A Frustrated Transsexual Chef

Well, I believe I am a chef.  I ran my family's pastry shop and cafe before coming to the  US to escape from my conservative culture.  I planned and executed everything in the kitchen from menu and preparation to purchasing and inventory to quality and sanitation.  I worked as a chef for over ten years, but I was called "owner".   Am I a chef in your definition?  I wore a chef coat, an apron, and a skull cap under the tutelage of my uncle who was a chef in Switzerland and Dubai before he came home.  I cooked Spanish, Malay, and Chinese-influenced local dishes made expensive and contemporary. 

  

When I came to the US to pursue my dream of becoming a novelist and yes, to escape, I became homeless in the country I thought would give me plenty of opportunities. I could not even find a job as a cook.  I turned my back from food and focused my energy on words.  I sold poetry to strangers in the streets, my way of begging since I cannot play guitar and sing, a very different experience to the old days when I sold seafood paella, fresh shrimp rolls, and pork blood stew to our loyal customers.

 

I stayed in the streets for almost half a decade.  I became immune to the nasty, unappetizing food of church lunches and soup kitchens.  I had no time thinking of gourmet and about food safety when surviving and a chapter of my novel preoccupied me.  Yes, I was young and on welfare then, so everything was an adventure.

 

One afternoon two years ago, a culinary student absentmindedly left his books that still had price tags on them at the bus stop where I usually took my after-lunch nap.  Cream soups prepared for the homeless were just too heavy for my stomach and made me feel lazy after gulping them in plastic cups.  I waited for the student to come back, but he never did.  Maybe he assumed he would never have them back since the bus stop was just across from a culinary school and a culinary student must have found and taken his books home.

 

The entire afternoon, I speed-read both books-- "A Day at elBulli" and "Alinea".  I still have them with me. Not satisfied, I went to the local library nearby and borrowed more books.  Everything by Thomas Keller, Heston Blumenthal, and Herve This the library carried, I borrowed them.   Unfortunately, they were not that many.  I read them all for a couple of days in the shelter where I was staying.  Usually, we were not allowed to stay during the day, but I begged them to allow me to stay put for a couple of days because the books were too heavy to carry around.  I fell in love with cooking and food again.

 

The following day I went to the culinary school across from the bus stop to inquire about their culinary arts program.  Right there and then, I registered.  The program was run by the community college near our homeless shelter in Orange County, California.  I did not have to pay anything.  My decision to go back to culinary arts changed my life.  I left the streets.  I now have an apartment, a kitchen, and a fridge.   

 

 

Although the program was disappointing, I continued.  I was so focused.   The chef instructor who made us cook and serve meatball spaghetti, french fries, and a cob of sweet corn in the school cafe did not discourage me.  I took some leftovers home to experiment.   I dehydrated them all to make spaghetti powder, french fries thickener, and corn chips, my very first foray in experimental cooking.  I could not afford those chemical-sounding powders that tickled my mind.  

 

I finished the program but internship because I could not find the right place to intern. It was no rocket science, so I got A's in all courses I took.  I have been looking for an internship or an entry-level position in a restaurant that does molecular cooking or innovative culinary techniques.  I sent e-mails and applied, but, so far, I have gotten nothing but silence and rejections. 

 

 

It could not be my experience or education or desire to become a chef in the US.  I was already a chef in my country who did stuff my mother and my grandmother could do. I want to be a different kind of chef, the one who does not only cook food but think about cooking food.  I now want to become a chef who does molecular cooking, a mindful cooking that changes shapes and textures so slimy and nasty-looking food will look presentable and palatable.  I do not want to do it just to impress.  I want to make it functional and necessary.  So far, it has been frustrating.  I just cannot find a place  to pursue the culinary career  I want.

 

I wonder if it is due to my being frank and upfront with my gender identity, the very reason why I left home.  I was interviewed before for an eight-dollar cook position in an Asian fusion restaurant only to be told that they already hired someone.  I could cook Asian stuff, yet I was not given a chance.  It was not even my looks but my honesty; I did not and do not look like a drag queen

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I always say without hesitation that I am a transsexual who has no intention of making what I am an issue.  I want to be honest right off the bat so I will not be accused of deception.  So far, it has not worked.  Even if I will be called a "faggot" in the kitchen, I will not complain.  It seems to me that is not enough to assure them that I am not a business risk.  I will not sue even if  I will be tormented in the kitchen daily.  I will be more challenged to do better things, excel, and be an asset.  Again, nobody has listened.

 

I just want to start somewhere where my culinary skills and interests will be appreciated, encouraged, and positively reinforced.  I talk more about transglutaminase and calcium gluconolactate than Madonna and Vogue.  I am more interested in checking out how to make fruit or vegetable spheres within spheres to make a salad than Lady Gaga's bizarre costumes.  Mozarella balloon filled with tomato espuma coated with green basil olive oil with balsamic vinegar caviar is more interesting to me than the Summer collection of Christian Dior.  Stuff in my bag do not include makeup, fake nails, wigs, and stockings.  Yes, I have a stainless steel tweezer, but it is not for my eyebrows.  

 

Do you think I still have a chance to pursue my dream?  Do you think transsexuals chefs have no place in the kitchen?  I wish the world measures what I can do  not what I am.    

Edited by TransChef - 2/25/11 at 4:00pm

hehehe, Gunnar. I always preempted my interviewer before (s)he gets shocked upon learning my old gender and name after checking my Social Security records or accuses me of withholding information. When I used to hire kitchen workers before, an applicant's honesty was a plus. To me, it meant I did not have to wonder all the time where some steaks went. I wish there's a generic way of hiring like asking applicants to do all mother sauces or to cook eggs in ten different ways besides fried, poached, and boiled.

I have been a transsexual since I was 12. I immigrated to the US also because I could change my name and gender which was impossible to obtain in my country. My first day at the culinary school I attended, I told all my instructors that I am a transsexual- its definition is on wikipedia-- the only defense I could think so I would not feel hiding something all the time. I find a good food tweezer or tong useful in plating, especially in handling those microgreens that keep falling. Thank you, guys, for the responses. They are definitely helping me check my self-esteem and confidence.