In my 8 short months at the Culinary Institute of America, I’m often asked the question, “Why are you here?” The answer is a bit complicated. While I usually give the generic “I want to be a food writer” response, it’s only a half-truth.
In the summer of 2008 my younger (and only) brother Kevin passed away in a car accident just four days after his 22nd birthday. The news struck my family like a vicious lightning bolt—we didn’t see it coming. What types of lessons in life prepare you for something as tragic as losing someone so dear to you? Your own child? Your own sibling? Your best friend? The truth is nothing can ever prepare you for such a thing. I didn’t know how to react; I just remember that time seemed to move rather quickly.
I was on auto-pilot the days leading up to Kevin’s funeral. I arranged most of the funeral details—I wrote his eulogy, rummaged through decades-old photographs for his slideshow, listened to stacks of CDs to find the perfect songs to play during the memorial, I wrote and edited the funeral program, I opened up a bank account in his honor to help raise funds for the memorial among other things that many would view as “tedious.” Looking back, I can’t believe how I was able to do it all.
When my parents wept, I held them. When my father fell to his knees because he didn’t have the strength to stand, I picked him off the ground. When my mom couldn’t sleep because her head hurt from crying all-day long, I helped dry her tears. When my parents refused to eat, I made them. I don’t think any experience in my life up until then matured me more than becoming a parent to my parents. It’s a very sobering experience.
After taking just three short weeks off from work, I had to go back; I felt like I needed a good distraction. For eight hours straight, I would sit behind my desk and hide behind my work, unattended, unaffected. But on my 30-minute commute home, I’d just cry mountains of tears in my car, where nobody else could hear me.
Then just two months later, I was laid-off from my job: the industry that I had worked in for several years was flailing; this was at the height of the recession.
After losing my job, I finally had the time to reflect on my life and what really mattered. Kevin had his whole life ahead of him, and then it was over. Just like that. In this grieving process the major lesson that I’ve learned—as cliché as it may sound—is that you must live each day to its fullest because you really don’t know when it’ll be over. That’s what makes life so beautiful: It’s the result of surviving. It’s a privilege. It’s a gift.
Just before Thanksgiving of 2009 I wrote a Bucket List, my “30 Things I Want to Do Before I Turn 30” list. In it I made a promise to myself and to my brother: I would do all of the things I have always wanted to do—regardless of how major or minute they may be. I thought long and hard about the things I had always wanted to do in my life that I never had the energy, motivation, or guts to do, and I wrote them down on that list. And then I thought about what makes me happy, what makes my heart sing? Cooking.
The one thing that I always turned to was cooking–it wasn’t just a necessity of survivial, it was therapy. For the bulk of the time I spent “finding myself” I learned that I was always cooking. Deep-frying and ice cream-making when I was happy, baking when I was upset, soup-making when I was sick, late-night snack making when I was stressed. Somehow cooking managed to nourish me in so many other ways.
When I began putting my “30 Things” list together, I wrote “Attend culinary school.” Another important component of that list is “Go back to New York for Kevin.” (New York City was the last place we vacationed together, and it was his dream to live there.)
So shortly after compiling that list, I began to take the steps toward completing those tasks. By completing this list, I felt that I was taking steps toward finding happiness.
Now that’s ultimately what led me to the CIA. After 8 months of classes, I’m currently on my 6-month-long externship in San Francisco, California, working in the test kitchen of the San Francisco Chronicle’s “Food & Wine” section. It’s truly been a dream since I’ve been here.
I can honestly say that I’ve found something that makes my heart sing. I’ve finally come to a place in my life where I’m actually happy. It’s taken me a very long and unrelenting journey to get to this place, but the road I traveled has made it worth it to me. I’ve learned to appreciate happiness so much more now because of it.
I will be documenting my adventures here on this “All Things Food” blog, and I welcome you to read these entries at your leisure. I’m really excited about being in another new city for the next few months, and I hope you enjoy reading about all the food + wine + adventuring that will be gracing these pages.
Thanks for reading!
Cheers,
Kelly Rae
