Leather Storrs: So You Want to be a Chef . . .

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Leather Storrs, GoLocalPDX Contributor

Photo Credit: johnsember via Compfight cc

The number of sushi-lovin’, gluten-free, kale chippin’ locavores at my kids’ elementary school is testament to a sea change in culinary understanding. The explosion of food personalities to whom we pay homage (and big money), is evidence of a grand shift in the cult of celebrity.

Can you scream and chop athletically while puffing a mop of blonde from your forehead?

Well. we’ve got a job for you!

Cooking is hot, eating is competitive and cooks are rock stars. It’s no wonder that culinary schools are bursting with new students. Kids and career changers and college grads are in on the action. There are three schools in Portland alone eager to capitalize on this demand. A mess of accredited cooks are being extruded daily.

How come they stink?

Ok, maybe that’s broad-brush hyperbole. The answer, actually, is complex, with hints of entitlement and oblivion competing with an impatient nose and a bitter aftertaste of unrealistic expectations. The grapes aren’t great, but the winemaker bears some responsibility, too.

Culinary schools are for-profit institutions that make money by grinding students through their machine without incident. There is no benefit in gumming up the gears by holding kids back who don’t perform. The pressure is on instructors to keep things moving.

Here’s what my deep throat from a local school reported when asked about the current mind-set of culinary students: “Dues are not to be paid, but are owed; School will make me a chef, regardless of my level of participation; I didn’t come here to learn about math or writing.”

Finally, and chillingly, my source confides: “Discipline is not a part of who they are.”

Yep, that’s about right.

Don’t be fooled by the number of television shows committed to cooking. The fact is that very few of us make it to hair and makeup. Very few of us make it to the position of head chef.

Very few of us make it. At all.

Half of culinary school graduates are out of the industry within five years.

Learning to cook, like any craft, requires repetition, the mastering of technique and the discipline to perform, unfazed, within a hot box of controlled mayhem, every day. No chef will pat you on the head for doing what you are supposed to do.

They will, however, gut you for trying to explain why you didn’t do something.

Despite the white coat, this is a blue-collar job. Your culinary degree buys you the privilege of earning minimum wage in a dangerous and often unsavory environment. The hours makes you a vampire, working opposite the schedule of your family and friends. Your weekend is Monday. Your success depends on your ability to bury your ego and work within a team (“the brigade”).

You still want to be a chef? Fine.

Here it is:

Be clean in your station and your person. Be curious and be a sponge. READ. Carry a notebook and steal every recipe and technique you can. Keep your knives and gear in top shape and be at your board when your shift begins.

When it comes to answers, you’ve got two choices: “Yes, Chef" or “No, Chef.” I recommend the former.

Leather Storrs is an Oregon native who has served 20 years in professional kitchens. He owns a piece of two area restaurants: Noble rot and nobleoni at Oregon College of Art and Craft, where he yells and waves arms. He quietly admits to having been a newspaper critic in Austin, Texas and Portland.

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