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The Making of a Chef: Mastering Heat at the Culinary Institute
Now in paperback, the eye-opening book that was nominated for a 1998 James Beard Foundation award in the Writing on Food category.
In the winter of 1996, Michael Ruhlman donned hounds-tooth-check pants and a chef's jacket and entered the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, New York, to learn the art of cooking. His vivid and energetic record of that experience, The Making of a Chef, takes us to the heart of this food-knowledge mecca. Here we meet a coterie of talented chefs, an astonishing and driven breed. Ruhlman learns fundamental skills and information about the behavior of food that make cooking anything possible. Ultimately, he propels himself and his readers through a score of kitchens and classrooms, from Asian and American regional cuisines to lunch cookery and even table waiting, in search of the elusive, unnameable elements of great cooking.
In the winter of 1996, Michael Ruhlman donned hounds-tooth-check pants and a chef's jacket and entered the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, New York, to learn the art of cooking. His vivid and energetic record of that experience, The Making of a Chef, takes us to the heart of this food-knowledge mecca. Here we meet a coterie of talented chefs, an astonishing and driven breed. Ruhlman learns fundamental skills and information about the behavior of food that make cooking anything possible. Ultimately, he propels himself and his readers through a score of kitchens and classrooms, from Asian and American regional cuisines to lunch cookery and even table waiting, in search of the elusive, unnameable elements of great cooking.
305 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1997
325 people are currently reading
8,147 people want to read
About the author
Michael Ruhlman
39 books348 followersMichael Ruhlman (born 1963 in Cleveland, Ohio) is an American writer. He is the author of 11 books, and is best known for his work about and in collaboration with American chefs, as well as other works of non-fiction.
Ruhlman grew up in Cleveland and was educated at University School (a private boys' day school in Cleveland) and at Duke University, graduating from the latter in 1985. He worked a series of odd jobs (including briefly at the New York Times) and traveled before returning to his hometown in 1991 to work for a local magazine.
While working at the magazine, Ruhlman wrote an article about his old high school and its new headmaster, which he expanded into his first book, Boys Themselves: A Return to Single-Sex Education (1996).
For his second book, The Making of a Chef (1997), Ruhlman enrolled in the Culinary Institute of America, completing the course, to produce a first-person account -- of the techniques, personalities, and mindsets -- of culinary education at the prestigious chef's school. The success of this book produced two follow-ups, The Soul of a Chef (2000) and The Reach of a Chef (2006).
Ruhlman grew up in Cleveland and was educated at University School (a private boys' day school in Cleveland) and at Duke University, graduating from the latter in 1985. He worked a series of odd jobs (including briefly at the New York Times) and traveled before returning to his hometown in 1991 to work for a local magazine.
While working at the magazine, Ruhlman wrote an article about his old high school and its new headmaster, which he expanded into his first book, Boys Themselves: A Return to Single-Sex Education (1996).
For his second book, The Making of a Chef (1997), Ruhlman enrolled in the Culinary Institute of America, completing the course, to produce a first-person account -- of the techniques, personalities, and mindsets -- of culinary education at the prestigious chef's school. The success of this book produced two follow-ups, The Soul of a Chef (2000) and The Reach of a Chef (2006).
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 396 reviews
July 26, 2015
I'm a food lover, I love talking about it, reading about it, preparing it, and yes, eating it. Chefs? They are some of my rock stars.
I recently picked up Michael Ruhlman's book Ruhlman's Twenty: The Ideas and Techniques that Will Make You a Better Cook from the library and loved how he takes the simplest food items and actually makes you think about them.
In 1996 Ruhlman enters the Culinary Institute of America aka the CIA as a student. They know he is writing a book based on his experiences there but he gets the same criticism's he would face as an average student. I didn't see any of the chef instructors and being too harsh though. They demanded perfection and you understood what they wanted from the beginning.
As a chubby little foodie this book was a mecca of just rolled up wonderfulness. I worked in a few local restaurants in my teenage and early 20's but not to the level of the fine dining experiences that this book lets you get a glimpse of. I think in a different life I would have headed this way. I tend to obsess about food, the why's of why it is used the way it is and how to take simple food and make it taste better than that dish that you pop into the oven out of the freezer.
This book gives Ruhlman's experiences with that. He seems to keep wanting to point out to his fellow classmates that he is a writer, not a cook. But along the time in the school he realizes that he is a damn fine cook.
This book gives insight to the beginning of meals: from stock, to butchering the meats, to chopping vegetables. All that stuff that you never think about when eating away from home.
I loved it because it gave me a glimpse of a career that I covet.
I recently picked up Michael Ruhlman's book Ruhlman's Twenty: The Ideas and Techniques that Will Make You a Better Cook from the library and loved how he takes the simplest food items and actually makes you think about them.
In 1996 Ruhlman enters the Culinary Institute of America aka the CIA as a student. They know he is writing a book based on his experiences there but he gets the same criticism's he would face as an average student. I didn't see any of the chef instructors and being too harsh though. They demanded perfection and you understood what they wanted from the beginning.
As a chubby little foodie this book was a mecca of just rolled up wonderfulness. I worked in a few local restaurants in my teenage and early 20's but not to the level of the fine dining experiences that this book lets you get a glimpse of. I think in a different life I would have headed this way. I tend to obsess about food, the why's of why it is used the way it is and how to take simple food and make it taste better than that dish that you pop into the oven out of the freezer.
This book gives Ruhlman's experiences with that. He seems to keep wanting to point out to his fellow classmates that he is a writer, not a cook. But along the time in the school he realizes that he is a damn fine cook.
This book gives insight to the beginning of meals: from stock, to butchering the meats, to chopping vegetables. All that stuff that you never think about when eating away from home.
I loved it because it gave me a glimpse of a career that I covet.
January 17, 2016
This book stands alone as a brilliant introduction to exactly why the CIA is such a fantastic education for a chef. Nothing is left to intuition or presumed knowledge, everything is taught whether it is culinary maths or exactly how you lay out bones to roast for the perfect stock.
Michael Ruhlman did most of the course both training to be a chef and writing about it as a journalist and so the book is rich with personalities and anecdotes.
Molecular gastronomy is not something that the CIA has much interest in. It is very much based on French gastronomy. But nonetheless you can't help thinking that building up to the fancy smears andspit foams of heston Bluementhal and Ferran Adria from the building blocks of a traditional culinary education is probably better than just going in one time with gels and the powdery crackle of dry ice cream.
More than anything Ruhlman shows what an extremely tough course is this Associates Degree in the Culinary Arts. 21 months of turn-up-even-in-blizzard-conditions or get marked down, chefs alwaysturn up, including proper professional experience not just at the compulsory externship but also in the four restaurants the CIA runs. These restaurants are open to the public who pay for their food, so they aren't about to smile politely at badly-cooked food because it was prepared by a student.
