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Beaten, Seared, and Sauced: On Becoming a Chef at the Culinary Institute of America
Millions of people fantasize about leaving their old lives behind, enrolling in cooking school, and training to become a chef. But for those who make the decision, the difference between the dream and reality can be gigantic—especially at the top cooking school in the country. For the first time in the Culinary Institute of America’s history, a book will give readers the firsthand experience of being a full-time student facing all of the challenges of the legendary course in its entirety.
On the eve of his thirty-eighth birthday and after shuffling through a series of unsatisfying jobs, Jonathan Dixon enrolled in the CIA (on a scholarship) to pursue his passion for cooking. In Beaten, Seared, and Sauced he tells hilarious and harrowing stories of life at the CIA as he and his classmates navigate the institution’s many rules and customs under the watchful and critical eyes of their instructors. Each part of the curriculum is covered, from knife skills and stock making to the high-pressure cooking tests and the daunting wine course (the undoing of many a student). Dixon also details his externship in the kitchen of Danny Meyer’s Tabla, giving readers a look into the inner workings of a celebrated New York City restaurant.
With the benefit of his age to give perspective to his experience, Dixon delivers a gripping day-to-day chronicle of his transformation from amateur to professional. From the daily tongue-lashings in class to learning the ropes—fast—at a top NYC kitchen, Beaten, Seared, and Sauced is a fascinating and intimate first-person view of one of America’s most famous culinary institutions and one of the world’s most coveted jobs.
On the eve of his thirty-eighth birthday and after shuffling through a series of unsatisfying jobs, Jonathan Dixon enrolled in the CIA (on a scholarship) to pursue his passion for cooking. In Beaten, Seared, and Sauced he tells hilarious and harrowing stories of life at the CIA as he and his classmates navigate the institution’s many rules and customs under the watchful and critical eyes of their instructors. Each part of the curriculum is covered, from knife skills and stock making to the high-pressure cooking tests and the daunting wine course (the undoing of many a student). Dixon also details his externship in the kitchen of Danny Meyer’s Tabla, giving readers a look into the inner workings of a celebrated New York City restaurant.
With the benefit of his age to give perspective to his experience, Dixon delivers a gripping day-to-day chronicle of his transformation from amateur to professional. From the daily tongue-lashings in class to learning the ropes—fast—at a top NYC kitchen, Beaten, Seared, and Sauced is a fascinating and intimate first-person view of one of America’s most famous culinary institutions and one of the world’s most coveted jobs.
272 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2011
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April 5, 2019
”I took another bite, then sawed at the duck, and started getting pissed off.
‘Whoever did this,’ I said, ‘is a jackass.’
‘Yeah,’ Adam said. ‘This is pretty shameful. I can’t eat this.’ He pushed it away.
‘I agree,’ Lombardi said. ‘What would happen if you took it back to the kitchen and told them it sucked? Would they give you another entree or something? Isn’t that actually the responsible thing to do in this case? Shouldn’t they know how bad it is?’
….
‘And---damn---this duck once walked around. It was happy. It enjoyed itself. And look at it now. This creature truly died in vain. A pointless, useless death.’”
Jonathan Dixon, chef or superspy or both?
I’ve read a decent amount of spy novels in my reading lifetime, so every time the author Jonathan Dixon uses the acronym CIA, my mind instantly translates that as the Central Intelligence Agency. With the recent activity of the Bush Administration, the title Beaten, Seared and Sauced might also have been applied as a normal function of the CIA. Now that I’ve finished this book, and I think of the CIA as the Culinary Institute of America, the next American spy novel I read could be a bit tricky.
There are a couple of points in time, typically, when a young man or woman might feel the need to start applying themselves in a more productive direction. It could be when they are knocking on the door of thirty, or if they are particularly stubborn, it might take until they are approaching forty. Usually, these realizations come when they finally give up the last vestiges of their childhood and find that scraping by, while trying to figure out what they are supposed to do with the rest of their lives, is starting to be embarrassing rather than charming.
Jonathan Dixon is 38 years old when he makes the decision to attend the CIA. He wasn’t confused about the acronym. He really did want to learn to cook, not learn how to infiltrate terrorist organizations in the Middle East. When you are his age and doing an apprenticeship at a restaurant that normally is filled by twenty somethings…,”It’s more physically difficult to stand in one place, immobile, than to keep moving. My back bitched at me, and the bones of my feet murmured obscenities. But the orders started coming steadily at 8:00, first in small bursts announced by the ticket printer in staccato coughs, then in a quick steady stream.”
No rest for the wickedly OLD.
I would think that the first qualification for a student at CIA would be that they love food, but Dixon runs into students who don’t seem to like food at all. One eighteen year old guy will only eat hamburgers for every meal.
”’Do you want to try some of this?’ I pushed a plate at him that had foie gras mousse piped into profiteroles. It had been up for grabs on the buffet table when you walked in the cafeteria door. I was ecstatic when I figured out what it was….
‘No, man. That’s cool. I won’t like it.’
‘Really? How often are you gonna get this? Try it.’ I suddenly felt like my mother.
‘No. I just want the burger. I can’t wait until they teach us to cook these things.’”
Raising my kids, who are certainly not food explorers, and having to deal with their friends having even more reduced palates than my own kids, I’ve reached a point in my life where I refuse to dine with people under 30 unless they can answer a few questions first.
Will you eat…
Mushrooms
Onions
Pasta
Brussel sprouts ( Okay, I only use that one if they have already annoyed me.) If they haven’t annoyed me, I’ll ask if they eat green vegetables.
Life is too short to dine with people who truly are incapable of enjoying food.
So if the only food you personally desire is a hamburger, why would you want to be a chef? Simply baffling!
Jonathan Dixon frequently consults his Zuni Cafe Cookbook, which brings back some fond memories for me. When I lived in San Francisco and worked for Green Apple Books, my boss had a standing reservation at the Zuni Cafe. I was fortunate to be invited to dine there several times. This was the only time in my life where I’ve walked by this long line of people outside a restaurant waiting to eat and been whisked immediately to our table with vodka martinis miraculously appearing simultaneously with our arrival.
I like the fact that the teachers at the CIA are so intent on nothing being wasted. This is to help future employers of these students, because waste is lost revenue. Also, this philosophy reflects a respect for nature, whether it is an animal or a plant that gives up its life to become food. The teachers are not created equal, of course, and each one has his own style which is a reflection of his personality. One teacher in particular achieves that allusive combination of being tough and, yet, inspirational.
”’I’ve gotta say, that he is one of the best educators I’ve ever encountered. Hands down. It isn’t that you’re going to remember every single thing he said or be an expert at cutting up fish after seven days. But come on, didn’t you find yourself studying really hard?’
‘Shit, yeah.’
‘Okay, that’s the mark---that guy made you and me want to be like him. Not be him, but be like him---know as much you can, to be really good. We wanted to measure up. That’s being a really good teacher.’”
