Yes folks, Luto-lutuan is bidding you farewell. This blog, after all, has served its purpose. But fear not (or quake in your flip-flops, alternatively)! I'm not hanging up my apron permanently. My saga continues at http://cookeatzen.wordpress.com
Showing posts with label luto-lutuan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label luto-lutuan. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Luto-lutuan is retiring!
Yes folks, Luto-lutuan is bidding you farewell. This blog, after all, has served its purpose. But fear not (or quake in your flip-flops, alternatively)! I'm not hanging up my apron permanently. My saga continues at http://cookeatzen.wordpress.com
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Wait a minute...
On second thought, I don't think I want this. Let me clarify: it's alright for the powers that be to post this blog on their page and say it was written by a student. I don't want them to attribute it to my name, though. And I must say, I have misgivings. Once they claim this blog, my editorial integrity is going to be questioned because my readers - yes, all three of you - will start suspecting I have become a marketing tool, and that I have to censor certain sentiments instead of remaining my old, candid self.Hmmm ... Anyway, last time I checked, I wasn't on their page yet. The brand manager probably found Luto-lutuan too roguish and highly unsuitable. LOL.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
You want me to whaat?
I just got a message today that my school is interested in picking up my blog, probably for marketing purposes.Super-LOL while blushing!
I hope that's not the end of my cherished anonymity. Also, I'm a bit embarrassed to have the brand manager - hi, Mr./Ms. Brand Manager! - read about how I went through school with utter gracelessness. I would love for my eulogist, as she/he speaks before my ashes are scattered out into the sea, to say that I went through life with great humor and grace, but so far it's been all humor. I certainly hope they get that, the self-deprecating humor-as-coping-mechanism thing. And I certainly hope it does not affect my chances of being hired by their signature restaurant (hint, hint!).
Anyway, please read away. I and this little writing project of mine would be honored, if we do get picked.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Welcome to Luto-Lutuan!
I'm starting this online journal because I've decided to switch careers and study professional cooking. How did I get here? I'm really an editor and writer by training and profession. For almost a decade now (gasp!), I have worked in various positions for an international media organization that outsourced some of its operations to my home country, the Philippines. When I started the job so many years ago, I liked the work, the corporate culture, the people and the pay, so I thought, “Hey, this could work, you and International Media Organization could grow old together!” Fast-forward a few more years and here I am, disenchanted with the corporate culture, some of the people, the pay and the work that was making me feel all dead inside. I had a disturbing suspicion that life was passing me by as I sat at my desk researching company news and editing copy. So I daydreamed, imagining myself as a food and travel writer gulping down pisco sour with Chilean locals or combing the souks of the Middle East.
The interest I developed in food grew into a desire to turn it into a career. After all, travel is practically a job requirement for chefs because they have to keep learning about other cuisines. I grew envious of white-suited men and women who could, with steel, fire and their bare hands turn a pile of leaves, a stick of butter, a slab of meat and a few lashings of broth into plated works of art that elicit sighs of rapture from appreciative diners. I wanted to wield a pepper mill with panache, julienne carrots as though I were dancing and knead dough with conviction. Okay, I'm getting carried away. You get the drift.
So, stoked by cooking shows, food books, articles and blogs, I decided to become a chef. I knew professional cooking would also be a hard life; I'd heard of chefs sleeping on the street because they couldn't afford to pay rent (Mats Loo), of chefs taking a finished plate out of an apprentice's hand and throwing it against a wall if they were displeased about how the the dish was prepared (see Heat, Bill Buford). Friends tell stories of chef-friends showing up pockmarked by burns, or with one hand wrapped in gauze after running a knife through it. The kitchen is a boys' club. There are crude sexist jokes (Heat again). Does a female chef get groped in the walk-in freezer, I wondered. Westerners write about this in books and blogs and talk about it in online message boards but as far as I knew, no Filipino had ever written about his journey into professional cooking.
And so, here I am. Pardon the avalanche of self-importance seemingly emanating from that sentence. It's not the case at all. In the first place, I am not even sure if this career change is going to prove successful. And, I don't even dare to be like others who, having graduated from cookery school and earned a measly year or two of experience, answer their cellphones with “Chef X speaking.” Pardon me, I dare not bandy the title about. What I want to do is chronicle my studies in cookery school and my journeys afterwards and share it with friends in the hope that it becomes entertaining and instructive. As far as I know, no Filipino has ever blogged about their experiences in culinary arts school. I'm not sure if it will inspire others who want to embark on a similar career path, but at the very least, it will be an eye-opener to those who want to enter the industry. I am not being paid or influenced by any commercial interests, so you can trust me to call something for what it truly is.
