Prologue

After week one of culinary school at Le Cordon Bleu I've found myself dreaming about the industrial sized kitchen, and more excited than I have ever been to get back into the classroom. Mostly because this is unlike any classroom I've ever seen. There's nothing like actually working with your hands to create something magical from a bit of flour, water, sugar, salt, and, of course, butter.

I've always cooked, and I mean that almost literally. I don't remember a time when I learned, and I can't remember a time when I wasn't in a kitchen. I remember kneading bread dough when I was about seven or eight years old, and at age 11 I was making dinner for my family. I don't remember having the "don't turn the stove on when no one is home" rule, though I'm sure it existed. Hearing all of this makes you think we grew up in a rural location, but no, it was just important to my southern born-and-raised mother to make sure both her children could cook, since "one day mom won't be there to cook for you, and you'll have to eat!"

Because of this, I've always been considered by friends to be "a good cook." But it took one particular meal on my honeymoon to realize that food was much more than sustenance. Escargot wrapped in puff pastry, lightly grilled veal, and a chocolate dessert to make you want to die right there on the spot; along with a bottle of wine and three hours of laughing with my new husband and the staff of the Supper Club aboard the Carnival Glory - that's where my journey in food started.

Fast forward two years later, and I'm at the same job, living and breathing in a cubical, and I realize I just can't stand the person I have become at a job I now hate. I'm drowning in a sea of paper and inadequacy. But as I start to prepare my resume I can't face doing the same thing somewhere else. I go home and throw something together for dinner and realize that THIS is what I love. If I could figure out a way to do THIS, I'm happy.

So I have taken out student loans again, and, tying on an apron three days a week, am learning a trade (and feeling a bit guilty that my parents paid for me to go to four years at an expensive private university six years ago). It's certainly going to be a trip.