The best way to learn anything is through repetition, but given the scope of what needs to be covered in the short amount of time with each course, repetition is impossible. For instance, deboning a roast...Dixon butchers his poor roast in the one time he is allowed to try. It is not pretty.
On to the next thing.
An instructor shows him how to perfectly cube his potatoes, which is harder than it sounds. It involves standing at the right angle and holding your knife at the right angle. Dixon can’t go out and buy a bunch of roasts to practice deboning, but he can buy a 50 pound bag of potatoes and practice his cubing...outside of class.
I do have to applaud Jonathan for making the decision to go back to school and start a new career at 38. It is not easy. Money is a looming concern that adds stress to an already stressful school schedule. He makes some extra money freelance writing. At one point he takes a semester off from school to accept a writing project that will keep him afloat for a while longer. He does what he needs to do to keep his dream of graduating alive. I picked up this book remembering fondly reading Anthony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential, and nobody tells cooking stories like Bourdain, but the truthfulness and the accessibility of Dixon’s strife and ultimate triumph are...inspirational.
If you wish to see more of my most recent book and movie reviews, visit http://www.jeffreykeeten.com
I also have a Facebook blogger page at:https://www.facebook.com/JeffreyKeeten
‘Whoever did this,’ I said, ‘is a jackass.’
‘Yeah,’ Adam said. ‘This is pretty shameful. I can’t eat this.’ He pushed it away.
‘I agree,’ Lombardi said. ‘What would happen if you took it back to the kitchen and told them it sucked? Would they give you another entree or something? Isn’t that actually the responsible thing to do in this case? Shouldn’t they know how bad it is?’
….
‘And---damn---this duck once walked around. It was happy. It enjoyed itself. And look at it now. This creature truly died in vain. A pointless, useless death.’”
Jonathan Dixon, chef or superspy or both?
I’ve read a decent amount of spy novels in my reading lifetime, so every time the author Jonathan Dixon uses the acronym CIA, my mind instantly translates that as the Central Intelligence Agency. With the recent activity of the Bush Administration, the title Beaten, Seared and Sauced might also have been applied as a normal function of the CIA. Now that I’ve finished this book, and I think of the CIA as the Culinary Institute of America, the next American spy novel I read could be a bit tricky.
There are a couple of points in time, typically, when a young man or woman might feel the need to start applying themselves in a more productive direction. It could be when they are knocking on the door of thirty, or if they are particularly stubborn, it might take until they are approaching forty. Usually, these realizations come when they finally give up the last vestiges of their childhood and find that scraping by, while trying to figure out what they are supposed to do with the rest of their lives, is starting to be embarrassing rather than charming.
Jonathan Dixon is 38 years old when he makes the decision to attend the CIA. He wasn’t confused about the acronym. He really did want to learn to cook, not learn how to infiltrate terrorist organizations in the Middle East. When you are his age and doing an apprenticeship at a restaurant that normally is filled by twenty somethings…,”It’s more physically difficult to stand in one place, immobile, than to keep moving. My back bitched at me, and the bones of my feet murmured obscenities. But the orders started coming steadily at 8:00, first in small bursts announced by the ticket printer in staccato coughs, then in a quick steady stream.”
No rest for the wickedly OLD.
I would think that the first qualification for a student at CIA would be that they love food, but Dixon runs into students who don’t seem to like food at all. One eighteen year old guy will only eat hamburgers for every meal.
”’Do you want to try some of this?’ I pushed a plate at him that had foie gras mousse piped into profiteroles. It had been up for grabs on the buffet table when you walked in the cafeteria door. I was ecstatic when I figured out what it was….
‘No, man. That’s cool. I won’t like it.’
‘Really? How often are you gonna get this? Try it.’ I suddenly felt like my mother.
‘No. I just want the burger. I can’t wait until they teach us to cook these things.’”
Raising my kids, who are certainly not food explorers, and having to deal with their friends having even more reduced palates than my own kids, I’ve reached a point in my life where I refuse to dine with people under 30 unless they can answer a few questions first.
Will you eat…
Mushrooms
Onions
Pasta
Brussel sprouts ( Okay, I only use that one if they have already annoyed me.) If they haven’t annoyed me, I’ll ask if they eat green vegetables.
Life is too short to dine with people who truly are incapable of enjoying food.
So if the only food you personally desire is a hamburger, why would you want to be a chef? Simply baffling!
Jonathan Dixon frequently consults his Zuni Cafe Cookbook, which brings back some fond memories for me. When I lived in San Francisco and worked for Green Apple Books, my boss had a standing reservation at the Zuni Cafe. I was fortunate to be invited to dine there several times. This was the only time in my life where I’ve walked by this long line of people outside a restaurant waiting to eat and been whisked immediately to our table with vodka martinis miraculously appearing simultaneously with our arrival.
I like the fact that the teachers at the CIA are so intent on nothing being wasted. This is to help future employers of these students, because waste is lost revenue. Also, this philosophy reflects a respect for nature, whether it is an animal or a plant that gives up its life to become food. The teachers are not created equal, of course, and each one has his own style which is a reflection of his personality. One teacher in particular achieves that allusive combination of being tough and, yet, inspirational.
”’I’ve gotta say, that he is one of the best educators I’ve ever encountered. Hands down. It isn’t that you’re going to remember every single thing he said or be an expert at cutting up fish after seven days. But come on, didn’t you find yourself studying really hard?’
‘Shit, yeah.’
‘Okay, that’s the mark---that guy made you and me want to be like him. Not be him, but be like him---know as much you can, to be really good. We wanted to measure up. That’s being a really good teacher.’”
The best way to learn anything is through repetition, but given the scope of what needs to be covered in the short amount of time with each course, repetition is impossible. For instance, deboning a roast...Dixon butchers his poor roast in the one time he is allowed to try. It is not pretty.
On to the next thing.
An instructor shows him how to perfectly cube his potatoes, which is harder than it sounds. It involves standing at the right angle and holding your knife at the right angle. Dixon can’t go out and buy a bunch of roasts to practice deboning, but he can buy a 50 pound bag of potatoes and practice his cubing...outside of class.
I do have to applaud Jonathan for making the decision to go back to school and start a new career at 38. It is not easy. Money is a looming concern that adds stress to an already stressful school schedule. He makes some extra money freelance writing. At one point he takes a semester off from school to accept a writing project that will keep him afloat for a while longer. He does what he needs to do to keep his dream of graduating alive. I picked up this book remembering fondly reading Anthony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential, and nobody tells cooking stories like Bourdain, but the truthfulness and the accessibility of Dixon’s strife and ultimate triumph are...inspirational.
If you wish to see more of my most recent book and movie reviews, visit http://www.jeffreykeeten.com
I also have a Facebook blogger page at:https://www.facebook.com/JeffreyKeeten
June 27, 2016
Finished the book and upgraded it to 10 stars. This really is an outstanding book. The CIA is described so differently than in other books of student chefs. The element of reverence is entirely lacking. He is not impressed that this is the Holy of Holies for the future superstar chefs. Instead, he is a student concerned with learning as much as he can before embarking on a second career - he was a writer in his late thirties when he embarked on cooking as a way of life.
