate chip cookie with 50mg of THC in it. It does make for a beautiful picture though.