To Learn, Do
Some people learn by reading. Other people learn by hearing. Some people learn by observing. Other people learn by doing.
Book-learning was never my forte. I struggled in high school and dropped out in college. When it came time for me to seriously consider what I was going to do with my life, my mother and father sent me to hands on cooking school chicago il.
I suppose it all started with my love of preparing meals for my parents. When I was three years old, I started making them breakfast-in-bed. How many Saturday mornings did I spill milk all over my dad, and splatter my mom with fragments of my favorite cereal?
They not only tolerated my culinary behavior. They celebrated it. They encouraged it. Soon, I graduated from breakfast-in-bed to packing my dad’s lunch, as well as my own. By junior high, my mother had given me creative control over a couple of evening meals a week, for the whole family.
In high school, girls didn’t date me because of my handsome looks, or because of the cool cars I drove. The girls who said yes to me when I asked them out did so because word had gotten around that I was a primo chef, a kitchen wizard.
When it came to “the rest of my life,” then, there was never any question: I was destined for a life in the kitchen. The best way for me to learn was to carry on learning as I always had: by doing.
I went to school. I raddled pots and pans. I kneaded bread. I poached eggs. I roasted turkeys. I created. I created delicious masterpieces.
I baked. I cooked. I learned. I found my talent. I discovered my art. In the kitchen, I am king.