More than any other book I've read on the Culinary Institute, this one concentrates on the lessons, on what is taught and how the personalities of the chef-lecturers affect this education. It is this that sets it apart as being of real interest in how that school works and why it is the top school for would-be chefs in America and aspirational for many other countries in the world.
Realising the pressures of the kitchen weren't for him after his externships, he became a private chef and continues to write. If his food is as good as his writing, then he must be in high demand and doing better than just "making a living". He doesn't write lyrical, reverential prose, but clean, unadorned text with just a scattering adjectives. It's the literary equivalent of WYSIWYG, no fancy descriptions of sunsets to hide behind. Just the sort of writing I most admire.
More than any other book I've read on the Culinary Institute, this one concentrates on the lessons, on what is taught and how the personalities of the chef-lecturers affect this education. It is this that sets it apart as being of real interest in how that school works and why it is the top school for would-be chefs in America and aspirational for many other countries in the world.
Realising the pressures of the kitchen weren't for him after his externships, he became a private chef and continues to write. If his food is as good as his writing, then he must be in high demand and doing better than just "making a living". He doesn't write lyrical, reverential prose, but clean, unadorned text with just a scattering adjectives. It's the literary equivalent of WYSIWYG, no fancy descriptions of sunsets to hide behind. Just the sort of writing I most admire.
July 19, 2011
Ah, yes. Another memoir about an interesting experience that I wish had been written by someone else. I want to go inside the Culinary Institute of America in New York -- but it turns out I don't want to go with Jonathan Dixon. Our author and CIA tour guide is conflicted, (but in a boring way), and a tiny bit sullen, and he keeps thinking I care about what bands he saw or enjoyed in the 1980s. He is wrong about that. I do not care.
In one sense, this book can be summed up by a scene in which Dixon's cohort invites him to go drinking, and the reader (me) says "Yes, go! This will be entertaining! You will learn more about your peers and start having a more interesting time in school." But no, he does not go out with them. He goes home to his girlfriend and bakes a chicken. For a guy in culinary school, he spends an awful lot of tme cooking chicken and green beans at home. And I know, I know, roast chicken is more of an art than it may seem, but even our author's weeknight menu was kind of a drag.
But despite all my criticism, I enjoyed the book enough to inflict it on my husband, who was disappointed not to learn anything from the descriptions of cooking classes and the author's externship. I guess if you already know the theory behind dicing an onion, you're not going to find this tale particularly educational.
In one sense, this book can be summed up by a scene in which Dixon's cohort invites him to go drinking, and the reader (me) says "Yes, go! This will be entertaining! You will learn more about your peers and start having a more interesting time in school." But no, he does not go out with them. He goes home to his girlfriend and bakes a chicken. For a guy in culinary school, he spends an awful lot of tme cooking chicken and green beans at home. And I know, I know, roast chicken is more of an art than it may seem, but even our author's weeknight menu was kind of a drag.
But despite all my criticism, I enjoyed the book enough to inflict it on my husband, who was disappointed not to learn anything from the descriptions of cooking classes and the author's externship. I guess if you already know the theory behind dicing an onion, you're not going to find this tale particularly educational.
June 14, 2011
Whether Tom Brown's Schooldays or the Harry Potter series, I'm a sucker for books in which a neophyte goes to school for the first time, endures its rigors and harsh realities, and emerges a better person after learning some hard-earned truths about himself and the limits of endurance. Ultimately the success of the story depends on the hero's transformation by graduation. While Jonathan Dixon's memoir of his education at the Culinary Institute of America follows the skeleton of the old schoolboy tale archetype, his overall character fails to improve, much less impress.
It's difficult to have such a sad sack as the focal point of a memoir. Dixon is a self-admitted slacker who wasted away his twenties and gambled his and his girlfriend's well-beings and limited resources in order to achieve a career change in his late thirties. (Throughout the book, he's morbidly sensitive about his age, to the point that his readers are embarrassed for his continual apologies for having lived longer than Methuselah. Dude, you're in your thirties. Not your seventies. Even if you were? Get the hell over it.) He's mopey, he's glum, he's continually worried and—let's be frank—obviously not the best student. And at book's end, sad to say, any confidence or mastery he may have achieved as a result of matriculating are squandered when he faces the future with the same aimless apathy as he's spent the rest of his allegedly advanced years.
It's a pity, because a great deal of his experiences at the CIA are interesting to outsiders: the rigid curriculum, the tyrannical and eccentric instructors, the obstacles to be overcome and the rigorous hoops to be jumped. The CIA has such a methodical and well-thought-out course structure, however, that it seems pretty obvious that any of the insights of which Dixon writes aren't his, but the school's—the exact realizations the institute wants its students to make at exact points in their training. Nor does it help that many of Dixon's class descriptions sound as if he's summarized his saved syllabi. The other students in the memoir are not much more than cyphers or personality tics who vanish quickly, like anything expendable. The instructors are a bit more fleshed out, but for most Dixon has precious little affection, and imparts a sense that he's settling some personal scores and grinding a few paring knives (if not axes) by giving himself the last word.
The book cured me of any vague wonderings I may have had of wishing for an alternative life path that might have involved the CIA, certainly. I'm just fortunate that, unlike Dixon, I never applied on whim and attended solely for the purpose of being able to host and cook for slightly snobbier dinner parties.
It's difficult to have such a sad sack as the focal point of a memoir. Dixon is a self-admitted slacker who wasted away his twenties and gambled his and his girlfriend's well-beings and limited resources in order to achieve a career change in his late thirties. (Throughout the book, he's morbidly sensitive about his age, to the point that his readers are embarrassed for his continual apologies for having lived longer than Methuselah. Dude, you're in your thirties. Not your seventies. Even if you were? Get the hell over it.) He's mopey, he's glum, he's continually worried and—let's be frank—obviously not the best student. And at book's end, sad to say, any confidence or mastery he may have achieved as a result of matriculating are squandered when he faces the future with the same aimless apathy as he's spent the rest of his allegedly advanced years.
It's a pity, because a great deal of his experiences at the CIA are interesting to outsiders: the rigid curriculum, the tyrannical and eccentric instructors, the obstacles to be overcome and the rigorous hoops to be jumped. The CIA has such a methodical and well-thought-out course structure, however, that it seems pretty obvious that any of the insights of which Dixon writes aren't his, but the school's—the exact realizations the institute wants its students to make at exact points in their training. Nor does it help that many of Dixon's class descriptions sound as if he's summarized his saved syllabi. The other students in the memoir are not much more than cyphers or personality tics who vanish quickly, like anything expendable. The instructors are a bit more fleshed out, but for most Dixon has precious little affection, and imparts a sense that he's settling some personal scores and grinding a few paring knives (if not axes) by giving himself the last word.