At the end of the course, the students can go on to a Bachelor's degree, specialisations such as Pastry, or ones more science or business-based. All of them extremely expensive.
But once out in the real world, the newly minted chefs can command much higher salaries than chefs who are self-taught or trained at lesser schools. It's not just the kudos of being a CIA graduate, it's also that employers know they have been trained with rigour, that all the bases have been covered, that these new chefs lack nothing except experience.
If you read and enjoy the book as much as I did, you will probably want to read The Soul of a Chef: The Journey Toward Perfection. Also an excellent book. It helps to have read the Making of a Chef first though as Ruhlman has already been through the CIA and is revisiting and so should you be to get the full flavour of the follow-up book.
Michael Ruhlman did most of the course both training to be a chef and writing about it as a journalist and so the book is rich with personalities and anecdotes.
Molecular gastronomy is not something that the CIA has much interest in. It is very much based on French gastronomy. But nonetheless you can't help thinking that building up to the fancy smears and
More than anything Ruhlman shows what an extremely tough course is this Associates Degree in the Culinary Arts. 21 months of turn-up-even-in-blizzard-conditions or get marked down, chefs alwaysturn up, including proper professional experience not just at the compulsory externship but also in the four restaurants the CIA runs. These restaurants are open to the public who pay for their food, so they aren't about to smile politely at badly-cooked food because it was prepared by a student.
At the end of the course, the students can go on to a Bachelor's degree, specialisations such as Pastry, or ones more science or business-based. All of them extremely expensive.
But once out in the real world, the newly minted chefs can command much higher salaries than chefs who are self-taught or trained at lesser schools. It's not just the kudos of being a CIA graduate, it's also that employers know they have been trained with rigour, that all the bases have been covered, that these new chefs lack nothing except experience.
If you read and enjoy the book as much as I did, you will probably want to read The Soul of a Chef: The Journey Toward Perfection. Also an excellent book. It helps to have read the Making of a Chef first though as Ruhlman has already been through the CIA and is revisiting and so should you be to get the full flavour of the follow-up book.
January 8, 2017
The Making of a Chef documents Michael Ruhlman's experiences inside the Culinary Institute of America (CIA). The first half of the book was especially interesting to me -- the approach to the training and content of the classes, the seriousness of the instructors, the techniques and cooking details, the overall intensity of the experience. But it's told from the perspective of a journalist. While Ruhlman had interest and potential as a cook, he didn't approach things with the same focus and absorption as some of his fellow students did. As the story about the blizzard seems to illustrate (Ruhlman drove into the city in a snowstorm to take a practical exam) his performance was driven by basic competitiveness and the need to prove he was not a wimp. He also got caught up in much of the minutiae (blonde vs. brown roue, for example) which fascinated him far more than it did me. I think the other question that preoccupied him was whether or not cooking could be "taught". Although stated multiple times in multiple ways by the CIA instructors, I didn't get the sense that Ruhlman fully grasped the relationship between the basic skills (taught at the CIA), experience, and personal talent. Anyone with sufficient motivation and common sense can be taught to cook well; those that excel are driven to apply their skills in more innovative and creative ways.
July 5, 2011
I am not a "foodie" and I'm a lousy cook, but I love cooking shows, the Food Channel, and interesting books about food and cooking. This is not an interesting book about food and cooking.
Ruhlman is a writer who went to chef school (at the Culinary Institute of America, America's premiere cooking school) to write about it, but one of his teachers told him he wasn't a real chef. This pissed Ruhlman off, so he decided to prove he could become a real chef, and he went through the whole program with as much determination as any of the other students.
This could be an interesting saga, especially written by a professional writer, but instead it reads like the journal of a cooking school student. He tells us about his classes, his teachers, his services, now and then rambles a bit about brown sauce or tells us something about one of his fellow students, and just keeps going like that all the way to the end. There are no interesting facts or surprising revelations about food or cooking school, just a very dry, matter-of-fact account of the industry. Ruhlman's writing is journalistic and without personality.
I suppose if you're thinking about going to cooking school, this is a good book to get a taste of what it's like. But compared to, for example, Trevor Corson's The Story of Sushi or one of Anthony Bourdain's books, this book was just dull.
Ruhlman is a writer who went to chef school (at the Culinary Institute of America, America's premiere cooking school) to write about it, but one of his teachers told him he wasn't a real chef. This pissed Ruhlman off, so he decided to prove he could become a real chef, and he went through the whole program with as much determination as any of the other students.
This could be an interesting saga, especially written by a professional writer, but instead it reads like the journal of a cooking school student. He tells us about his classes, his teachers, his services, now and then rambles a bit about brown sauce or tells us something about one of his fellow students, and just keeps going like that all the way to the end. There are no interesting facts or surprising revelations about food or cooking school, just a very dry, matter-of-fact account of the industry. Ruhlman's writing is journalistic and without personality.
I suppose if you're thinking about going to cooking school, this is a good book to get a taste of what it's like. But compared to, for example, Trevor Corson's The Story of Sushi or one of Anthony Bourdain's books, this book was just dull.
February 17, 2015
I remember how impressed I was by this book when it first came out. Rereading it so many years later, I am still impressed. You are pulled inside the Culinary Institute and also that mentality which separates the chefs from the cooks.
And, most importantly, it is thoroughly enjoyable although conveying tons of cooking information. No wonder I love it.
And, most importantly, it is thoroughly enjoyable although conveying tons of cooking information. No wonder I love it.
April 21, 2010
It's possible that this book has helped change my life... I was already leaning towards trying to become a chef, but this book may have provided the push that I needed.
I have never before been so engaged in a subject, literally hanging on every word. I mean who wouldn't be interested in the best rue to use for making the consummate brown sauce??!?!! All right, I know that most of you wouldn't, but to me, that was fascinating. Told with interesting anecdotes and insightful musings, Ruhlman paints a picture of the CIA, that, by all rights, shouldn't be available uness you have attended the school.
This book did for me what all good books should. It made me want to dive in to the subject. I want to start making my own stocks, I want to (gasp) try baking, something I've never been interested in.
If you are remotely interested in the growing foodie world, this is a must read!
I have never before been so engaged in a subject, literally hanging on every word. I mean who wouldn't be interested in the best rue to use for making the consummate brown sauce??!?!! All right, I know that most of you wouldn't, but to me, that was fascinating. Told with interesting anecdotes and insightful musings, Ruhlman paints a picture of the CIA, that, by all rights, shouldn't be available uness you have attended the school.
This book did for me what all good books should. It made me want to dive in to the subject. I want to start making my own stocks, I want to (gasp) try baking, something I've never been interested in.
