SALT, SWEAT & STEAM

A chef’s sentimental education—or, a seasoning in hell.

Washington, a Trinidadian who found herself in the strange climes of North Carolina, fell into a restaurant job after enduring “a soul-slaughtering office job at a construction journal in Raleigh.” The chef, recognizing that “there’s clearly something there,” encouraged her to go to culinary school, and more than that, the flagship Culinary Institute of America. She applied, was admitted, and headed to the Hudson Valley for a two-year-long boot camp that would daunt a Navy SEAL. Initially thrilled at rediscovering in herself “a brave little island girl who loved to cook,” she recounts that she felt out of place, even as she carved a unique path—for instance, she was the only first-year student ever to win the post of editor-in-chief of the student publication, “a rote, almost mechanical cook by day and a creative, free-thinking writer/editor at night.” Time passes, and with it comes the disconcerting discovery that the CIA was run like a boot camp—“we really weren’t so different from West Point, our across-the river US Military Academy neighbor.” Moreover, writes Washington, the expectation of chefs that student performance must be flawless every time out was unrealistic: “The CIA is a vocational school that prepares its students for excellence—­and food snobbery—­but in a lot of the non-­starred, cantankerous, corner-­cutting kitchens of the real world, excellence isn’t the norm, nor is it expected.” Add to that the harsh truth that there aren’t many top-tier jobs, and it’s little wonder that Washington, after living through one episode after another of the abuse “that impoverishes the profession,” long ago chose to write about food instead of becoming a working chef.

A pensive narrative full of fear and loathing, but also lots of tips for foodies who enjoy cooking as well as eating.