The book cured me of any vague wonderings I may have had of wishing for an alternative life path that might have involved the CIA, certainly. I'm just fortunate that, unlike Dixon, I never applied on whim and attended solely for the purpose of being able to host and cook for slightly snobbier dinner parties.
July 6, 2011
An unsparing account of the life of a culinary student at the CIA (Culinary Institute of America). At turns horrifying, inspiring and even a little gut-wrenching. I'm amazed by the students who come out of this program with confidence, the fires in their bellies stoked and raging even stronger than when they began. Dixon falls somewhere closer to the place I'd find myself- exhausted, humbled, nearly broken. I don't believe the world of professional cooking requires a caste system akin to the military, with an executive chef barking orders and upbraiding his employees at every turn. But this cruel system is alive and well at the CIA, and apparently, at many of the top restaurants in New York City. Think that plate of gorgeous food was prepared with love? Try blood, sweat and fear.
May 25, 2011
Really really liked this one. I think anyone who enjoys cooking has thought of going to culinary school and becoming a professional chef ... after reading this I'm pretty sure that path isn't for me as I know I couldn't handle the rigors and the yelling (at me!)! Really well written - I could picture the kitchens and the things Dixon cooked/baked/learned, even the feeling of being broke :). I admired his take on "clean" meat and treating the animals (and everything, really) that we eat with the highest respect. I was anxious to get home from work to keep reading. On a personal level, I was drawn in right away with the fact that Dixon "wasted" his twenties, hampered by depression and never feeling like a job or career was a good fit. Makes me think that even at my advanced age (same as his when he started at the CIA) I might still have a chance! Very recommended.
*We are what we nurture. I'd nurtured writing. I hadn't nurtured cooking. But I felt it there in me, and I was here to coax it out and see how it flourished.*
*They've worked for this moment for a long time, even before they ever knew they'd be here.
...What these guys did - what they do - is attainable. You'll wind up bleeding to get there, but you can get there. But not me, at least not with the bruises and slights of how I think about myself, with all my hesitations, my timidity, my half-assed methodology of doing what was expected of me but little more.
... If you can get rid of all your mental baggage and distractions, all your own doubts and pettiness and bullshit, you can arrive at the clarity of mind with a diamond focus that lets all of a person's training and skill bloom. Then a person can be great.
*Occasionally, he'd trail off in midsentence, as if he were stopping to read a postcard his mind sent him from some trip of his youth.*
*We are what we nurture. I'd nurtured writing. I hadn't nurtured cooking. But I felt it there in me, and I was here to coax it out and see how it flourished.*
*They've worked for this moment for a long time, even before they ever knew they'd be here.
...What these guys did - what they do - is attainable. You'll wind up bleeding to get there, but you can get there. But not me, at least not with the bruises and slights of how I think about myself, with all my hesitations, my timidity, my half-assed methodology of doing what was expected of me but little more.
... If you can get rid of all your mental baggage and distractions, all your own doubts and pettiness and bullshit, you can arrive at the clarity of mind with a diamond focus that lets all of a person's training and skill bloom. Then a person can be great.
*Occasionally, he'd trail off in midsentence, as if he were stopping to read a postcard his mind sent him from some trip of his youth.*
March 21, 2013
I'm not sure what it is about me that makes me slog through these memoirs written by people that, at least personally, drive me up the wall. Perhaps it's just a severely overdeveloped sense of schadenfreude that keeps me going through pages and pages of self-doubt... or maybe just plain old morbid curiosity.
At least in this case, the content was interesting. Although my dreams of being a chef died some time before I hit my teenage years, I've always been fascinated by cooking, and was interested to see what life at the CIA was like. In that sense, I was not disappointed.
I do, however, think that I would have liked to see the program through the eyes of someone who was slightly less full of himself. Yes, I know, I'm probably demanding too much, but still.
Also, did anyone else spend the entire second chapter saying "Watch Good Eats. No, watch Good Eats. No, seriously, watch Good Eats. For goodness sake." It seemed like all that chapter's angst could have been resolved quite easily (and yes, I do think that this was a viable option, based on my vague comprehension of the timelines he set out. Hell, he probably could have read--at least--the first book.)
Finally, I do think the book could have run through another round (or three) of editing. On top of the simple typographical and grammatical errors, there were a number of sentences that seemed to get lost within themselves, and a few points that I had to re-read a few times before finally concluding that something had simply not made the appropriate transition from the writer's brain to the printed (or, electronically projected, as it were) page.
At least in this case, the content was interesting. Although my dreams of being a chef died some time before I hit my teenage years, I've always been fascinated by cooking, and was interested to see what life at the CIA was like. In that sense, I was not disappointed.
I do, however, think that I would have liked to see the program through the eyes of someone who was slightly less full of himself. Yes, I know, I'm probably demanding too much, but still.
Also, did anyone else spend the entire second chapter saying "Watch Good Eats. No, watch Good Eats. No, seriously, watch Good Eats. For goodness sake." It seemed like all that chapter's angst could have been resolved quite easily (and yes, I do think that this was a viable option, based on my vague comprehension of the timelines he set out. Hell, he probably could have read--at least--the first book.)
Finally, I do think the book could have run through another round (or three) of editing. On top of the simple typographical and grammatical errors, there were a number of sentences that seemed to get lost within themselves, and a few points that I had to re-read a few times before finally concluding that something had simply not made the appropriate transition from the writer's brain to the printed (or, electronically projected, as it were) page.
June 23, 2011
While I appreciated Dixon's insight into the goings-on at the CIA, I really didn't connect with the author's personal experience. It's Dixon's lack of motivation to be anything beyond a cook that I guess really got to me. He's neither as good of a writer as Michael Ruhlman, nor is he as good of a chef as innumerable chefs out there. Dixon seems to focus on his own Peter Pan syndrome, never wanting to grow up. He's 38 and returning to school, because he just hasn't figured it out yet. His girlfriend shoulders most of the burden of this (why, I have no idea), paying the bills while he tries again to figure out what he wants to be when he grows up. Honestly, it's depressing rather than intriguing, barely humorous, and not nearly as good as other books on the subject. The descriptions of each class at the CIA did get me through the book, which is why I gave it two stars instead of one; however, I have no desire to seek out Dixon as a chef or to read another book he might potentially write. Meh all the way. Maybe you should buy it, just so that his poor girlfriend doesn't have to keep footing the bills.
August 24, 2011
This book should be re-titled "Jonathan Dixon's Boring Diary".
While I enjoyed the insight into culinary school, along with some fun new cooking vocabulary to impress my friends with, this book was seriously sub-par.
His lack of story-telling skills is cushioned with bad writing, and a general carelessness for the reader. It should have been published as a diary, not a novel.
Here's how it goes: Dixon guides you from class to class, outlining: the professor's attitude, dishes he cooks, complaints about studying, and the names of people he sat next to. Repeat that OVER AND OVER again.
It could have been so good. But it's not.
