My Day at the CIA

Last month I had the incredible opportunity to be a guest speaker at the Culinary Institute of America. Professor Elana Raider asked me to come in and speak to her Introduction to Gastronomy class, and after I got over my excitement (Interaction! With other humans! The CIA!), I wondered what on earth to present. Perhaps a story of my food journey? Tales from the trenches of haute cuisine? Refusing to be a starving writer, and becoming a starving entrepreneur instead? These were all plausible, but I had told them a million times; surely there was something with more impact.

Then it hit me: Food Philosophy.

Of all the audiences on earth, here was one that would (a) be captive; (b) understand the word “gastronomy”; and (c) have a food philosophy – whether they realized it or not. Point (a) was of particular importance.

I have a tendency to become slightly…hyper…when I talk about food, so I tried to force myself to be conscious of not scaring the hell out of a group of people fresh and new to culinary school. This was their first CIA class, and they were impressionable at this stage; one arm flail too many and it could be curtains.

Of course, upon entering said room – a theater with tiered seating, mind you – I went completely into overdrive. There was a television-ready demo kitchen set up in this glorious auditorium, complete with a monstrous marble counter, overhead screen and a sassy red KitchenAid mixer so big I could take a spin in it. I mean that quite literally.

I could barely contain myself while the students gave their class presentations, because I was itching to get down there and put our home page up on the big screen (it’s the little things in life that thrill me). Here was the stage where great chefs have stood – educating the future food professionals of the world – and someone had let me in the building. The moment was indescribable.

I know that in any given presentation, if you can reach just one person, and give them an impetus to think differently, or see your point of view, the work is a success; it’s that kindred soul you seek to reach, to inspire – with whom to share your experience in a way that causes him to say, “I get it.”

With a reminder (ineffective) to myself to talk more slowly, I summarized what we were doing with the Gilded Fork, and why, and what food philosophy meant to us. When Professor Raider asked me to clarify what I meant, I explained to the students that whether or not they were conscious of it, each person in that room had a food philosophy: In the singular moment when they decided to pursue a culinary career, food was solidified as an important component of their existence, whatever the reasons. Perhaps some had grown up in the kitchen, at the elbow of a grandmother, or perhaps some came from a home where cooking was not a priority, and so they took it upon themselves to embrace its soulfulness. I emphasized that in their careers, whatever role they chose in cuisine, they had the opportunity to share that philosophy with each guest, client, or reader who crossed their paths. They could inspire people to give more thought to food itself, beyond razzle dazzle and chef reality TV.

While I did notice some heads nodding off to sleep (and I completely attribute that to the 4PM time period, as my presence is riveting), most of the room made an effort to stay awake and listen to what I had to say. One or two stayed behind to chat, and it was thrilling to hear what brought them there, how they were juggling a “normal” life of full-time work and school to pursue a passion. And then there was my favorite, which will remain forever etched in my mind: This beautiful young lady with long, strawberry-blond hair walked up to me and said, “It’s so exciting to see how excited you are about your work.”

Streams of light burst through the ceiling…a culinary choir began to sing…I had reached someone. She heard me. I had seen her own passion shine through earlier in the class, as she was one of the student presenters, so it was no surprise that she was a kindred spirit. Long may she enjoy the passion of her own work, and may it fulfill her to the degree I feel such joy each day.

For you see, it is passion for ideas, for life, for aesthetics – for philosophy – that has inspired me to take this path. And nothing gets me more excited than being able to share it face to face; for me, it is an act of full mind-body engagement. I was not surprised to see that every single photo taken of my presentation has all of me telling the story: hands up in the air to illustrate a big idea, clasped at my chest in emphasis, or sweeping across the front of me with a broad statement. Thankfully my arms are short.

Professor Raider has asked me to come back. It turns out she digs food philosophy, too.

Jennifer Iannolo is the founder and editor-in-chief of the Gilded Fork.