If you are remotely interested in the growing foodie world, this is a must read!
April 14, 2021
Wonderful book about the education at the Culinary Institute of America. The author, Michael Ruhlman, enrolls as a student at the CIA and describes his experience while obtaining his associate degree. My favorite part of the novel was Michael's interviews with the instructors.
Read
August 1, 2022Like most or at the very least a lot of people, I learned about Michael Ruhlman owing to his connections to the late Monsieur Bourdain, but I've since used his books as major reference texts in my own cooking adventures. And his story of training in the high-pressure kitchens of the CIA was gripping. Also, as someone who is constantly being told “dude, you should open a restaurant,” it's a reminder that no, no I shouldn't, because I legit don't hav what it takes to work the line, at least not at this point in my life, let alone handle the responsibilities of running one of the most assuredly losing types of business out there. At the same time, it's an absolute love letter to the struggle of cooking professionally, and a hat doffed to those poor bastards made for that line of work.
February 28, 2012
This is a mediocre book about a really great experience. Mr. Ruhlman's writing is inconsistent, and a little hero-worship-y. This said, it is a book about become good at something that he (and the other chefs and students in the book) clearly loves, and the enthusiasm shines through and makes for a compelling read. This said again, this is only a compelling read if you know something about fine dining and food, and are interested in immersing yourself in that world. There's not much to this book for non-foodie readers, and his dwelling on points of roux color and plating would bore many potential readers. As for me, it made me want to go to cooking school, but made me definitely not want to become a chef!
August 30, 2012
The Making of a Chef is an interesting peek inside the Culinary Institute of America, which is the most important culinary school in the United States. Ruhlman is passionate about food, and writes about it well. Had I read this book in the 90's, I would have given it 4 stars.
Many things in the world of food, however, have changed significantly. In the 90's, food wasn't intellectualized beyond the small sphere of bay area hippies who championed farm-to-table operations. That's not just speculation, since Ruhlman himself admits that only one of his fellow CIA students really thought about the food. Now, farmers markets are in cities across the country, and people are becoming increasingly concerned about organic produce, free-range meats, and sustainability. When the book was written, Top Chef (and all the cooking competition knock-offs) didn't exist; last year, I had to wait three months to snag a reservation at Top Chef Stephanie Izard's Girl and the Goat (worth it, by the way). But the biggest change is the food itself. When I ate at Wolfgang Puck's Spago in the early 2000's, I thought smoked salmon pizza was the height of culinary creativity. Thinking back on it, the pizza seems like something I might decide to make only while super high and out of prosciutto.
High-end dining has changed. The French Laundry was bought by Thomas Keller in 1994, but it didn't become the best restaurant in the world until 2003. In the late 90's, oysters and pearls would have been an out of this world, brand new, never-before attempted experience (I'm sure they're still out of this world, at least in Keller's comptent hands). Today, that kind of dish might get you kicked off of Top Chef, since it's been over copied and overdone. If I had lived in Chicago during the mid to late 90's (as a 20-something, mind you. During the late 90's, my 13 year old self was doing a lot of cooking, but most of it consisted of loaded tacos and chicken pot pies), I would have been doing my best to grab a reservation at Charlie Trotter's. Most of my Chicagoan foodie friends only vaguely know who Charlie Trotter is. In a world where you can experience whatever Grant Achatz is cooking up, Trotter seems like a dinosaur (and if he's really the asshole he's purported to be, he probably deserves it). Nowadays, people know who great chefs like Graham Elliot and Rick Bayless are. They'd tweet about it if they saw them at Whole Foods. People really, deeply care about food.
This didn't seem to be true in the 90's. And I'm not saying that because 90's me was more interested in N'sync than cuisine. I'm saying it because things have changed a lot since Top Chef, and the Food Network, and blogging, and Yelp. Hell, even my mom venerates farm-to-table advocates like Alice Waters and Rick Bayless. Ruhlman's book loses something, not by any fault of its own, but because it doesn't anticipate the revolution that was about to take place. When Ruhlman started culinary school, El Bulli hadn't even gotten its third star, so I don't blame him for not being prescient enough to predict the importance of molecular gastronomy. I do wonder what a book about the CIA would be like today though (literary agents, I'm more than willing to write this, if you'll pay for it).
Nowhere is the shift from "California pizza" to "European-inspired locally sourced seasonal sharable small-plates (with organic wines and small-batch craft beer)" more apparent than at the end of the book, where Ruhlman describes his experiences working on restaurant row (in other words, at the restaurants run by the CIA). I get the distinct impression that I wouldn't enjoy eating there. There's some real strange "health" food cooking here, which feels particularly outdated. Apparently, the goal of St. Andrew's Cafe, one of the restaurants at the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, was to serve "healthier" foods. In the fat-phobic 90's, this was done by piling plates full of (fat free) carbohydrates and replacing real foods, like cream, with evaporated skim milk. No, just no. It's hard to believe that students learned to make pasta (and pizza!) as a health food. Luckily, the CIA has abandoned this bizarre practice by turning St. Andrew's into a sustainable farm-to-table concept.
I bet Ruhlman's pleased that my friends and I can spend a Friday evening at The Purple Pig, snacking on house-cured lardo and spreading bone marrow on artisan bread. I'm sure he's even more pleased that we can hold a long, and intellectually thrilling, conversation about our favorite ways to cure ham (I'm seriously obsessed with prosciutto di parma, but my friends swear that jambon is far superior. We'll have to agree to disagree). But the thing Ruhlman would be most happy about is our realization that a quality stock is the most important thing you can learn how to cook (I've given stock out as a birthday gift. No joke). Because that's one thing that hasn't changed: knowing the basics will get you further than an immersion circulator ever can.
Many things in the world of food, however, have changed significantly. In the 90's, food wasn't intellectualized beyond the small sphere of bay area hippies who championed farm-to-table operations. That's not just speculation, since Ruhlman himself admits that only one of his fellow CIA students really thought about the food. Now, farmers markets are in cities across the country, and people are becoming increasingly concerned about organic produce, free-range meats, and sustainability. When the book was written, Top Chef (and all the cooking competition knock-offs) didn't exist; last year, I had to wait three months to snag a reservation at Top Chef Stephanie Izard's Girl and the Goat (worth it, by the way). But the biggest change is the food itself. When I ate at Wolfgang Puck's Spago in the early 2000's, I thought smoked salmon pizza was the height of culinary creativity. Thinking back on it, the pizza seems like something I might decide to make only while super high and out of prosciutto.
