E-Mail This Article to a Friend Food for thought (continued)

Of course, it’s possible only to an extent, especially since CSCA operates on a thrice-weekly schedule. It’s up to the students to supplement their schooling by practicing at home, accepting starting positions in the industry, and so on. In The Making of a Chef: Mastering Heat at the Culinary Institute of America (Henry Holt, 1997), journalist and CIA student Michael Ruhlman gives a wonderfully vivid account of the exhaustive nature of his own education. From day one, for instance, "everyone would cut two pounds of mirepoix [the vegetable component of a stock], one part each of celery and carrot, two parts onion ... and we would do this every day for the next six weeks." The CSCA schedule crams stock-making into one week. Pedagogically speaking, you could make the analogy that while the CIA is like a multi-course banquet, the CSCA is like a buffet: breadth of learning and practical experience is valued over depth of knowledge. Ruhlman himself, recalling the teaching philosophy of one of his chef-instructors, provides a useful distinction. Outlining his attempt to "balance training and education," the instructor defines his terms as follows: "Training is, I show you how to do something and you do it.... Education is, you figure it out for yourself."

As it happens, most of the graduates I spoke with seemed to appreciate the realistic nature of what you might call the CSCA’s approach, as compared to the idealism of its more meticulous counterpart — in hindsight if not always in the moment. Take Amy Nesta, herself now a cooking instructor. Though as a student, she felt her less "career-minded" classmates "lowered the intensity [of the program] just a bit," in retrospect she reserves her greatest admiration not for the hands-on, nuts-and-bolts training she received but rather for the rounded introductions to provincial European cooking. "You don’t see other schools dedicating real time to this type of information. Plus it satisfied a personal curiosity. I came to a much deeper understanding of [French and Italian] cultures."

Margot Lord, founder and director of RIPE New England, a nonprofit organization that aims to teach urban youth about traditional foodways and sustainable agriculture, confesses, "While I was in the midst of the program, I always felt that somehow there should be more to it, that it wasn’t ‘professional’ enough. But what did I expect ‘professional’ to mean?" Musing further, she concludes that although her doubts led her to rule out a restaurant career for herself, "I’m sure people who are suited for that type of work can be successful if they have the vision and the drive."

WELL, WHAT of such people? How do they fare in and out of the program? Alumnus Josh Ziskin, for one, largely concurs with Nesta and Lord regarding the rigors of the program, if not with their expectations of it. The chef-owner of Brookline’s La Morra recalls that "it isn’t strict, by any means, but you get out of it what you put into it. You can put in as much or as little effort as you want. So I was very proactive, picking the brains of the teachers, learning from other students." From his perspective, then, a wide foundation, rather than a towering elaboration, is precisely what a culinary program should provide, since chefs are by nature do-it-yourselfers: "CSCA gives you the basics for doing everything. You may not ever prepare a Bechamel or make pasta [again], but you’ve got that background when you need it. If the pastry chef’s sick, I can look at the recipes and know how things should be done; I know what to look for when making bread."

Besides, ultimately, there may simply be no classroom substitute for working in the field, the conditions being just too volatile to replicate. As Ziskin — who has worked with a slew of local chefs, from Paul O’Connell to Ana Sortun to Marisa Iocco — puts it, "working with established chefs is like graduate school"; indeed, at the now-defunct La Bettola, "Rene Michelena sort of broke me down and built me back up; it was like doing post-graduate work."

CSCA alum Tony Bettencourt, executive chef of the new Tomasso Trattoria & Enoteca in Southborough, points out that one’s entire professional life is a learning experience — and, for that matter, a teaching opportunity. It’s not so easy — or necessary — to separate the academic simulation from the back-of-the-house actuality, the mentor from the boss or colleague. Retaining not only "the strong sense of history you get with each cooking class" but also information regarding "the science of what you’re doing" — from autolysis to fermentation — has, he says, "really proven helpful in my career," giving him credibility. "I know the side story, and I love giving that to the staff. As a chef, you’re obligated to teach, and I have that much more to offer — not just how to make something, but also why we would or wouldn’t make this particular dish in this particular Italian restaurant."

Calling Dowling "a huge force" in his own life because she "took a personal interest in where I should work after school," Bettencourt describes his first job, at Cambridge’s Metro, and his subsequent position as sous-chef at the Soirée Room at UpStairs on the Square, in much the same terms. At both establishments, chef Amanda Lydon acted as a mentor who encouraged him to read and research as much as to scale a fish or strain a coulis. "And now," he says, "I try to do the same thing with my staff. I don’t want them just punching a clock and making my food. I want to send them out into the world the way Roberta and Amanda did with me, as representatives of Tomasso and what can be learned there. You always feel like, ‘Oh, I went to this little cooking school on Mass Ave in Cambridge’ and wonder whether it’s all it’s cracked up to be. Then you meet someone who went to school in Manhattan and they don’t know something you know, and you think, ‘Okay.’ "

If, in the end, you still insist on glitz, keep in mind that famed New York chef Mario Batali recently filmed a segment for the Food Network at CSCA. But remember, even he once had to learn how to skim a sauce.

Ruth Tobias can be reached at ruthtobias@earthlink.net