Beaten, Seared, and Sauced

March 28, 2011
At 38, after years of odd New York jobs, Dixon enrolled in the two-year Culinary Institute of America program with no motivation besides his love of cooking. He put life on hold and immersed himself in classes in math and gastronomy, and labs in food identification and fabrication. Dixon manages an honorable and straightforward narrative out of the constant evaluation, testing, and various personality conflicts, even when the details swing between slaughterhouse excitement and onion-chopping tedium. Heâs subtle on the competitive effects of foodieism and celebrity, and fair on his own shortcomings during an externship in New York City, where he earned real compliments but was told that he lacked the makings for a culinary career. Though stress and tension regularly took their toll, Dixon stuck with the program, and during the finals for the Bocuse dâOr he experienced an epiphany that paved the way for satisfactory completion of the program. In the end, this book serves as a nice supplement, that of a novice cook, to Mark Ruhlmanâs The Making of a Chef.

April 1, 2011

A former odd-jobber and Martha Stewart Living staff writer records the highs and lows of studying at the Culinary Institute of America.

Just before turning 38, Dixon decided to veer from his aimless career path and pursue cooking, the passion of his youth, as a vocation. So he and his girlfriend boxed their urban life and moved to scenic Rhinebeck, N.Y., where he embarked on the two-year Associate of Occupational Studies program at the nearby Culinary Institute of America (CIA)—a place "like Disneyland for cooks." Knowing at the outset that he never wanted to own his own restaurant, Dixon's fears that his latest desire to become a chef was yet another form of vocational "escapism" and "indulgence" were only heightened upon meeting his classmates, many barely out of high school—as one notes, "my parents wanted me to come here instead of juvie"—others possessed of the same focus and drive as famous CIA alumni Thomas Keller and Grant Achatz. "The Muslims may have ninety-nine names for God," writes Dixon, "but at the CIA, there was pretty much just one: Keller." Filled with engaging journalistic details as his studies move from theory to practice, Dixon's acerbic account makes the CIA program sound like two years of protracted fraternity hazing, with 16-hour days and boot camp–like ego annihilation for weeks on end, coupled with an emphasis on collective success or failure in the kitchen. Throughout, the author waffles between self-doubt and confidence, gaining as much culinary knowledge—"For every end result, there are a dozen different ways to get there"—as personal introspection: "I knew I was too pigheaded to flourish in a situation where ceding control to others was required to truly learn and succeed."

Cheeky and informative, but may leave readers wondering whether this writer will ever know what he wants to be when he grows up.

(COPYRIGHT (2011) KIRKUS REVIEWS/NIELSEN BUSINESS MEDIA, INC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.)

March 1, 2011

Dixon, a career seeker who has worn many hats in search of the one that fits him the best, chronicles life at the Culinary Institute of America. He holds nothing back in describing his experiences as a 38-year-old student in a profession that, because of necessary physicality, favors youth and obedience over age and autonomy. During the span of 19 months, Dixon learns not only how to cook but how to think like a chef in courses that range from practical (Food Safety) to performance based (Baking and Pastry) to philosophical (Gastronomy). He survives an externship at a demanding New York restaurant and scrapes by with a passing grade in Wines and Beverages, where a lifetime of learning is crammed into three weeks. With an original and refreshing voice, Dixon excels at capturing the mixed emotions of promises delivered and denied as he challenges convention and conquers the odds. VERDICT Rock star chefs have added to the allure of culinary education, and Dixon's vivid and honest portrayal should provide a reality check for fans of TV cooking competitions. Shelve this next to Michael Ruhlman's The Making of a Chef for a well-rounded collection.--Rosemarie Lewis, Georgetown Cty. Libs., SC

Copyright 2011 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

April 1, 2011
Directionless and approaching 40and with no realistic shot at a restaurant careerDixon enrolled in the Culinary Institute of America, the cooking Harvard responsible for some of the countrys finest chefs. A companion of sorts to Michael Ruhlmans more clinical The Making of a Chef (1997), Dixons candid course-by-course account charts his education as he gets whipped into shape by intimidating instructors (whose default temperaments seem to be near-apoplectic) alongside classmates often half his age. A chronically slow chef, Dixon made up for his lack of speed with a wholehearted dedication to learn as much as he possibly could in and out of the kitchen; and as a writer he has the steady-tempoed, clarified ability to make his pages-long descriptions of crafting a test menu rival the drama of anything youll see on a competition cooking show. As the highest levels of the food world become more and more a spectator sport, expect a book like this to have a much wider appeal beyond just hard-core foodies or those pondering a similarly bold step into the culinary big leagues.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2011, American Library Association.)

April 1, 2011

A former odd-jobber and Martha Stewart Living staff writer records the highs and lows of studying at the Culinary Institute of America.

Just before turning 38, Dixon decided to veer from his aimless career path and pursue cooking, the passion of his youth, as a vocation. So he and his girlfriend boxed their urban life and moved to scenic Rhinebeck, N.Y., where he embarked on the two-year Associate of Occupational Studies program at the nearby Culinary Institute of America (CIA)--a place "like Disneyland for cooks." Knowing at the outset that he never wanted to own his own restaurant, Dixon's fears that his latest desire to become a chef was yet another form of vocational "escapism" and "indulgence" were only heightened upon meeting his classmates, many barely out of high school--as one notes, "my parents wanted me to come here instead of juvie"--others possessed of the same focus and drive as famous CIA alumni Thomas Keller and Grant Achatz. "The Muslims may have ninety-nine names for God," writes Dixon, "but at the CIA, there was pretty much just one: Keller." Filled with engaging journalistic details as his studies move from theory to practice, Dixon's acerbic account makes the CIA program sound like two years of protracted fraternity hazing, with 16-hour days and boot camp-like ego annihilation for weeks on end, coupled with an emphasis on collective success or failure in the kitchen. Throughout, the author waffles between self-doubt and confidence, gaining as much culinary knowledge--"For every end result, there are a dozen different ways to get there"--as personal introspection: "I knew I was too pigheaded to flourish in a situation where ceding control to others was required to truly learn and succeed."

Cheeky and informative, but may leave readers wondering whether this writer will ever know what he wants to be when he grows up.

(COPYRIGHT (2011) KIRKUS REVIEWS/NIELSEN BUSINESS MEDIA, INC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.)