High-end dining has changed. The French Laundry was bought by Thomas Keller in 1994, but it didn't become the best restaurant in the world until 2003. In the late 90's, oysters and pearls would have been an out of this world, brand new, never-before attempted experience (I'm sure they're still out of this world, at least in Keller's comptent hands). Today, that kind of dish might get you kicked off of Top Chef, since it's been over copied and overdone. If I had lived in Chicago during the mid to late 90's (as a 20-something, mind you. During the late 90's, my 13 year old self was doing a lot of cooking, but most of it consisted of loaded tacos and chicken pot pies), I would have been doing my best to grab a reservation at Charlie Trotter's. Most of my Chicagoan foodie friends only vaguely know who Charlie Trotter is. In a world where you can experience whatever Grant Achatz is cooking up, Trotter seems like a dinosaur (and if he's really the asshole he's purported to be, he probably deserves it). Nowadays, people know who great chefs like Graham Elliot and Rick Bayless are. They'd tweet about it if they saw them at Whole Foods. People really, deeply care about food.
This didn't seem to be true in the 90's. And I'm not saying that because 90's me was more interested in N'sync than cuisine. I'm saying it because things have changed a lot since Top Chef, and the Food Network, and blogging, and Yelp. Hell, even my mom venerates farm-to-table advocates like Alice Waters and Rick Bayless. Ruhlman's book loses something, not by any fault of its own, but because it doesn't anticipate the revolution that was about to take place. When Ruhlman started culinary school, El Bulli hadn't even gotten its third star, so I don't blame him for not being prescient enough to predict the importance of molecular gastronomy. I do wonder what a book about the CIA would be like today though (literary agents, I'm more than willing to write this, if you'll pay for it).
Nowhere is the shift from "California pizza" to "European-inspired locally sourced seasonal sharable small-plates (with organic wines and small-batch craft beer)" more apparent than at the end of the book, where Ruhlman describes his experiences working on restaurant row (in other words, at the restaurants run by the CIA). I get the distinct impression that I wouldn't enjoy eating there. There's some real strange "health" food cooking here, which feels particularly outdated. Apparently, the goal of St. Andrew's Cafe, one of the restaurants at the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, was to serve "healthier" foods. In the fat-phobic 90's, this was done by piling plates full of (fat free) carbohydrates and replacing real foods, like cream, with evaporated skim milk. No, just no. It's hard to believe that students learned to make pasta (and pizza!) as a health food. Luckily, the CIA has abandoned this bizarre practice by turning St. Andrew's into a sustainable farm-to-table concept.
I bet Ruhlman's pleased that my friends and I can spend a Friday evening at The Purple Pig, snacking on house-cured lardo and spreading bone marrow on artisan bread. I'm sure he's even more pleased that we can hold a long, and intellectually thrilling, conversation about our favorite ways to cure ham (I'm seriously obsessed with prosciutto di parma, but my friends swear that jambon is far superior. We'll have to agree to disagree). But the thing Ruhlman would be most happy about is our realization that a quality stock is the most important thing you can learn how to cook (I've given stock out as a birthday gift. No joke). Because that's one thing that hasn't changed: knowing the basics will get you further than an immersion circulator ever can.
October 24, 2024
這本書講述作者以記者的身分進入美國廚藝學校就讀，學習成為一名廚師的過程，從基礎技能課程學習如何備料、如何製作基本醬料等，到進階課程實際進行烹飪、學習不同國家的料理、烘焙課程等等，整個過程彷彿在看一段精采的美食實境節目，儘管透過文字難以真實感受每種食材的激盪，但卻已能更進一步體會廚師工作的精神。
這本書描寫的是一種職人精神，而包含2個概念：
第一，廚師是一種生活態度。這間學校教的廚師不是只是要學會料理而已，而是要能應付滿滿人潮的餐廳工作，負擔大量食材處理、高速的餐點出菜、並兼顧每道菜都非常美味的那種廚師，作者也有寫到當他在廚房學習一陣子後，他連生活上都變得更加有效率，他會思考怎麼做可以更快、面對問題他隨時都能夠在混亂中掌握問題發生的原因及時危機處理等等，從這個角度來說，廚師的工作並不特別，而能夠跟任何職業相呼應，這部分我也非常有共鳴。
第二，這裡說的廚師，是追求精益求精的廚師。廚藝學校的老師常常會說，「當然，客人可能不會發現，但你真的要成為願意把這種東西端出去的廚師嗎」，從這裡就可以看出他們的自律。我覺得也可以把相同的問題拿來問自己，「這樣做當然沒有人會多說什麼，但我只想成為只能交出這種成品的人嗎」，或許可以說壓力很大，但這就是一種令人敬佩的職人精神，仍有參考的空間。
書中有不少段落令我印象深刻：
首先是書的前段就提到關於清湯的製作，作者描寫廚師對於清湯澄清的追求，以及清湯平凡卻百搭的功能，讓我覺得實在太神奇了；
其次是關於暴風雪的描寫，講述作者因為風雪太大請假沒有到校，而老師是用「沒關係，你是一名記者」的態度回應他，等他到校後發現所有人都在，沒有人因為風雪缺席，而校方對此事的態度是認為，現實世界就是這樣，當然人們都可以找到很多藉口不去上班，但現實就是餐廳還是會開，缺席的人就是不會得到當天應得的報酬。書的最後毫不意外有老師跟作者說「你已經不只是記者，而是廚師了」的認可橋段，但看到作者經歷重重考驗，不禁還是為他感到驕傲。看到作者反省自己身為記者，對於報導內容投入的程度究竟應該有多深，這部分也滿有趣的；
