What I Learned in Culinary School
A look back 13 years post-grad, plus a Jacques Pépin cameo!
In September 2011, I earned my Professional Culinary diploma from The Institute of Culinary Education (ICE) in New York City. Since then, I’ve worn many hats in the food industry: cooking class instructor, video producer, food stylist, and most recently, content director at Williams Sonoma. Fortunately, I’ve always looked good in hats!
Over the years, I’ve often heard from aspiring culinary students and recent graduates seeking advice on their next steps. So, in honor of my 13th year since graduation, I’m sharing invaluable lessons I learned in culinary school.
Do it Right the First Time, or Do It Over
While I now live by the mantra “done is better than perfect,” learning to do things right the first time—or risk doing them over—was a huge shift for me in culinary school. Whether it was carefully skimming stock for clarity, patiently browning butter, or precisely tempering chocolate, the temptation to cut corners was always there. But I quickly learned that in the kitchen, shortcuts can lead to mistakes—and redoing something often takes far longer than just doing it properly from the start.
Label Your Sh*t
On the first day of culinary school, we were given our tools of the trade: a set of Wusthof knives, restaurant-grade utensils, and blue cotton side towels. Our first instruction? Label *everything*—especially the Y-peelers, which, despite their modest $5 price tag, are prized by *sticky fingers* in professional kitchens.
I vividly remember etching my initials into the bolster of my knives and wrapping painter’s tape around my spatulas. It was my first real lesson in kitchen culture: every chef for themselves, and that goes for every last Microplane.
Clean As You Go
At the Culinary Institute of America (CIA), I’ve heard students have designated dishwashers in their kitchen classrooms. But at ICE? We washed everything ourselves (yes, I walked one mile uphill to school… both ways!). In the real world, where most of us don’t have the luxury of a personal housekeeper or even a dishwasher, "clean as you go" is *that girl*.
The trick? Keep two rags by your cutting board—one wet, one dry. This makes it easy to wipe down knife blades, spills, and oil splatters. Or, simply rinse and neatly stack dishes by the stove to tackle later. A little cleaning now saves you from a mountain of mess later. Your future self will thank you.
It Probably Needs More Salt
In culinary school, every stove had a ninth pan of kosher salt, unsalted butter, and a squeeze bottle of canola oil nearby. One of the first skills we mastered was the art of seasoning: grabbing a three-finger pinch of salt, tasting, and adjusting. Repeating this process over and over helped develop our palates.
Most days, we'd present our dishes to the instructor for tasting, and the feedback was almost always the same: it probably needed more salt.
At home, I don’t season quite as aggressively as in a restaurant, but when a dish feels flat, it's usually a sign it needs a touch more salt—or a salty boost from soy sauce, Parmesan, capers, or another flavorful element.
The Classroom of Life
I nannied for a high-net-worth family in Soho, shuttling their kids from school to soccer at Chelsea Piers and language lessons in Tribeca. When they asked me to join them on a two-week trip to Tuscany, I faced a dilemma: the timing overlapped with our Italian cuisine module in class. The irony wasn’t lost on me.
In the end, I chose the country over the classroom. It’s a reminder that the best learning experiences often come when we embrace a bit of risk.
Braising Is Highly Underrated
Braising—slowly simmering meat or vegetables in liquid, low and slow—is an underrated technique. Discovering how to build flavor in a Dutch oven (instead of a Crockpot) was a revelation for my early 20s self. I loved how just a few ingredients and some patience could transform tough cuts of meat or humble root vegetables into something magnificent.
I braise year-round (thank you, Northern California weather!) and it never fails to deliver deeply satisfying, flavorful results.
Create Without Comparison
In 2011, Instagram didn’t exist, and I’m grateful I experienced culinary school without the pressure of constant comparison. There was a sense of innocence and mystery to the journey, allowing me to focus fully on my own growth. Today, with all the day-in-the-life and POV videos of culinary students, that experience feels less personal. I’m reminded how important it is to create from a place of authenticity, not in competition with others.
Follow Your Weird
When I set out to go to culinary school, my motivation was clear: to serve the home cook. I quickly realized that most people weren’t whipping up veal reductions or baking 2-day, 5-pound-butter desserts on a regular basis.
Back then, gluten-free, vegan, dairy-free, and paleo diets were just starting to emerge in the food world. I connected with a classmate, Kat, who, like me, was fascinated by these trends and new ingredients like chia seeds, quinoa, and kale—things we’d read about in cookbooks and on food blogs. I constantly raised my hand, asking questions and digging deeper. A few other students were going rogue too, experimenting with fermentation or adapting recipes for food allergies.
I’m so glad I followed my weird. Exploring those curiosities gave me a well-rounded understanding of different cooking styles, which became invaluable later in my career as a private chef, recipe developer, and cooking instructor.
Gruyère, Baguette, and Coffee: The Ultimate Breakfast
Throughout my time in culinary school, my appetite was a constant struggle—always eating yet never feeling full. My days started early as I took the F train from Prospect Park in Brooklyn, where I shared a railroad-style brownstone with three roommates. Breakfast was usually a lost cause.
Fortunately, in our kitchen classroom, there was always a baguette, a hunk of Gruyère, and a pot of coffee waiting for us. This became our essential sustenance. Tasting spoons of pan sauces hardly count as a meal, and after hours of cooking, we’d gather at this makeshift "water cooler," tearing off pieces of bread, stuffing them with cheese, and washing it all down with coffee rich in heavy cream and sugar. It was simple, satisfying, and exactly what we needed to power through the day.
Learning from culinary legend and pioneering educator Chef Jacques Pépin on set in his home studio in Connecticut.
Culinary school can be quite pricey, and with so many alternative paths to gain professional cooking experience, it’s worth debating whether it’s truly essential in today’s culinary landscape. If you’re contemplating culinary school, feel free to reach out—I’m here to listen and share insights!
this is fabulous, Clare! Many thanks for posting.