Winter at Leaping Waters Farm |
I came to understand that in order to become a chef, I either needed to run off to culinary school or work my way up from the bottom. Although it meant earning a fraction of my previous income, I decided to go with the latter. And I decided – for a variety of reasons – to move back to Roanoke, VA where my family lives. I found a great job as a prep and line cook at a restaurant downtown. For a year I woke up early and stayed up late, I bought knives and read cookbooks, I burnt my hands and cut my fingers, I came to understand why they call it "the weeds”, and I learned a thing or two about how to cook good food
Some lessons are hard learned. And I learned, finally, that although cooking is my passion, it is not my profession.
Discouraged, I volunteered on a couple of farms I had gotten to know through the restaurant. And I finally came to know my inner farmer (a genetic and latent predisposition, I’m guessing, since I've got farming on both sides of the family). I herded cows, watered pigs, and de-wormed sheep. And when I was done, I found my way - thanks to a kindly shepherd - into a temporary gig as the general manager of a local farm-to-table restaurant. After six successful months there, I passed the torch and took on another temporary gig helping out a good friend and an excellent farmer.
In a few weeks I move on to a new chapter of my life living and working in the D.C. area. But for now, I get to learn new life lessons as the Farmer’s Apprentice.
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