我也很喜歡作者寫到製作午餐、烘焙課程、亞洲料理、冷食廚房的部分，從作者筆下可以清楚看出各種不同類型的料理都有各自的個性，像是午餐相較於晚餐，剛開始會因為較不正式而不受重視，但如何掌握效率，並且照顧到更多顧客都是一門學問；烘焙廚房呈現與一般廚房完全不同的節奏，一切都以酵母為主，完全急不來，並且對於各種環境變化必須有更敏銳的覺察能力；亞洲廚房則是一切都超乎想像的快；冷食廚房則是追求如何在剩料中掌握調味、吸引人的色彩效果。能夠這樣面面俱到地看到不同料理的特色，真的非常有趣，也因為更貼近我的生活，共鳴度更高；
也很喜歡這本書對於服務的描寫，作者在學習的過程中，廚房的老師從來不是活在象牙塔中，他們會段提醒你成本、行銷對於一間餐廳的重要性，食物好吃已經不是當代評斷餐廳的唯一重要標準，其中最明確的課程就是所有學生必須到實習的餐廳內擔任服務生，因為服務才是第一線與客人接觸的崗位。教餐廳服務的老師就像是深刻的人類觀察家，讓餐廳服務提升到專業的境界，舉例來說，當客人帶著年幼的孩童進餐廳時，如果餐廳能優先照顧幼童的需求（像是先給一點點飲料、小麵包），父母完全可以容忍食物上菜的速度較慢等等其他問題，因為父母的心早已被熨得服服貼貼。
這本書比較可惜的部分在於，我根本不知道「褐醬」或「油糊」是什麼味道，甚至也不知道他們長什麼樣子，但這本書卻從一開始就點出個廚師對於褐醬有價值觀的意見分歧（像食物戰爭這樣），並以此描寫不同廚師的個性，貫穿全書。這部分我真的是超級沒共鳴。身為天天吃亞洲料理的人，只看文字就想知道書裡寫到的食物有多好吃、有多令人驚艷，終究缺乏了想像力的基礎，這部分真的是備感侷限。
我覺得這本書耐下心慢慢看會很好看，推薦給所有對料理有興趣的人！
這本書描寫的是一種職人精神，而包含2個概念：
第一，廚師是一種生活態度。這間學校教的廚師不是只是要學會料理而已，而是要能應付滿滿人潮的餐廳工作，負擔大量食材處理、高速的餐點出菜、並兼顧每道菜都非常美味的那種廚師，作者也有寫到當他在廚房學習一陣子後，他連生活上都變得更加有效率，他會思考怎麼做可以更快、面對問題他隨時都能夠在混亂中掌握問題發生的原因及時危機處理等等，從這個角度來說，廚師的工作並不特別，而能夠跟任何職業相呼應，這部分我也非常有共鳴。
第二，這裡說的廚師，是追求精益求精的廚師。廚藝學校的老師常常會說，「當然，客人可能不會發現，但你真的要成為願意把這種東西端出去的廚師嗎」，從這裡就可以看出他們的自律。我覺得也可以把相同的問題拿來問自己，「這樣做當然沒有人會多說什麼，但我只想成為只能交出這種成品的人嗎」，或許可以說壓力很大，但這就是一種令人敬佩的職人精神，仍有參考的空間。
書中有不少段落令我印象深刻：
首先是書的前段就提到關於清湯的製作，作者描寫廚師對於清湯澄清的追求，以及清湯平凡卻百搭的功能，讓我覺得實在太神奇了；
其次是關於暴風雪的描寫，講述作者因為風雪太大請假沒有到校，而老師是用「沒關係，你是一名記者」的態度回應他，等他到校後發現所有人都在，沒有人因為風雪缺席，而校方對此事的態度是認為，現實世界就是這樣，當然人們都可以找到很多藉口不去上班，但現實就是餐廳還是會開，缺席的人就是不會得到當天應得的報酬。書的最後毫不意外有老師跟作者說「你已經不只是記者，而是廚師了」的認可橋段，但看到作者經歷重重考驗，不禁還是為他感到驕傲。看到作者反省自己身為記者，對於報導內容投入的程度究竟應該有多深，這部分也滿有趣的；
我也很喜歡作者寫到製作午餐、烘焙課程、亞洲料理、冷食廚房的部分，從作者筆下可以清楚看出各種不同類型的料理都有各自的個性，像是午餐相較於晚餐，剛開始會因為較不正式而不受重視，但如何掌握效率，並且照顧到更多顧客都是一門學問；烘焙廚房呈現與一般廚房完全不同的節奏，一切都以酵母為主，完全急不來，並且對於各種環境變化必須有更敏銳的覺察能力；亞洲廚房則是一切都超乎想像的快；冷食廚房則是追求如何在剩料中掌握調味、吸引人的色彩效果。能夠這樣面面俱到地看到不同料理的特色，真的非常有趣，也因為更貼近我的生活，共鳴度更高；
也很喜歡這本書對於服務的描寫，作者在學習的過程中，廚房的老師從來不是活在象牙塔中，他們會段提醒你成本、行銷對於一間餐廳的重要性，食物好吃已經不是當代評斷餐廳的唯一重要標準，其中最明確的課程就是所有學生必須到實習的餐廳內擔任服務生，因為服務才是第一線與客人接觸的崗位。教餐廳服務的老師就像是深刻的人類觀察家，讓餐廳服務提升到專業的境界，舉例來說，當客人帶著年幼的孩童進餐廳時，如果餐廳能優先照顧幼童的需求（像是先給一點點飲料、小麵包），父母完全可以容忍食物上菜的速度較慢等等其他問題，因為父母的心早已被熨得服服貼貼。
這本書比較可惜的部分在於，我根本不知道「褐醬」或「油糊」是什麼味道，甚至也不知道他們長什麼樣子，但這本書卻從一開始就點出個廚師對於褐醬有價值觀的意見分歧（像食物戰爭這樣），並以此描寫不同廚師的個性，貫穿全書。這部分我真的是超級沒共鳴。身為天天吃亞洲料理的人，只看文字就想知道書裡寫到的食物有多好吃、有多令人驚艷，終究缺乏了想像力的基礎，這部分真的是備感侷限。
我覺得這本書耐下心慢慢看會很好看，推薦給所有對料理有興趣的人！
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Currently reading
February 28, 2011I got on to this book after getting hooked on the Bravo TV show "Top Chef". Seeing these chefs work with such short time frames and surprise ingredients and still produce dishes that looked amazing and (presumably - it is TV after all) tasted amazing inspired me to see what I could find at the library that taught more than just recipes: a book that carried some insight into the art of cooking. Hearing that a number of the chefs on the show had studied at the Culinary Institute of America, I looked up related books and this one came near the top. I'm not quite halfway through but it is a wonderful read so far. Michael Ruhlman is a writer who went to the school to write about how great chefs are made - he enrolled in the classes with, he makes it clear at the beginning, humble aspirations as far as the training goes. This changes after he is challenged by his first teacher that Ruhlman probably doesn't have the makings of a great chef. From that point on he sets out to give the training his all, no longer just an author on a writing assignment, but as a genuine student. Ruhlman gives me exactly what I hoped I'd get out of the book: descriptions of the training from a student's perspective, so we the readers can get a well-written glimpse into what taking the chef's training program at the CIA is like, and in doing so hopefully gain some perspective into the art of cooking ourselves.
September 13, 2012
Michael Ruhlman's account of studying at the CIA (Culinary Institute of America) reminds me of all those crazy George Plimpton books in the Sixties, but Ruhlman is more than just a mere dabbler in the art of cookery.
The Making Of A Chef is a very amusing book in places, i.e. his fellow students explaining why they're in school, "I'm not good at anything else", "I thought it would keep me out of trouble", sounding like a bunch of enlisted men in the Army and realizing it wasn't as easy as they thought.
What I enjoyed most was the various instructors' impressions on cooking, some approaching like master chemists - "cooking is chemistry that tastes good", other instructors laying a very Zen take on the art of cooking, paring ingredients down to a basic three ingredients - "that's all you need, everything else is just noise". John Cage, your dinner is ready.
