Goulash, one simple word and yet so many memories. As far back as I can remember my mom would make this delicious stew, with tender little pieces of pork that my siblings and I would pour over everything from mashed potatoes to buckwheat to pasta. It’s such a simple dish but it would always satisfy me completely.
Finding such comfort in a food intrigued me! I waited for the days mom would make this and request it every time she asked what we wished to eat but after a while if grew tired of bothering my mom to make me goulash. I remember how pleased she was when I asked her to teach me how to make this dish. She led me through it step by step and I made my first pot of goulash. Granted the first time was not perfect but I was proud that I made it all on my own. Not only did I love the idea of being able to make food for myself, I loved feeding others and seeing the satisfaction they received from eating the products of my seemingly endless hours in our tiny kitchen with almost no room to turn around in.
At the young age of twelve years old, after countless hours of learning to make my families’ most loved entrees, melting Winco Foods chocolate in the microwave and pouring it into any molds I could find and baking “cakes” in the EasyBake oven I received from my best friend I decided I would one day go to culinary school. After that decision I served food to homeless people, cooked at youth group camps and helped with every holiday. As each birthday came around I would only ask for cook books and then sit scanning through pages deciding which recipe I would try next. Each recipe had some ingredient I had never heard of and a technique that seemed so bizarre; who ever heard of folding a batter, I fold my t-shirts and sheets, not egg whites and flour! I soon realized I had to expand my knowledge if I ever wished to become a chef. My middle school had culinary classes that I enrolled in and so began my education in the food industry.
Upon entering high school, I took what culinary classes I could and with every day found that this is my passion. My friends were spending their Friday nights at football games and Saturdays going to school dances but I was in the kitchen. Sophomore year the culinary team consumed my life and I hated every minute of it! Todd, our mentor, seemed evil and my hands shook uncontrollably every time he watched me work. After a long and confusing season of precise cuts, that were never precise, and sauces that we could never get to be the right consistency, I saw that I had grown more in a couple of months than I had in the past three years. I ended up being the captain of our team for all three years and strived to learn and grow, as well as win every competition possible to attain more money for college.
Today being in culinary school at times does not seem real. Strange to actually have a dream come true! However, not every day of school has been a dream but I could not imagine being in any other place. I know that I still have a lot to learn but at least now I understand what it means to fold the flour in.