Exploring the World of Haute Cuisine Together in Our Sugar Relationship

When I dropped out of culinary school, I thought that I had left the world of fine dining behind me. I was so done with the hierarchy and the pretentiousness of it all. I just couldn’t imagine that I would ever step foot into a Michelin-starred restaurant again.

Where I was really happy was working at the local coffee shop in my neighborhood, making the pastries and jumping in as a backup barista during the morning rush.

My family thought I was crazy. They were pretty disappointed when I dropped out, especially because I had taken out student loans that I was now barely able to afford on my current salary. They didn’t understand why I didn’t at least look into getting a line cook job at an upscale restaurant or try to become a home chef for some well-to-do family. In sum, they thought my talents were being wasted on donuts and cinnamon rolls.

I was mostly able to tell them to mind their own business. I didn’t have to justify my happiness to them, and it’s not like they were helping me with the student loans or paying for my rent, so what power did they have, really?

Internally, though, I did feel like a bit of a…Well, I didn’t feel good about myself. My confidence was shot, and there was comfort in getting up before dawn to bake cookies, banana nut muffins, and whatever else. I could follow a recipe and even put a little bit of a creative spin on it, but the stakes were low. I was licking my wounds, you know? And plus, even if I accidentally burned a batch of bagels or oversweetened the poppy seed bread, the worst that would happen was that my very sweet manager would ask me to redo it. It was better than being yelled at by an angry man in a tall white hat in front of all my peers.

Anyway, I think that was part of why I was secretly annoyed to see a fine dining restaurant open up right across the street from the coffee shop. Of course, it wasn’t personal, but it sure felt personal. Like the universe was trying to remind me of my mistakes.

The universe also sent me another man in a tall white hat. His name was Brian.

Brian came in during my shift, and I could feel the energy change as soon as he walked in. He seemed like the kind of guy who was used to giving orders and getting his way. From my vantage point in the kitchen, I gave him a glance and then turned my attention back to croissants.

But then, my coworker Janie appeared in the window and said, with an apologetic tone, “There’s a customer who wants to talk to you.”

Great, I thought, the big business exec wants to complain about his pastry.

I was already braced for the worst, but it turns out Brian wanted to pay me a compliment.

“This is the best croissant I’ve had outside of France in a long, long time.”

Even his compliment kind of annoyed me. It felt like a subtle brag.

I gave him a curt thanks and tried to slink back into the kitchen.

“Listen,” he said before I could disappear. “I’m Brian. I just opened up the restaurant across the way. I’m going around and introducing myself to the neighbors. I wonder if you might want to come over after your shift and meet some of the team.”

“Oh, I’m not the owner here,” I told him immediately, thinking he had made a mistake.

“No, no, you’re the head baker here, I assumed that. I want you to meet our pastry chef. I feel like the two of you would get along.”

This was all feeling very network-ey in a way that reminded me of my culinary school days. I said, “Sure, yeah, I’ll head over when I’m off,” with no intention of actually going.

The next morning, to my dismay, Brian was back. And again, he asked to see me specifically.

“I was sorry you didn’t come by yesterday,” he said.

I made some excuse about having to head straight home for a fire alarm or something.

Brian, to his credit, saw through my lie.

“Well, listen, maybe you and I could have a one-on-one. It doesn’t have to be the whole crew. I’m so interested to hear how you learned to make such great pastries, and what brought you here. I hope I’m not stepping over any line here, but I’d love to take you on a date.”

I kind of appreciated his forwardness and acknowledgement that maybe I didn’t want to be thrown into a group situation. Also, sure, he was quite a bit older than me, but was it possible that Brian was kind of cute? Maybe I had misjudged him.

“You know,” I said, “Sure. But I get to pick the restaurant.”

I had Brian take me to my favorite taco truck in town. Yes, it was kind of a test. I wanted to make sure that Brian wasn’t some stuffy, pretentious foodie who would freak out if a little salsa got on his clothes.

To my surprise, he wasn’t. In fact, he already knew the guys working in the truck. Apparently, he and the cooks went way back, and he had even been invited to one of the cook’s niece’s quinceañeras. They already knew Brian’s order. I was shook.

“Okay,” I said, “You passed the vibe check.”

“Thank god,” he said playfully, “I’m constantly trying to stay relevant with your generation.”

By the end of the night, it was clear that there was chemistry. Brian was able to make me laugh, and he listened when I talked. But we had conveniently skirted any conversation about my going to culinary school or my disdain for fine dining.

Again, though, Brain seemed to read me.

“I get the sense,” he told me, “That maybe you’re not so enthusiastic about the new restaurant. Why is that?” I told him the truth. I found fine dining to be kind of elitist and arrogant.

“Let me guess,” he said. “You went to culinary school and hated it.”

“Why would you assume that?”

“I’ve seen your work station, and I’ve tasted your work. You don’t learn those skills from YouTube. But listen, I don’t blame you. There’s so much that needs to change about culinary school and the industry in general. But don’t knock fine dining completely. Let me change your mind. Let me take you out.”

I told him I’d think about it. But the truth is, I was already in. There was a reason I had gone to culinary school in the first place. Once upon a time, I had idealized these big chefs and the artistry of fine dining. Deep down, I was desperate to get back into that world.

Over the next year or so, Brian and I went to just about every high-end and Michelin-rated restaurant in the state. Brian always covered the bill. He had to have known that I wasn’t getting paid very well where I was, and he must have assumed that I had debt from culinary school. But it didn’t feel transactional. We really liked each other. He was able to teach me about technique and artistry that I hadn’t fully learned in school. And I think he really appreciated my “young” perspective on things. We didn’t always agree, and that was exciting for both of us.

I also spent a lot of time at the restaurant, more than I expected. I got to know the staff and went regularly to the family dinners and off-work parties. I thought I had shut myself out of that life forever, and here I was making friends with people who could have been my colleagues.

As far as Brian and I were concerned, it was clear that we were never going to have a traditional relationship. Brian was a restaurateur. Not only was he constantly busy, but he also didn’t intend to stick around forever. Once the restaurant was in a good place, he told me, he had another project lined up in another city.

Our time was limited, which actually made it more exciting and took any pressure off thinking about labels.

As our one-year anniversary came up, Brian unofficially broke up with me. It wasn’t a sad thing, actually. We had been talking about it for some time.

He got serious suddenly and said, “I want something before I go. I want you to sit down with the head chef at the restaurant and interview for the pastry chef position.”

My face flushed immediately.

“You remember I’m a drop-out right?”

“Here’s a secret: no one cares. I put in a good word for you. Take this leap. There aren’t a lot of opportunities that open up like this.”

As planned, Brian moved away, and our communication slowed down. But it wasn’t only because of the distance. It was also because I was hired on the staff at the restaurant Brian helped to open. I was too busy getting back to my dream, and Brian understood that. Every time he comes back to the city, we know we have a standing date at the food truck.