The Making Of A Chef is a very amusing book in places, i.e. his fellow students explaining why they're in school, "I'm not good at anything else", "I thought it would keep me out of trouble", sounding like a bunch of enlisted men in the Army and realizing it wasn't as easy as they thought.
What I enjoyed most was the various instructors' impressions on cooking, some approaching like master chemists - "cooking is chemistry that tastes good", other instructors laying a very Zen take on the art of cooking, paring ingredients down to a basic three ingredients - "that's all you need, everything else is just noise". John Cage, your dinner is ready.
February 10, 2009
Umm, it was an interesting book, I thought I'd like it a lot more since I'm obsessed with cooking, and it is good and inspiring and reminds me that I'm quite happy cooking but NOT going to culinary school ever. Still, I think Ruhlman's Walk on Water was ten times better.
Also, I'm not particularly impressed with the audio version. It's been entertaining while I'm cleaning my apartment or knitting and such, but the reader's voice is kind of irritating and not really very emotional, or at least doesn't express the correct emotions at the time. Also, they have a lot of errors where they were clearly splicing recordings and it repeats. So if you aren't in to audiobooks, don't start with this one.
Also, I'm not particularly impressed with the audio version. It's been entertaining while I'm cleaning my apartment or knitting and such, but the reader's voice is kind of irritating and not really very emotional, or at least doesn't express the correct emotions at the time. Also, they have a lot of errors where they were clearly splicing recordings and it repeats. So if you aren't in to audiobooks, don't start with this one.
April 24, 2015
This book is primarily about the Culinary Institute of America (aka CIA), the way it trains chefs (or did, at the time when this book was written), its history and personality sketches of some of the key players (instructors, the president, other students). But there is also a slew of information about cooking itself (how to make a roux, different kinds of sauces, etc.), how to work the front of the house (i.e., wait staff), the meaning of food, and most of all, what it takes to make a chef. I thought it was fascinating even though a lot of it went over my head because I am decidedly not a cook. It did, however, inspire me to be more adventuresome in my cooking and to take more time to make the preparing and partaking of food into quality experiences.
November 18, 2009
I decided to read this after reading Ruhlman's latest, "Ratios." It's a compelling read about working through the culinary program at CIA, but it also delves into ruminations about quality that reminded me of "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance." The passion with which these chefs teach is inspiring, not only for cooking but may be applied to whatever you are passionate about. Not only was this a good book exploring American cooking, the CIA experience and cooking in general, but it inspires me to apply these principles of perfection and passion into my own life and work.
September 3, 2014
This book was required reading for my Culinary Skills class but I really enjoyed it all the way around. A very well written peak into the lives of culinary students and what they go through. It's a fun and entertaining read while still be informative. Enjoyed it so much I've off to read the second book.
November 30, 2020
I would recommend this book to my cooking friends and family. It provides a detailed coverage of a student chef, through the program offer by the CIA. Having taken a few courses at the CIA, Michael’s descriptions are spot on. Also, his thoughts on the emotional growth of the students on this journey are insightful. I would have given this book a higher rating, however the writing is a bit clunky, and there are several editorial errors. You have to really like the work that goes into good food to fully enjoy this book.
September 20, 2018
A very interesting look at how chefs are taught at the CIA-- at least, how they were taught in the late 90's.
September 24, 2022
Fantastic book. I will definitely reread this whenever I want to feel as if I've stepped back into the kitchen.
January 26, 2023
Fascinating but could use some updates.
I played this at 1.3x. Any slower would have bored me. There’s lots of information I can use in my cooking and writing but would probably consult the paperback further for details I couldn’t catch in the audio.
I played this at 1.3x. Any slower would have bored me. There’s lots of information I can use in my cooking and writing but would probably consult the paperback further for details I couldn’t catch in the audio.
June 1, 2024
Answered a lot of questions I didn’t ask
March 15, 2022
Listened to it on audiobook. I thought it was really interesting, although it was almost too detailed at times. Would not recommend listening to books about food while running.
July 27, 2023
Meanders a bit too much as it goes on for my taste (past a certain point the roux question just felt boring and uninteresting but Ruhlman seems to love it) but boy, was this a lot of fun. I don't know if I could cut a full CIA education, but if I could just audit that Skills class it seems like it'd be a blast.
November 7, 2011
You know that old saying about how some people live to eat while others eat to live?
I think foodies think that living to eat automatically makes them somehow knowledgeable about food — you know, just because they like to stuff their gobs and eat a lot of both good and bad things.
I refuse to call myself a foodie because what I respect is different from a simple appreciation of good food — it’s the process that goes into growing food and getting it to the table.
When you read Michael Ruhlman’s “The Making of a Chef,” you can tell he’s the same way.
Having read “Heat” by Bill Buford, I really wanted to check out “The Making of a Chef” as well — in a way, it was a great way to see two different avenues for wannabe-chefs to learn the trade.
With “Heat” you saw what it was like learning on the line while, with “The Making of a Chef” you tagged along with Ruhlman as he toiled through the Culinary Institute of America.
And trust me, it was fascinating…or, maybe, I found it fascinating because I think good chefs embody everything that I value: It’s about paying attention to details.
In the winter of 1996, journalist Ruhlman joined the students at the Culinary Institute of America, the country’s oldest and most influential cooking school — which isn’t exactly easy.
“The curriculum is logical in conception and relentless in practice. Life here is marched out in three-week intervals and there is no stopping.” (p.16)
At the CIA, Ruhlman learns from several talented instructors. Chef Michael Pardus, who teaches Skills, hammers in the notion that you have to demand excellence in yourself.
What’s fascinating is when Ruhlman describes meeting Chef Uwe Hestnar, a team leader who presided over a team of twenty chef-instructors running the formative kitchens.
It’s cool reading about Ruhlman’s chat with Hestnar because this was where his book Ratio sprung from.
I know for sure that I’d never be able to hack it in culinary school. (Ruhlman even remarks in the intro that he’s had a few readers thank him for writing this book because it convinced them not to go to culinary school.)
Just take a look at some of the homework questions and what they were like:
Convert twelve quarts and twelve tablespoons into a single unit of quarts.
How many cups are there in four pounds of honey?
You’re catering a function of 350 people; you estimate that each person will eat three quarters of a cup of potato chips; how many pounds of chips should you order?
I thought this book was totally fascinating and I know I’ll definitely be picking up the other books in this series.
I think foodies think that living to eat automatically makes them somehow knowledgeable about food — you know, just because they like to stuff their gobs and eat a lot of both good and bad things.
I refuse to call myself a foodie because what I respect is different from a simple appreciation of good food — it’s the process that goes into growing food and getting it to the table.
When you read Michael Ruhlman’s “The Making of a Chef,” you can tell he’s the same way.
