I’m Over 40 and Going to Culinary School, Pt. 1
I am over 40, cannot chop a bell pepper, but I signed up for Culinary School. Why? This is probably a mistake, but here I go.
The alarm goes off, but I do not hear it as I wear ear plugs to drown out my snoring, sleep apnea’s siren song that brings immeasurable joy to my wife. It finally wakes me up when the volume reaches tornado warning levels. I fumble for it, drop it on my face and scorch my retina as my eyes adjust to the bright light.
6:15am.
This is a joke. I have not been up this early in years, and even then not unless I am catching a flight. My remote day job is with a West coast team and I do not have to be online until 11am EST as I am three hours ahead. Typically I wake without an alarm, make coffee, catch up on my reading, finally login at 11, and even then I am the first person online.
But 6:15? This is too much. I work West coast hours specifically so I never have to stumble out of bed half-dead.
I am already asking myself on day one, “Am I too old for this?” Then it smacks me across the face that the question is about more than the early alarm, but my advancing age. Should a man closer to 45 than to 40 be sacrificing prime working hours (days, months, YEARS??) to pursue cooking classes?
What the heck am I doing? Throw away over $20,000 in annual income plus the costs of tuition, books, and materials (I own knives now. Watch out) so I can do what? Make chicken stock?
Why am I doing this and is it worth it? I have two primary objectives. The first and most important is to help shoulder the burden of everyday cooking in our home. My wife Ashley does everything in the kitchen. I cannot chop a bell pepper, let alone prepare a meal. She did not order me, or even subtly suggest that I learn to cook to help out, but I would have to be blind not to realize how hard she was working to feed us. My guilt at being a deadbeat husband was interrupting any enjoyment derived from my recent PlayStation 5 purchase.
I tried to assuage my guilt by learning to make cocktails, and I got really good at this. I make my own syrups, squeeze fresh juices, and my Martinis provide Ashley with the necessary fuel to cook an entire meal without me lifting a finger.
Second, I make YouTube videos about food and travel. They include videos like the one below in which I profiled FOKO, my favorite Louisville Mexican restaurant. Coincidentally, co-owner and Chef Paco Garcia is a graduate of the same Culinary Arts program I am about to begin.
I suffer from severe imposter syndrome when making videos like this one. YouTube is full of folks attempting to fake it until they make it, but usually it’s just fake. I want to be taken seriously by understanding my subject on a deeper level and these classes are a step in the right direction.
(My video on Louisville-based Mexican restaurant ‘FOKO’ featuring Paco Garcia.)
“Am I wasting my time?” I ask my wife Ashley as she walks back into our bedroom. “Is this a mistake? What am I really going to accomplish?”
She does not hesitate, “You’re doing what everyone our age wishes they could do: to break free from the 9–5, to pursue something that is uniquely theirs. To gain a skill or pursue a hobby that isn’t for the sake of profit, but for joy. You are not the one making the mistake, it’s everyone else that’s making excuses not to do the same.”
Ashley is always good for a pep talk, for lowering my temperature while lifting my spirits. I get teary-eyed when she gives me these speeches, not for their message, but for what they really mean. I have a partner that loves and supports me, no matter what.
“Maybe you’re onto something there. Thank you.”
The commute to Jefferson Community & Technical College is relatively quick, as Louisville traffic is light compared to other cities I have lived in over the past twenty years (Austin, Seattle, Taipei, and Seoul). ‘Basic Food Production’ is an 8am class, so there are plenty of spots in the student parking lot as most students wisely take classes later in the day.
My teacher is Chef Jim Gerhardt, a veteran of the industry and a two-time James Beard award nominee. We meet in a basement classroom where I am one of nine future chefs, and surprisingly only the second oldest student in class.
Chef Jim spends almost too much time discussing health code regulations. I tape my eyelids open, hoping to appear conscious and attentive. He changes gears to outline the next few classes and I perk up immediately.
First, we are required to wear our chef uniforms going forward. Will I look as smashing in real life as in my dreams? Probably.
Second, he informs us that we will be practicing various dishes while honing our knife skills. Yes! I can see it now, in one short week I shall become Chef Matt, the cheffiest (that’s a word) man of all.
Chef Jim dismisses the class and I can’t help feeling energized and pondering, “Maybe I will become a chef, not just a home cook, but at a restaurant.”
The mental wheels turn as my actual wheels take me home.
UNTIL NEXT TIME…
Stay tuned for more! Thanks for stopping by and please consider subscribing, read my other Culinary School posts, and check me out on YouTube.