Once upon a time, my dad and I were at the kitchen table. I had just finished making miniature cream puff pastries during my junior year winter finals week and was packing them up to pass out to my friends.
“You know, if you want to go to culinary school instead of college, we can explore that,” he said.
“Really?” I asked.
Coming out of a working class background, my dad was on the fence about his children going into manual labor. His father worked in the steel mill from the time he was a child and his mother did hair under the table from their home. My cousin had wanted to go to beauty school after high school, and her father (my dad’s brother) had famously said, “like hell you are.”
My dad, seeing my skill level and dedication to baking and pastry more than studying for finals said, “We can talk more about it later.”
Later never came. By spring, my father had passed away.
Unfortunately, for my poor mother, she was now a single parent of a defiant, grieving teenager. To her horror, every day I would come home from school adamant that I did not want to finish. I wanted to take a year off, wait tables, or work at Dunkin Donuts (I’m not joking I told her this) instead of finishing high school or, worse, having to fill out college applications. Her saving grace was that I wanted to go to my dream school, the University of Pittsburgh. So I sucked it up and applied for early admission, only to not get in. I was crushed and threatened to drop out of high school when I turned 18.
“Please, Cait. Just get the piece of fuckin paper,” she begged.
“What am I going to do with it? I guess I could go to culinary school. Dad said he would support it,” I reasoned.
“No. You are going to college. If you do one year of college and hate it, then you can do whatever you’d like,” she promised.
I was deflated, but my punk friend invited me to shadow her on campus at DePaul. She threw me a party that night at her apartment on Lake Shore Drive, and I thought that maybe I could tolerate a year.
That year turned into 4. Despite my initial resistance, I graduated with honors, friends, and a solid job offer.
Obviously, my life has taken some twists and turns since then, but I’ve kept baking up until a few years ago. I won a baking contest at Intuit and have been dubbed the “quiche queen”. I participated in Bakers Against Racism and have met and connected with some super incredible people like Christina of Fruit and Flower and Kirstyn from The Very Best Cookie. I’ve done a stage (kitchen internship) at Bang Bang Pie and Biscuits.
Flash forward to last week…that in a moment of financial desperation, I decided to run a bake sale. Even though I’ve been on a baking hiatus for a few years, I knew I could rely on my skills to sell some delicious baked goods. Something about promoting my bake sale triggered my algorithm and I saw a post from Barrio Bread. They were hiring bakers. I got the “fuck its” and applied. I interviewed on Monday, they told me I wouldn’t hear back until Friday, but I was offered the position on Wednesday.
In my frenzied anxiety of panic applying to full-time jobs, juggling freelance clients, and overall feeling like a frog being boiled alive, it really hadn’t hit me. But holy shit I’m going to train under Don Guerra.
Have you ever taken a major detour from your expected career path? Tell me about the moment you decided to go for it.
What ushered me to take the job was how incredible the interview felt. I’ve interviewed at other bakeries before, but this one is different. Barrio was created for the community, bringing back heritage grains to the Southwest. Those seeds didn’t exist, so Don worked with farmers and created them. He’s now working with the community: farmers, bakers, wholesalers, and bread enthusiasts to teach self-sustainability in the harsh desert climate.
I’m excited to start work, even a few days a week, to take my mind off how awful it is being underemployed. I’ve been anxious and not feeling “good enough” for my resume to be chosen among 500 other applicants. However, in scoring this incredible opportunity that 17-year-old Caitlin would be losing her shit over, I feel hopeful. I think my dad would be proud. I’m doing something I love and any extra time I have I will use to build my writing portfolio for grad school.
Grad school?
Yes, grad school.
It’s such a terrible idea to get an MFA right now. Just like I would say society would think it’s a terrible idea to take a baking job when you have 10 years of professional full-time work experience. But in the words of my favorite character from my favorite cheesy romcom, “Terrible idea. Don’t you just love those?”
xoxo,
Caitlin
It could be a terrible idea to celebrate with drinks then go to a dance class after then celebrate with more drinks