Having read “Heat” by Bill Buford, I really wanted to check out “The Making of a Chef” as well — in a way, it was a great way to see two different avenues for wannabe-chefs to learn the trade.
With “Heat” you saw what it was like learning on the line while, with “The Making of a Chef” you tagged along with Ruhlman as he toiled through the Culinary Institute of America.
And trust me, it was fascinating…or, maybe, I found it fascinating because I think good chefs embody everything that I value: It’s about paying attention to details.
In the winter of 1996, journalist Ruhlman joined the students at the Culinary Institute of America, the country’s oldest and most influential cooking school — which isn’t exactly easy.
“The curriculum is logical in conception and relentless in practice. Life here is marched out in three-week intervals and there is no stopping.” (p.16)
At the CIA, Ruhlman learns from several talented instructors. Chef Michael Pardus, who teaches Skills, hammers in the notion that you have to demand excellence in yourself.
What’s fascinating is when Ruhlman describes meeting Chef Uwe Hestnar, a team leader who presided over a team of twenty chef-instructors running the formative kitchens.
It’s cool reading about Ruhlman’s chat with Hestnar because this was where his book Ratio sprung from.
I know for sure that I’d never be able to hack it in culinary school. (Ruhlman even remarks in the intro that he’s had a few readers thank him for writing this book because it convinced them not to go to culinary school.)
Just take a look at some of the homework questions and what they were like:
Convert twelve quarts and twelve tablespoons into a single unit of quarts.
How many cups are there in four pounds of honey?
You’re catering a function of 350 people; you estimate that each person will eat three quarters of a cup of potato chips; how many pounds of chips should you order?
I thought this book was totally fascinating and I know I’ll definitely be picking up the other books in this series.
January 27, 2018
The distinguishing factor between a cook and a chef is the possession of a culinary degree. Michael Ruhlman had always considered himself a “cook”. While working towards his literature degree at Duke University, the author enjoyed trying new recipes and cooking for his friends, but never considered cooking as a profession. After graduating and realized his passion for food was only growing, he decided to enroll in the prestigious Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, New York. Documenting his experiences in The Making of a Chef, Ruhlman realized the amount of passion, time, and energy it takes in order to earn the title of “chef”. This memoir highlights the challenges of culinary school, shares different careers attainable with a culinary degree, and defines what traits are necessary to become a chef. Thus, this is a worthwhile read for anyone considering a career in the food industry.
Many regard the restaurant industry as stressful, grueling, but often rewarding. Michael provides the reader with a glimpse of the challenges he faced in culinary school, offering that these situations better prepared him for a cooking career. When a blizzard hit the school, Ruhlman called his chef instructor to tell him he was putting his safety in jeopardy by coming to class. Although the chef deemed this was an okay decision, Michael ultimately decided to venture through the snow. The instructor shared that if he did not make this decision, Ruhlman would have failed his class, sharing that, “’when chefs have to be somewhere, they get there. Chefs are the people who are working on Thanksgiving and Christmas, when everyone else is partying”’ (Ruhlman 68). Potential chefs have to be aware that there are no breaks or sick days in the profession. By sharing the facts and advice that chef instructors share with him in the memoir, Ruhlman effectively extends this knowledge to the reader. Further, Michael explains the frequent tests of morality that face you in culinary school. “I’d served numerous people chips that I knew very well were burnt, that I myself would never leave on the plate had they been served to me. I decided to do this. Why had I given something visibly inedible? Wasn’t this a question of morality? It was wrong, I knew it, but I did it anyway” (Ruhlman 142). The cooking industry is a very physical world; the food is either there in time for service or its not. Because of the pressure, sometimes culinary students would risk putting a less-than-perfect product on the plate versus no product on the plate. By later sharing the consequences of these actions, Ruhlman warns the potential chef to always use your best judgment in the kitchen.
Upon reading the title of the memoir, The Making of a Chef, one may believe the book shares the journey of Ruhlman working his way up in restaurants, as many believe the title of “chef” implies. However, he counters the belief that chefs only work in restaurants by sharing the professions his former classmates at the school are in. “Adam Shepard is the chef-owner of two restaurants called Lunetta, one in Manhattan and one in Brooklyn. Jill Davie has a show on the Fine Living Network and was a contestant on Iron Chef” (Ruhlman 6). This gives the reader an idea of what other culinary students pursue besides Ruhlman. Throughout the book, he is offering different perspectives on experiences during his time at the school. While he enjoyed the intense and fact paced nature of the school, he shared that other students felt burnt out and discouraged, “Dave said he was tired, had stayed up late the night before writing a paper on the cuisine of the American Norrthwest. ‘Food, food, food,’ he said, ‘that’s all you ever think about.’ He looked dizzy” (Ruhlman 131)
Through Ruhlman ’s anecdotes scattered throughout The Making a Chef, the reader learns the traits necessary to become a successful chef. After his blizzard incident, Michael shared a conversation with his instructor in which he gave him the key to achievement in the kitchen; presence. “’This is a physical world. The food is either finished at six o'clock, or it's not. You're either in the kitchen or you're not. Much of what was learned here here was why food behaved as it did. But sometimes there was no room for why. Sometimes why didn't matter. It wasn't simply that excuses were not accepted here-excuses had no meaning at all. The physical facts in any given moment-that was all.’" (Ruhlman 68). In addition, after serving a chef burnt chips and having to make new ones to deliver to the chef, Michael learned that a chef must own up to their mistakes. Any reader who is interested in entering the culinary industry learns through the author that these traits must be attained before entering the kitchen.
Stylistically, the memoir is very easy to read with short syntax and widely understood diction choices. Perhaps this is reflective of Michael’s newly learned communication methods during his time at The Culinary Institute of America. Michael frequently noted how chefs speak in short and simple words, often out of a need for efficiency and speed.
While Ruhlmann offers many pieces of advice to future chefs in the memoir, one question still plagues the reader after closing the book: should I attend culinary school? Ruhlmann provides no clear answer to this question. While the memoir centers around his experiences while attending one of the nation’s top cooking schools, he does not say if he recommends others to do the same. He begins the book by stating, “I’ve gotten a lot of e-mails over the years from people who have read this book. Many thank me for saving them from going to culinary school. A lot more say that this book is the reason they enrolled in culinary school. The most frequent question I get is this; ‘Is it worth it?’ Only you can make that call” (Ruhlman xvi) but offers no further information in the memoir about the advantages and disadvantages of either path. It is up to the reader to analyze the content of Ruhlman’s memoir and determine if attending secondary school for cooking is a good decision for themselves.