While I enjoyed the insight into culinary school, along with some fun new cooking vocabulary to impress my friends with, this book was seriously sub-par.
His lack of story-telling skills is cushioned with bad writing, and a general carelessness for the reader. It should have been published as a diary, not a novel.
Here's how it goes: Dixon guides you from class to class, outlining: the professor's attitude, dishes he cooks, complaints about studying, and the names of people he sat next to. Repeat that OVER AND OVER again.
It could have been so good. But it's not.
June 29, 2016
I can't do better than PetraX's review. The CIA from the inside, and from someone who never wanted to, and didn't, become a chef. As the title suggests, the author pares the experience down to the essentials: ingredients; tradition; preparation; smelling; tasting; and, oh yeah, cooking.
Author Jonathan Dixon apprentices at Tabla, a New York resturant I used to frequent whenever I was visiting. When he talked about his prep list, knew that menu; knew (mostly) what dishes they were for. I wanted them, and the Bread Bar, back again. That, alone, made this a five star.
Author Jonathan Dixon apprentices at Tabla, a New York resturant I used to frequent whenever I was visiting. When he talked about his prep list, knew that menu; knew (mostly) what dishes they were for. I wanted them, and the Bread Bar, back again. That, alone, made this a five star.
December 15, 2017
Given my obsession with food memoirs, it's surprising that I missed this when it was published in 2011. Dixon's superb tale is engaging and honest, and I found it impossible to put down. Given that the author is a writer first and foremost, the poor grammar and word choices were inordinately disappointing.
May 15, 2011
Crap writing. Lame story. Bullshit book. Don't waste your money.
May 21, 2015
Jonathan Dixon drifted. For years. Decades. One day he woke up and realized he was almost forty and had no career. He decided, with the help of his girlfriend, to become a chef. Further, he decided to become a chef by enrolling in the Culinary Institute of America, a rigorous training program.
I was fascinated with this story, Dixon’s account of his struggle to become a chef. I was especially intrigued with Dixon’s difficulties with the program, the same difficulties he had faced in earlier attempts to become a newspaper critic and a magazine staff member.
“Nelly once said to me that it wasn’t just failure I was afraid of, but succeeding, too. I didn’t understand it at the time she said it…but after she said it, the sentence lay there newly born, glistening with truth. To do something right carries with it a set of demands that you be able to do it again, that you irreversibly elevate your standards. I had no idea why that should be unnerving.”
As an educator, it was the teaching styles of the chefs at this prestigious school that most interested me. Here’s a sample of a typical diatribe from one teacher of the Extreme Fear teaching style:
‘”What is this? Were you going to try and serve this? This is useless! Useless! This is the worst spaetzle I have ever seen in my life! In my life! This is just…just…just *$#%*.” He tossed the spaetzle onto the floor and stamped his foot in it, grinding under his shoe….He turned and strode out of the room.’
Other teachers at the school seemed to be from the Let’s Just Deal With It school of teaching. With quiet patience, these teachers would approach students who were fumbling and help them correct their mistakes.
After almost two years of classes and preparation, Dixon finally has an epiphany. He is observing two experienced chefs working together to create a masterpiece of a meal. He is stunned by the experience:
“What I’d just seen was a philosophy of life in action. Two guys---two kids---who one day decided they would be excellent; who disciplined themselves, learned everything they could, practiced aggressively, and moved their thinking onto a whole other plane. They might have been musicians; they might have been dancers. In their case, it was about food. And they recognized that at each stage---from the second they set out their equipment through the moment they do their prep to the final assemblage---that there is a best possible way to do everything. Every gesture, no matter how small, was about the individual attempting to be great.
What those guys did---what they do---is attainable. You’ll wind up bleeding to get there, but you can get there. But not me, at least not with the bruises and slights of how I think about myself, with all my hesitations, my timidity, my half-*$#%* methodology of doing what was expected of me but little more.
This is why they yell at you. This is why you’re forced to get up in the morning and go cut fish. This is why they will never give you a compliment. This is why.
And I disagree with so much of how they do it sometimes, the chefs, with their bullying, their brute force. But I understand now the impulse behind it. If you can get rid of all your mental baggage and distractions, all your own doubts and pettiness and *$#%*, you can arrive at the clarity of mind with a diamond focus that lets all of a person’s training and skill bloom. Then a person can be great.”
A wonderful tale of a man who becomes a better person when he undergoes the training to become a chef.
I was fascinated with this story, Dixon’s account of his struggle to become a chef. I was especially intrigued with Dixon’s difficulties with the program, the same difficulties he had faced in earlier attempts to become a newspaper critic and a magazine staff member.
“Nelly once said to me that it wasn’t just failure I was afraid of, but succeeding, too. I didn’t understand it at the time she said it…but after she said it, the sentence lay there newly born, glistening with truth. To do something right carries with it a set of demands that you be able to do it again, that you irreversibly elevate your standards. I had no idea why that should be unnerving.”
As an educator, it was the teaching styles of the chefs at this prestigious school that most interested me. Here’s a sample of a typical diatribe from one teacher of the Extreme Fear teaching style:
‘”What is this? Were you going to try and serve this? This is useless! Useless! This is the worst spaetzle I have ever seen in my life! In my life! This is just…just…just *$#%*.” He tossed the spaetzle onto the floor and stamped his foot in it, grinding under his shoe….He turned and strode out of the room.’
Other teachers at the school seemed to be from the Let’s Just Deal With It school of teaching. With quiet patience, these teachers would approach students who were fumbling and help them correct their mistakes.
After almost two years of classes and preparation, Dixon finally has an epiphany. He is observing two experienced chefs working together to create a masterpiece of a meal. He is stunned by the experience:
“What I’d just seen was a philosophy of life in action. Two guys---two kids---who one day decided they would be excellent; who disciplined themselves, learned everything they could, practiced aggressively, and moved their thinking onto a whole other plane. They might have been musicians; they might have been dancers. In their case, it was about food. And they recognized that at each stage---from the second they set out their equipment through the moment they do their prep to the final assemblage---that there is a best possible way to do everything. Every gesture, no matter how small, was about the individual attempting to be great.
What those guys did---what they do---is attainable. You’ll wind up bleeding to get there, but you can get there. But not me, at least not with the bruises and slights of how I think about myself, with all my hesitations, my timidity, my half-*$#%* methodology of doing what was expected of me but little more.
This is why they yell at you. This is why you’re forced to get up in the morning and go cut fish. This is why they will never give you a compliment. This is why.
And I disagree with so much of how they do it sometimes, the chefs, with their bullying, their brute force. But I understand now the impulse behind it. If you can get rid of all your mental baggage and distractions, all your own doubts and pettiness and *$#%*, you can arrive at the clarity of mind with a diamond focus that lets all of a person’s training and skill bloom. Then a person can be great.”
A wonderful tale of a man who becomes a better person when he undergoes the training to become a chef.
