Going to Culinary School and Other Craziness I Have Been Entertaining

For almost ten years now I have wanted to get my PhD. Countless grad school applications (okay, only about 6 really), interviews, and rejections later, I am still chasing that dream...for now. However, since the Rainbow Cake, a little seed has been planted in my brain that has made me think that maybe I've chosen the wrong career path and should entertain culinary school.

Now let's not get delusional. One semi-fabulous cake a pastry chef does not make, but the joy of seeing someone savor a bite of my cakes in pure om nom ecstasy seriously gets me high. I mean check this out: I don't know if you remember the time I stole eggs from Bobby Flay, but it also involved this PhD lady I work with. As you may recall, this woman made it pretty clear throughout our interactions that it pains her to condescend to my level. Well, something amazing happened. After glancing upon the rainbow cake, she took some home to her rainbow-loving children. The next day, she spots me in the hallway, grabs my arm, and proceeds for the next 15 minutes to talk to me about how awesome it was and how it made her kid's entire day. Fifteen whole minutes! Now that might now seem like a big deal, but I've been doing some calculations and that is more time talking about the cake than she talked to me throughout all the rest of our interactions combined...including when she interviewed me for a position I didn't get. If that doesn't boost your self worth a little than maybe your self-esteem is more solid than mine.

Well, last night I was reading a magazine with cake recipes and tips and thinking, "I can do those." Now, I'm not talking about all that crazy wedding foolishness with writing and scrolling and whatnot. But things more like this:


I can pull these off...probably.

 My first thought was, "I'll make that for us with Sunday Supper." However, after reading the calorie counts on these bad boys, I started to weep. Some of the cakes pictured above have more than 850 calories PER SERVING and more than 50 grams of fat. I cried and vomited a little in my mouth with guilt as my stomached ached for cake. My scale has registered over the self-loathing number of 170 lbs., and I have been trying to cut back. Just one slice of these would put me way behind in the "I am not a lard-ass" department. This brings me back full circle to the skinny chef debate and trying to figure out how to circumvent this problem.

This is when I had a semi "aha!" moment. What if I made these cakes and sold them to little coffee shops around town? They aren't looking for cakes with words or fancy scrolling, but they are looking for decedent sweets to pair with their lattes. I tossed in bed for an hour last night wondering if I could really pull this off. Anxiety ate me up. I don't know if I would even be bold enough to ask these businesses if they would be willing to supplement their merch with my collection of confections. I swear, I have no balls. Even an imaginary rejection from a restaurateur makes me break out into a sweat. However, the supplemental income and happiness watching some skinny bitch snarf my 1000 calorie cake slice with her soy latte makes me seriously higher than a kite covered in methamphetamine.

A co-worker has a cousin that makes wedding cakes, and she has offered to let me come watch in a few weeks. I figured I will learn a few things and see if this is something I can see myself doing. Perhaps a few basic classes on frosting techniques will help me get those nice icing layers and flat cake tops I so desire. Then I will be in a more confident position.

What do you guys think? Doctorate or give the cakes a whirl?

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