What do I want for myself? I want to keep writing, of course. I look up to Doreen Fernandez, Gilda Cordero-Fernando, Ruth Reichl, Jan Morris and Pico Iyer (the latter two are strictly not food writers but oh, they still rock!). A formal study of culinary arts would hopefully give me kitchen cred when I write about food and if fate is kind, perhaps someday I might approach even a tiny smidgen of their literary greatness. Wearing my toque, on the other hand, I look up to Sau del Rosario, Gene Gonzales, Gaita Fores, Helene Darroze, Jill Sandique, Jessie Sincioco and Grant Achatz. I pray that a Michelin-starred chef or establishment might deign to take me under their tutelage. In five years, I will probably try to become an industry-certified professional. No, I don't want to be on TV! I do, however, want to open my own place someday, and come out with a book celebrating Philippine cuisine. And I want to cook in France, where the tradition of culinary excellence began.
Ah, such lofty goals. By publicizing them, I run the risk of embarrassing myself if I fall flat on my face. You can hold me up to what I've said but please be kind in the event of failure. However, in case I grow a bloated, celebrity chef-like ego spawned by success, please, all of you who are truly my friends, slap me and bring me back down to earth. In the meantime, I will try to perfect both cooking and writing, and hope that you and I find the whole process both useful and entertaining.
The interest I developed in food grew into a desire to turn it into a career. After all, travel is practically a job requirement for chefs because they have to keep learning about other cuisines. I grew envious of white-suited men and women who could, with steel, fire and their bare hands turn a pile of leaves, a stick of butter, a slab of meat and a few lashings of broth into plated works of art that elicit sighs of rapture from appreciative diners. I wanted to wield a pepper mill with panache, julienne carrots as though I were dancing and knead dough with conviction. Okay, I'm getting carried away. You get the drift.
So, stoked by cooking shows, food books, articles and blogs, I decided to become a chef. I knew professional cooking would also be a hard life; I'd heard of chefs sleeping on the street because they couldn't afford to pay rent (Mats Loo), of chefs taking a finished plate out of an apprentice's hand and throwing it against a wall if they were displeased about how the the dish was prepared (see Heat, Bill Buford). Friends tell stories of chef-friends showing up pockmarked by burns, or with one hand wrapped in gauze after running a knife through it. The kitchen is a boys' club. There are crude sexist jokes (Heat again). Does a female chef get groped in the walk-in freezer, I wondered. Westerners write about this in books and blogs and talk about it in online message boards but as far as I knew, no Filipino had ever written about his journey into professional cooking.
And so, here I am. Pardon the avalanche of self-importance seemingly emanating from that sentence. It's not the case at all. In the first place, I am not even sure if this career change is going to prove successful. And, I don't even dare to be like others who, having graduated from cookery school and earned a measly year or two of experience, answer their cellphones with “Chef X speaking.” Pardon me, I dare not bandy the title about. What I want to do is chronicle my studies in cookery school and my journeys afterwards and share it with friends in the hope that it becomes entertaining and instructive. As far as I know, no Filipino has ever blogged about their experiences in culinary arts school. I'm not sure if it will inspire others who want to embark on a similar career path, but at the very least, it will be an eye-opener to those who want to enter the industry. I am not being paid or influenced by any commercial interests, so you can trust me to call something for what it truly is.
What do I want for myself? I want to keep writing, of course. I look up to Doreen Fernandez, Gilda Cordero-Fernando, Ruth Reichl, Jan Morris and Pico Iyer (the latter two are strictly not food writers but oh, they still rock!). A formal study of culinary arts would hopefully give me kitchen cred when I write about food and if fate is kind, perhaps someday I might approach even a tiny smidgen of their literary greatness. Wearing my toque, on the other hand, I look up to Sau del Rosario, Gene Gonzales, Gaita Fores, Helene Darroze, Jill Sandique, Jessie Sincioco and Grant Achatz. I pray that a Michelin-starred chef or establishment might deign to take me under their tutelage. In five years, I will probably try to become an industry-certified professional. No, I don't want to be on TV! I do, however, want to open my own place someday, and come out with a book celebrating Philippine cuisine. And I want to cook in France, where the tradition of culinary excellence began.
Ah, such lofty goals. By publicizing them, I run the risk of embarrassing myself if I fall flat on my face. You can hold me up to what I've said but please be kind in the event of failure. However, in case I grow a bloated, celebrity chef-like ego spawned by success, please, all of you who are truly my friends, slap me and bring me back down to earth. In the meantime, I will try to perfect both cooking and writing, and hope that you and I find the whole process both useful and entertaining.
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