September 11, 2015
Disclaimer: If you're expecting to hear that I loved everything about this book from the high stars I have given it, you're not going to get that. I rated it highly because it's impressive. It has left (possibly lasting) marks with me. I'm going to remember that moment where this book made me realize "Damn, I'd be dead at this school; I'd bawl my eyes out getting bitched out. I'm never setting foot in the CIA."
Well, from the less than stellar stars this book has, my best hope is that it's got something to do with being Beaten, Seared, and Sauced. Otherwise perfectly good cooking puns have been wasted. (Preferably, there better be a portion dedicated to being beaten and sauced.) If I were the sort, I'd definitely use the title Beaten, Baked, and Sauced. But, that's probably a little too punny.
Ahem. So, Beaten, Seared, and Sauced completely wasted its title. I would revoke its rights to culinary puns if I had that sort of power. Honestly, if you're going to use food words, use them like puns, and use them with pride. Because, even if one is almost forty, one is still capable of food puns, PARTICULARLY if one WRITES THINGS. That's probably the biggest shame. We have a writer who titled a book and squandered FOOD PUNS. Ahem. End of Review.
Actually, I'd like to take a moment to say a few words in how this book made me feel. I read chapter six one night before bed, and realized "I never want to cook in a restaurant." Which lead to spending part of the next day thinking "Ohmygoodness. I don't know what to do with my life." Yeah. A book on culinary school made me rethink my life decisions. This is early for me, as I usually wait until about October to dither about signing up for another semester of classes. I really felt for this poor guy. Here he is, almost 40, toddling into culinary school for the first time in his life, and not just any old technical college for culinary, no, the CIA, THE culinary school. This book succeeded in making me envious and filling me with revulsion. As cool as it would be to be able to say, "Yeah, I totally went to the CIA, I'm certain that I would have died by day three. Honestly, I cried over dissecting a tilapia. I could have never survived killing chickens or watching a vid on butchering a cow (from living to chopped up. it was required material). I would have skipped school before the externship. I would never ever have made it to graduation (not that I'm all that certain I'm going to make it to graduation going to a tech college where things are decidedly less prestigious and intense). I actually feel for this guy, because some days, I feel just like him. Did I take the right steps? Am I really doing the right thing? I might be quite a bit younger, but I can't deny that I'm worried about whether or not culinary school and I are a fit. Sort of a slow book, he spends over half of it on the first portion of school and his externship before he finishes with the little bit of finishing with schooling and graduation. OH. he graduates. I'd say spoiler, but it lists that with his author info. Alright. Awesome. Now to star this thing.
Well, from the less than stellar stars this book has, my best hope is that it's got something to do with being Beaten, Seared, and Sauced. Otherwise perfectly good cooking puns have been wasted. (Preferably, there better be a portion dedicated to being beaten and sauced.) If I were the sort, I'd definitely use the title Beaten, Baked, and Sauced. But, that's probably a little too punny.
Ahem. So, Beaten, Seared, and Sauced completely wasted its title. I would revoke its rights to culinary puns if I had that sort of power. Honestly, if you're going to use food words, use them like puns, and use them with pride. Because, even if one is almost forty, one is still capable of food puns, PARTICULARLY if one WRITES THINGS. That's probably the biggest shame. We have a writer who titled a book and squandered FOOD PUNS. Ahem. End of Review.
Actually, I'd like to take a moment to say a few words in how this book made me feel. I read chapter six one night before bed, and realized "I never want to cook in a restaurant." Which lead to spending part of the next day thinking "Ohmygoodness. I don't know what to do with my life." Yeah. A book on culinary school made me rethink my life decisions. This is early for me, as I usually wait until about October to dither about signing up for another semester of classes. I really felt for this poor guy. Here he is, almost 40, toddling into culinary school for the first time in his life, and not just any old technical college for culinary, no, the CIA, THE culinary school. This book succeeded in making me envious and filling me with revulsion. As cool as it would be to be able to say, "Yeah, I totally went to the CIA, I'm certain that I would have died by day three. Honestly, I cried over dissecting a tilapia. I could have never survived killing chickens or watching a vid on butchering a cow (from living to chopped up. it was required material). I would have skipped school before the externship. I would never ever have made it to graduation (not that I'm all that certain I'm going to make it to graduation going to a tech college where things are decidedly less prestigious and intense). I actually feel for this guy, because some days, I feel just like him. Did I take the right steps? Am I really doing the right thing? I might be quite a bit younger, but I can't deny that I'm worried about whether or not culinary school and I are a fit. Sort of a slow book, he spends over half of it on the first portion of school and his externship before he finishes with the little bit of finishing with schooling and graduation. OH. he graduates. I'd say spoiler, but it lists that with his author info. Alright. Awesome. Now to star this thing.
July 31, 2011
Account of the author's experiences as a student in a very high-end cooking school, Culinary Inst. of America. Clearly conveys how demanding the instructors are, the long hours, the strain on his relationship with his girlfriend, etc.
Minor quibbles: Most of the depictions of other students did not go far. I got the sense he didn't interview anybody for the book as such, so it's limited to what he happens to have conversed with them about -- this guy likes jazz, that woman was 20 years old and pretty and very good at baking but less enthused about learning the history of wine, and so on - might have been good to pick a couple of them to interview in depth about their own cooking aspirations and such....
He's very self-conscious about being 38 whereas most of the other students are a lot younger. That's an interesting angle to an extent, but it gets belabored.
For the most part, though, I really enjoyed it. He has some interesting perspectives on the various teaching styles of the chefs, ranging from the Hell's Kitchen-esque intimidation to the much more supportive and gentle-correction method. Some good background on food itself, which has become more of an interest of mine since my son has become fascinated with it.
And I especially enjoyed his description of getting re-motivated after a period of discouragement, secondary to watching some guys perform magnificently in a big cooking competition. Gives a great account of how beautiful it is to see the fruit of someone's development of their skills in an endeavor about which they are passionate, almost no matter what it is. I can't quite imagine sitting in a big hall watching people cook, but if I liken it to watching the young Bill Rodgers run, or Darell Green cover receivers, or hearing Allison Krauss' voice, I can appreciate his reaction.
A quick google search fails to turn up the source, but I remember reading once that "when you do most what you do best, you put a smile on God's face", and Dixon's account of seeing the cooking contest reminded me of that idea.
Minor quibbles: Most of the depictions of other students did not go far. I got the sense he didn't interview anybody for the book as such, so it's limited to what he happens to have conversed with them about -- this guy likes jazz, that woman was 20 years old and pretty and very good at baking but less enthused about learning the history of wine, and so on - might have been good to pick a couple of them to interview in depth about their own cooking aspirations and such....
He's very self-conscious about being 38 whereas most of the other students are a lot younger. That's an interesting angle to an extent, but it gets belabored.
For the most part, though, I really enjoyed it. He has some interesting perspectives on the various teaching styles of the chefs, ranging from the Hell's Kitchen-esque intimidation to the much more supportive and gentle-correction method. Some good background on food itself, which has become more of an interest of mine since my son has become fascinated with it.