The Making of a Chef provides a glance of the experiences that attending culinary school entails. The author, Michael Ruhlman, effectively describes the challenges of earning a culinary education and highlights the traits required to succeed in the industry. Further, Ruhlman enhances his memoir by providing the perspectives of his classmates on their culinary journey. Whether one is serious about becoming a chef or simply enjoys trying new recipes, this memoir is a worthwhile read to get an insiders look into one of the nation’s fastest growing industries.
Many regard the restaurant industry as stressful, grueling, but often rewarding. Michael provides the reader with a glimpse of the challenges he faced in culinary school, offering that these situations better prepared him for a cooking career. When a blizzard hit the school, Ruhlman called his chef instructor to tell him he was putting his safety in jeopardy by coming to class. Although the chef deemed this was an okay decision, Michael ultimately decided to venture through the snow. The instructor shared that if he did not make this decision, Ruhlman would have failed his class, sharing that, “’when chefs have to be somewhere, they get there. Chefs are the people who are working on Thanksgiving and Christmas, when everyone else is partying”’ (Ruhlman 68). Potential chefs have to be aware that there are no breaks or sick days in the profession. By sharing the facts and advice that chef instructors share with him in the memoir, Ruhlman effectively extends this knowledge to the reader. Further, Michael explains the frequent tests of morality that face you in culinary school. “I’d served numerous people chips that I knew very well were burnt, that I myself would never leave on the plate had they been served to me. I decided to do this. Why had I given something visibly inedible? Wasn’t this a question of morality? It was wrong, I knew it, but I did it anyway” (Ruhlman 142). The cooking industry is a very physical world; the food is either there in time for service or its not. Because of the pressure, sometimes culinary students would risk putting a less-than-perfect product on the plate versus no product on the plate. By later sharing the consequences of these actions, Ruhlman warns the potential chef to always use your best judgment in the kitchen.
Upon reading the title of the memoir, The Making of a Chef, one may believe the book shares the journey of Ruhlman working his way up in restaurants, as many believe the title of “chef” implies. However, he counters the belief that chefs only work in restaurants by sharing the professions his former classmates at the school are in. “Adam Shepard is the chef-owner of two restaurants called Lunetta, one in Manhattan and one in Brooklyn. Jill Davie has a show on the Fine Living Network and was a contestant on Iron Chef” (Ruhlman 6). This gives the reader an idea of what other culinary students pursue besides Ruhlman. Throughout the book, he is offering different perspectives on experiences during his time at the school. While he enjoyed the intense and fact paced nature of the school, he shared that other students felt burnt out and discouraged, “Dave said he was tired, had stayed up late the night before writing a paper on the cuisine of the American Norrthwest. ‘Food, food, food,’ he said, ‘that’s all you ever think about.’ He looked dizzy” (Ruhlman 131)
Through Ruhlman ’s anecdotes scattered throughout The Making a Chef, the reader learns the traits necessary to become a successful chef. After his blizzard incident, Michael shared a conversation with his instructor in which he gave him the key to achievement in the kitchen; presence. “’This is a physical world. The food is either finished at six o'clock, or it's not. You're either in the kitchen or you're not. Much of what was learned here here was why food behaved as it did. But sometimes there was no room for why. Sometimes why didn't matter. It wasn't simply that excuses were not accepted here-excuses had no meaning at all. The physical facts in any given moment-that was all.’" (Ruhlman 68). In addition, after serving a chef burnt chips and having to make new ones to deliver to the chef, Michael learned that a chef must own up to their mistakes. Any reader who is interested in entering the culinary industry learns through the author that these traits must be attained before entering the kitchen.
Stylistically, the memoir is very easy to read with short syntax and widely understood diction choices. Perhaps this is reflective of Michael’s newly learned communication methods during his time at The Culinary Institute of America. Michael frequently noted how chefs speak in short and simple words, often out of a need for efficiency and speed.
While Ruhlmann offers many pieces of advice to future chefs in the memoir, one question still plagues the reader after closing the book: should I attend culinary school? Ruhlmann provides no clear answer to this question. While the memoir centers around his experiences while attending one of the nation’s top cooking schools, he does not say if he recommends others to do the same. He begins the book by stating, “I’ve gotten a lot of e-mails over the years from people who have read this book. Many thank me for saving them from going to culinary school. A lot more say that this book is the reason they enrolled in culinary school. The most frequent question I get is this; ‘Is it worth it?’ Only you can make that call” (Ruhlman xvi) but offers no further information in the memoir about the advantages and disadvantages of either path. It is up to the reader to analyze the content of Ruhlman’s memoir and determine if attending secondary school for cooking is a good decision for themselves.
The Making of a Chef provides a glance of the experiences that attending culinary school entails. The author, Michael Ruhlman, effectively describes the challenges of earning a culinary education and highlights the traits required to succeed in the industry. Further, Ruhlman enhances his memoir by providing the perspectives of his classmates on their culinary journey. Whether one is serious about becoming a chef or simply enjoys trying new recipes, this memoir is a worthwhile read to get an insiders look into one of the nation’s fastest growing industries.
September 3, 2014
I am still wavering between a three and four star, I may upgrade it if the book stays with me. This is a non-fiction account of journalist Michael Ruhlman's experience in the Culinary Institute of America. I found the first half of the book extremely interesting as it got into the science of cooking, and the chemical reactions that different ingredients and cooking methods had on food. The author's journey into feeling like a real cook, rather than just writing about cooking is also very interesting. However I did find the book began to get quite repetitive into the latter half, and the "great debate" over using pale vs. brown roux when making brown sauce gets tedious in short order. It did spark a interest in getting back to basics in the kitchen though.
July 27, 2013
Interesting though not riveting tale of a writer who goes to school at the CIA. I liked learning how Ruhlman made the transition in his head from "writer" to "cook" and I enjoyed the descriptions of the classes and the outsized personalities of the instructors. The narrator said ri-CO-tah instead of RI-CAH-teh, which bid fair to make me crazy every time. Yes, yes, I know it's a perfectly acceptable alternate pronunciation. But it's wrong to my ear.
September 16, 2013
I really enjoyed reading this book, even though some of the things he wrote about were unknown to me. I enjoy cooking, but not at the level of the Culinary Institute of America, but then again, maybe I should! They strive not for just good, but for perfect! It isn't a cookbook or a "how to" book, it tells Michaels journey through the school. He tells it well!
May 4, 2015
I really liked this one for as long as it took me to get through it. Now I want to go to culinary school. Sigh. If only I were independently wealthy...
The only thing that's not my favorite about Ruhlman's books is that he breaks them up into almost completely unrelated sections. You keep having to recommit each time the section changes. Not bad, just a little unexpected.
The only thing that's not my favorite about Ruhlman's books is that he breaks them up into almost completely unrelated sections. You keep having to recommit each time the section changes. Not bad, just a little unexpected.
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