There is no doubt that I have had a wonderful love affair with food for as long as I can remember. I, of course, love to eat…just ask my Aunt Kris, she can attest for many fine dining meals with more appetizers, main courses, and desserts that either of us could ever finish in a week, yet alone at one meal. We are known for ordering too much simply because we can not make up our minds…the love of eating!
It has, however, in the past 10 years became more apparent to me that my love affair with food is more than just eating it, it is about preparing it. As a small child I would dream of wearing a white coat to work. For many years I thought this meant that I was destined to become a doctor helping the sick and aiding the elderly. Once I realized that my attention was hard to keep in biology, chemistry, and microbiology classes I understood that I needed to find another white coat to wear.
One sunny afternoon on the Boston Common during a wine and food event clarity came rushing through my bones. I saw men and women cooking and serving some of the most innovative, delicious, seasonally correct foods. For a small fee I roamed around the event picking up small signature dishes from various chefs. Each dish quickly expanded my palate and my understanding of who a chef is. It was, however, the common theme between all the chefs that afternoon that led to my clarity. They were all wearing white coats. You see, up until this moment I viewed the white chef coat as just a piece of uniform worn in the kitchen to prevent stains from attacking their own clothes. The white coats that were worn on the Boston Common were far more than a stain protector; they were coats of establishment…coats of pride…coats of a profession that I so yearned to be a part of. These coats were embroidered with the chef’s names; some had markings of awards or certifications, while others had logos of well known restaurants. The coats were shielded with buttons that so classily ran up their chests. Particular, yet functional, items were placed just so in the clever pocket on the chefs’ arms that resembled weapons of a solider. Oh yes, I had come to respect not just the chefs for their ability to work outdoors on the Boston Common, but more so to respect what the white chef coat stood for.
Such is my quest to one day (properly) wear a white chef coat with my name, accreditation, and point of purpose eloquently embroidered on the breast.
It has, however, in the past 10 years became more apparent to me that my love affair with food is more than just eating it, it is about preparing it. As a small child I would dream of wearing a white coat to work. For many years I thought this meant that I was destined to become a doctor helping the sick and aiding the elderly. Once I realized that my attention was hard to keep in biology, chemistry, and microbiology classes I understood that I needed to find another white coat to wear.
One sunny afternoon on the Boston Common during a wine and food event clarity came rushing through my bones. I saw men and women cooking and serving some of the most innovative, delicious, seasonally correct foods. For a small fee I roamed around the event picking up small signature dishes from various chefs. Each dish quickly expanded my palate and my understanding of who a chef is. It was, however, the common theme between all the chefs that afternoon that led to my clarity. They were all wearing white coats. You see, up until this moment I viewed the white chef coat as just a piece of uniform worn in the kitchen to prevent stains from attacking their own clothes. The white coats that were worn on the Boston Common were far more than a stain protector; they were coats of establishment…coats of pride…coats of a profession that I so yearned to be a part of. These coats were embroidered with the chef’s names; some had markings of awards or certifications, while others had logos of well known restaurants. The coats were shielded with buttons that so classily ran up their chests. Particular, yet functional, items were placed just so in the clever pocket on the chefs’ arms that resembled weapons of a solider. Oh yes, I had come to respect not just the chefs for their ability to work outdoors on the Boston Common, but more so to respect what the white chef coat stood for.
Such is my quest to one day (properly) wear a white chef coat with my name, accreditation, and point of purpose eloquently embroidered on the breast.
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