And I especially enjoyed his description of getting re-motivated after a period of discouragement, secondary to watching some guys perform magnificently in a big cooking competition. Gives a great account of how beautiful it is to see the fruit of someone's development of their skills in an endeavor about which they are passionate, almost no matter what it is. I can't quite imagine sitting in a big hall watching people cook, but if I liken it to watching the young Bill Rodgers run, or Darell Green cover receivers, or hearing Allison Krauss' voice, I can appreciate his reaction.
A quick google search fails to turn up the source, but I remember reading once that "when you do most what you do best, you put a smile on God's face", and Dixon's account of seeing the cooking contest reminded me of that idea.
May 11, 2011
Dixon is a good writer. The book presents an insider view of life at the CIA, and he describes it well. He's an older student, and his colleagues call him Gramps...applies himself hard, and makes it to graduation, which a lot of folks don't achieve.
At the end of the book, he pretty much admits that he doesn't want to work in a restaurant, maybe he'll be a caterer, and anyway he really went to the CIA so he could write a book about it. Not a bad idea, in light of all the food books coming out, like Gabriel Hamilton's self-referential, braggy book.
Again, with this type of book, I wonder how he remembers the exact quotes and conversations he had with people...and the book seems like a sort of revenge against Floyd Cardoz, the owner of Tabla and the author's tormenter during his externship.
The culinary education at the CIA did sound pretty comprehensive. Maybe if I was thirty years younger...not. The book would have been better if he had put in more recipes, like his little brief on roasting a chicken. Oh well. It'll probably be on the best seller list along with Hamilton's book.
I got a kick out of him writing "bains-marie" and not "bain-maries". Kudos on the French. Recommended to foodies and an interesting read.
At the end of the book, he pretty much admits that he doesn't want to work in a restaurant, maybe he'll be a caterer, and anyway he really went to the CIA so he could write a book about it. Not a bad idea, in light of all the food books coming out, like Gabriel Hamilton's self-referential, braggy book.
Again, with this type of book, I wonder how he remembers the exact quotes and conversations he had with people...and the book seems like a sort of revenge against Floyd Cardoz, the owner of Tabla and the author's tormenter during his externship.
The culinary education at the CIA did sound pretty comprehensive. Maybe if I was thirty years younger...not. The book would have been better if he had put in more recipes, like his little brief on roasting a chicken. Oh well. It'll probably be on the best seller list along with Hamilton's book.
I got a kick out of him writing "bains-marie" and not "bain-maries". Kudos on the French. Recommended to foodies and an interesting read.
May 6, 2013
I read this as part of the Pi Phi Book Club, and I thought it was an interesting description of the CIA and working in restaurant kitchens. It's also odd to read a food memoir by someone who is not a culinary rockstar (as opposed to something like Yes, Chef: A Memoir or Blood, Bones, and Butter: The Inadvertent Education of a Reluctant Chef - both of which I love for different reasons). But it was weird that the narrative almost subverts itself, instead of watching him triumph, you begin of realize, about the same time he does, that he is not cut out for this. The aimless drifting in the earlier part of his life is not cured by the CIA, which is normally how these things go, when people write books about a Hail Mary pass late in life. I liked hearing about the classes and the cooking (and how much more I prefer being a home cook and eating at nice restaurants). But there was something about him that frustrated me.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 4, 2011
When Jonathan Dixon was thirty eight. Which was just a few years ago, he decided to pursue a new, exciting and somewhat scary challenge. He was going to enroll at the Culinary Institute of America (CIA). Jonathan had shared a love for food. He was a former writer for Martha Stewart Living magazine after all. Though, Mr. Dixon quickly learned that even the simplest of things like buttering meat or cutting fish is harder than you would think. There is an art form to what you are taught at CIA.
This book was a very, insightful and fun look into the world of the CIA. Chef Gerard Viverito, the fish instructor was one of my favorite instructors. This is funny as most of the students there will tell you that he is one of the most feared instructors there. He can make a grown man cry. After reading this book, you might have better luck becoming a CIA agent than graduating the Culinary Institute of America and becoming a chef. This school is not as easy as baking a pie. Mr. Dixon did a very, good job giving readers an inside look into the CIA without being boring. Beaten, Seared, and Sauced is the perfect appetizer for any foodie!
This book was a very, insightful and fun look into the world of the CIA. Chef Gerard Viverito, the fish instructor was one of my favorite instructors. This is funny as most of the students there will tell you that he is one of the most feared instructors there. He can make a grown man cry. After reading this book, you might have better luck becoming a CIA agent than graduating the Culinary Institute of America and becoming a chef. This school is not as easy as baking a pie. Mr. Dixon did a very, good job giving readers an inside look into the CIA without being boring. Beaten, Seared, and Sauced is the perfect appetizer for any foodie!
January 24, 2019
Dixon’s writing sparkles with clarity. He rarely steps away from the stove to share the human side of his experience, but when he does—it strikes deep. The book devoted 90% of its space to the minutiae of preparing food, but the remaining 10% offers a moving study of depression and purpose. It’s a shame that Dixon didn’t spend more time on these subjects, since that’s where his writing sings.
This book is a literal walk-through of culinary school. That’s a strength—quick speed, no BS—but it cost us a sense of perspective. After Dixon’s last class, the book just stops. Did he find answers? A future direction? Since the book doesn’t tell us, and especially since he vanished from the Internet afterwards, we’ll never know.
This book is a literal walk-through of culinary school. That’s a strength—quick speed, no BS—but it cost us a sense of perspective. After Dixon’s last class, the book just stops. Did he find answers? A future direction? Since the book doesn’t tell us, and especially since he vanished from the Internet afterwards, we’ll never know.
August 6, 2018
A good memoir should educate, entertain, enlighten. Beaten, Seared and Sauced is such a memoir.
I like that Jonathan was older when he went to the CIA. It's never too late to change paths, in spite of what some reviewers had to say about that. I like the story itself, who Jonathan Dixon is as a person. His time at CIA ticks all the boxes. I hate cooking. But I loved learning about what it is to be a chef and to love food and the process of preparing it. His choice to follow his own path at the end, his attitude toward his courses, his passion for preparing meals all factored into making this book a recommended read.
I like that Jonathan was older when he went to the CIA. It's never too late to change paths, in spite of what some reviewers had to say about that. I like the story itself, who Jonathan Dixon is as a person. His time at CIA ticks all the boxes. I hate cooking. But I loved learning about what it is to be a chef and to love food and the process of preparing it. His choice to follow his own path at the end, his attitude toward his courses, his passion for preparing meals all factored into making this book a recommended read.
September 8, 2015
So while I loved the descriptions of what went on in class, I found Dixon himself a little whiny and self serving. I was willing to go along with him for most of his journey through his classes, but...when we got to the section on his internship, I really was just annoyed with him. But his descriptions of the food he prepared and the ingredients he worked with throughout his education were beautiful and lyrical. Even his description of the butchering scene was bright and vivid. So overall, can't say I'd necessarily be friends with the guy but I'd definitely read something else he wrote.
March 2, 2018
Jonathan Dixon's "Beaten, Seared, and Sauced: On Becoming a Chef at the Culinary Institute of America" was an interesting read, but he seems overly self-congratulatory while simultaneously overly critical of those around him. For those interested in the world of chefs, Dixon's book is reminiscent of Anthony Bourdain's Ktichen Confidential as an insider's look behind the curtain, but Bourdain also seems more willing to take personal responsibility for his faults.
April 6, 2015
Great inside view
Great inside view of the cooking world and the various personality types that thrive, fail, or just get by there. I liked the conclusion that you can make a successful life for yourself if you remain open to learning, and persist through the boring or just plain painful parts of school or on the job training. Knowing who you are helps tremendously in choosing a satisfying way to make a living.
Great inside view of the cooking world and the various personality types that thrive, fail, or just get by there. I liked the conclusion that you can make a successful life for yourself if you remain open to learning, and persist through the boring or just plain painful parts of school or on the job training. Knowing who you are helps tremendously in choosing a satisfying way to make a living.
August 18, 2011
Okay, this guy went to the CIA when he was 40 and just graduated last year. I went to school there when I was 36 and graduated in 2006. His first few impressions of the CIA were right on as I had the same ones when I was there. His descriptions of the chefs, and I had a few of the same ones, made me laugh. Especially the asshole who taught Asian cuisine, I had forgotten how much I hated him!
July 24, 2011
I often fantasize about going to culinary school. This was a great glimpse of the CIA and how HARD it is!
December 30, 2013
I had to slow myself down to make the book last longer. I loved, loved, loved it. But I suspect you have to like cooking and meal preparation to enjoy this book. A+
August 22, 2023
Good look into what it takes going through culinary school. Makes me excited but nervous
January 5, 2020
Definitely in my wheelhouse interest-wise. I did find it interesting to get a peek into the CIA kitchens as well as a high-end NYC restaurant. The narrator, for me, was off-putting at times, a bit self indulgent and whiny. I also thought the writing scours have used more polish.
August 21, 2017
Overall, I felt like this book was really well written. It wasn't a hard read, but defiantly kept you interested to the end. I was able to understand the text without having to re read and sit and really think about what the author is trying to tell me. Dixon just says it like it is. I enjoyed how the author was relatable and personal in all parts of the book. Jonathan Dixon was also extremely honest in his book. He didn't only talk about the good parts of the CIA and how amazing it is. Dixon referred to the teachers he didn't like, or recipes, or facility. That sort of honesty is very hard to come across and really shows that the author was striving to give his readers the most authentic moments of his time there. Dixon was also very genuine about his experiences. He shared his true thoughts about classmates, even the negative ones. That is just realistic. People don't just like everyone they meet in life. This is one of few books that I have been assigned in school, that I have actually read start to finish.
I loved how detailed the author was. My favorite parts were the ones where Dixon was explaining, step by step, how the recipes they were taught were made. This was really interesting to me because I am super into watching the Food Network and just watching people cook. I would be able to get the ingredients and take out this book for the recipe. No cooking book needed! I did feel, however, that these recipes were a little unnecessary. They seemed to take up space rather than contribute to the book.
I also appreciated how open the author was about his financial state throughout the book. It wasn't all fun and games for him. Most of the people in the institute where fresh out of high school and still had their parents paying for them to go to culinary school. Since Dixon never had a steady job, he never had a lot of money. He had barely enough to scrap by. The CIA gave him scholarship money for good grades in classes. I had no idea that they did this and I think it is really cool. The CIA was helping keep Jonathan motivated to do his best by offering him money for his tuition. I gave this book 5 stars, but it was not perfect. I just enjoyed the read and learning about something I had previously no knowledge on. I would recommend this read to anyone! It is not for all ages, but young adults and up I think would really enjoy this book.
I loved how detailed the author was. My favorite parts were the ones where Dixon was explaining, step by step, how the recipes they were taught were made. This was really interesting to me because I am super into watching the Food Network and just watching people cook. I would be able to get the ingredients and take out this book for the recipe. No cooking book needed! I did feel, however, that these recipes were a little unnecessary. They seemed to take up space rather than contribute to the book.
I also appreciated how open the author was about his financial state throughout the book. It wasn't all fun and games for him. Most of the people in the institute where fresh out of high school and still had their parents paying for them to go to culinary school. Since Dixon never had a steady job, he never had a lot of money. He had barely enough to scrap by. The CIA gave him scholarship money for good grades in classes. I had no idea that they did this and I think it is really cool. The CIA was helping keep Jonathan motivated to do his best by offering him money for his tuition. I gave this book 5 stars, but it was not perfect. I just enjoyed the read and learning about something I had previously no knowledge on. I would recommend this read to anyone! It is not for all ages, but young adults and up I think would really enjoy this book.
April 10, 2012
Perhaps it's because I went back to school at roughly same age as the author, but I really identified with him as "the old guy" in class. Some reviewers have criticized him for not socializing with his fellow students, but that's tough when they're a generation younger, with their own set of (cultural) references. I enjoyed his descriptions of the various classes, and their instructors, although I admit that the personalities (except possibly for The Fish Guy) did kind of blur together by the end of the book. The "group leader" thing didn't seem particularly effective to me, beyond the ability to hold sessions where students vented. I think that needs more "teeth" - perhaps a midterm meeting between that person and a school administrator to discuss how things are going in the class? Some of their "brilliant" chefs at CIA honestly don't seem cut out for a teaching job. As a slight spoiler, his externship experience was so horrible that I'd make a point of avoiding that restaurant if I were in the area; still, they must've given him enough of a passing evaluation for him to graduate; I was frustrated that he left that detail out of the book.
One thing I would very much like to know: how did the idea of a book work exactly? Did he have a contract (or at least the idea of using the experience towards one) from the outset? Did that come up during the CIA study? Or afterwards, as a way to have gotten something back from all that effort?
Anyway ... I recommend the book highly. As with many other reviewers, I'd be interested in whether he's still cooking? It occurs to me now that he'd make a great substitute in the kitchen, where folks have lives, including emergencies that come up. As a CIA grad, the restaurants would have to pay him a decent amount, and he could avoid the politics (pretty much), and not feel as though the job were a grind. A thought.
One thing I would very much like to know: how did the idea of a book work exactly? Did he have a contract (or at least the idea of using the experience towards one) from the outset? Did that come up during the CIA study? Or afterwards, as a way to have gotten something back from all that effort?
Anyway ... I recommend the book highly. As with many other reviewers, I'd be interested in whether he's still cooking? It occurs to me now that he'd make a great substitute in the kitchen, where folks have lives, including emergencies that come up. As a CIA grad, the restaurants would have to pay him a decent amount, and he could avoid the politics (pretty much), and not feel as though the job were a grind. A thought.
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