Culinary School to Line Cook: Honest Reflections on the Reality of Restaurant Life

This post is part of a mini blog series exploring my culinary school journey. Catch up on the full series here, or revisit Part I and Part II for earlier insights into the culinary world!

Where does one even begin when attempting to encapsulate an entire transformative period of life into a single narrative? This particular reflection, delving into my extensive experience working in a professional restaurant kitchen, stands as arguably the most challenging entry in this mini-series. To truly convey the depth, the highs, and the demanding lows of becoming a full-time line cook, after the structured environment of culinary school, feels like an almost insurmountable task. Yet, it’s a story I’ve long yearned to share, offering a transparent look into the reality of restaurant life.

Having meticulously chronicled every step of my culinary school journey, it only feels right, and indeed necessary, to offer an equally candid account of what transpired next: the pivotal transition from student to a working professional in the bustling heart of a restaurant kitchen. After six intensive months of classroom instruction and hands-on training, my classmates and I were thrust into the crucible of a mandatory paid restaurant externship. While our school termed this period an ‘externship’ – signifying our ongoing student status and the requirement to complete a specific number of hours – the restaurant itself treated me, and I certainly felt, like a full-fledged employee. The distinction between student and professional blurred, almost entirely disappearing, as I stepped onto the line as a true line cook.

The Apprehension of the “Real World” Kitchen Environment

During my time in culinary school, the very idea of the restaurant externship filled me with an almost paralyzing dread. It might sound paradoxical, especially for someone enrolling in culinary arts, but I harbored a strong intuition – even before I started – that the demanding nature of traditional restaurant life might not be my long-term calling. While I recognized its undeniable value as an experience, an essential rite of passage in the culinary world, the looming reality of it still made me profoundly uneasy.

As I progressed through the culinary program, my skills sharpened, and my confidence in the kitchen steadily grew. The initial worries about simply “surviving” the externship gradually dissipated. However, these anxieties were swiftly replaced by a new, more insidious fear: the fear of spending six grueling months in a state of sheer misery. A significant portion of these apprehensions stemmed from pervasive, pre-conceived stereotypes about the restaurant industry – stories of toxic work environments, relentless pressure, and demanding personalities. Our own culinary school instructors, despite being supportive, inadvertently fueled these fears by repeatedly reminding us just how “cushy” culinary school was compared to the unforgiving “real world” of professional kitchens. Adding to this fear was a particularly negative encounter during a restaurant “stage” – essentially a working interview to assess potential interns, which offered an early glimpse into kitchen dynamics.

This specific stage proved to be a stark and unsettling introduction to a darker side of kitchen culture. To recount it briefly, the chef at this establishment had an unfortunate habit of referring to the resident intern with an utterly demeaning nickname: “shithead.” This experience was a shocking and immediate red flag. Unsurprisingly, I did not choose that restaurant for my externship. It underscored the critical importance of finding a kitchen environment that fostered learning and respect, rather than one built on intimidation and ridicule, setting my expectations for what a healthy culinary career could look like.

A Positive & Unexpected Externship Experience

I am genuinely relieved and grateful to report that the restaurant I ultimately chose for my externship defied many of those ingrained industry stereotypes. In a sector often dominated by men, our kitchen proudly boasted a larger number of talented women than men – a remarkable achievement in itself and a beacon for diversity in the culinary field. Instances of cursing, yelling, or aggressive behavior were refreshingly rare, though not entirely absent, as is human nature. Crucially, no one ever resorted to throwing objects, a practice unfortunately associated with certain highly stressed kitchen environments. Furthermore, most weeks, I was scheduled for two days off, occasionally even back-to-back, which, for anyone familiar with the hospitality industry, is an almost unheard-of luxury and a testament to a more humane work-life balance.

Beyond the positive atmosphere, the culinary experience itself was extraordinary. Each day presented the opportunity to work with truly magnificent ingredients, from meticulously sourced seasonal produce to rare delicacies like fresh white truffles (as pictured above). This direct exposure to high-quality ingredients not only elevated my cooking but also deepened my understanding of flavor profiles and ingredient respect, which is paramount for any aspiring chef.

My learning curve soared beyond anything taught in culinary school. I gained invaluable hands-on experience in areas that were either briefly touched upon or entirely absent from the curriculum. I was fortunate enough to rotate through multiple stations – from the intricate precision of the pastry section and the delicate artistry of cold appetizers to the fast-paced coordination of the hot appetizer and pasta station. This broad exposure provided a holistic understanding of kitchen operations. More importantly, I was integrated as a valued member of the team, and my chefs demonstrated a genuine investment in my ongoing education and future career development, offering guidance and opportunities that truly enriched my externship and shaped my culinary skills.

There were countless memorable, even astonishing, experiences during this time that I will cherish forever. Some moments were so surreal, I still find it hard to believe they actually happened. Imagine the pressure of preparing dessert for Hillary Clinton, knowing every detail had to be absolutely perfect for such a distinguished guest. Or the unexpected thrill of having the entire starting lineup of the Lakers basketball team make a late-night, off-menu request for homemade Caesar salad, requiring quick thinking and even quicker execution from the kitchen team. These high-stakes moments were challenging but incredibly exhilarating, showcasing the dynamic and unpredictable nature of a top-tier professional kitchen and the unique experiences a chef can encounter.

On paper, it sounds like an absolutely dream experience for a culinary graduate, doesn’t it?

The Unvarnished Reality: The Gritty Side of Restaurant Life

Now, it’s time to delve into the less glamorous, often difficult, and frankly, sometimes “crappy” aspects of restaurant life that often go unmentioned. My externship began at the end of May 2012, ushering in the brutal reality of summer in a professional kitchen. While culinary school kitchens could get warm, nothing – and I mean absolutely nothing – prepared me for the intense, suffocating heat of a restaurant kitchen in the middle of summer. Picture working 12, sometimes 14, hours straight, in temperatures soaring above 95°F (35°C), without a single moment to sit down or catch a true break. This relentless heat, combined with the physical demands, was truly unpleasant and a constant challenge for a line cook. Even worse, though, were the infamous 13-day work weeks that occasionally materialized – an exhausting marathon that I experienced once, and vowed was one too many. And then there’s the common scenario of being called in on your one precious day off, shattering any hopes of rest or personal time, a common sacrifice in the food service industry.

During those shifts, I was perpetually drenched in sweat. It wasn’t just uncomfortable; it was a constant reminder of the extreme physical toll the job demanded. Despite the relatively “normal” schedule my restaurant offered – a rarity in the industry – I found myself with incredibly little energy on my designated days off. The idea of cooking for pleasure in my limited downtime became almost laughable; in fact, I actively avoided it for the most part, seeking simple, effortless meals instead of elaborate home cooking. The demanding hours also meant my days off often fell during the week, creating a significant disconnect from friends and family who worked conventional 9-to-5 jobs. My partner, Connor, and I frequently operated on entirely opposite schedules, further complicating social interactions and shared downtime, a common struggle for those in the hospitality industry.

While I intellectually understood this going in, the practical reality was that traditional holidays completely lost their meaning. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s Eve – these became some of the busiest, most high-pressure shifts of the year. My respect and admiration for individuals in the hospitality industry who routinely sacrifice personal time and holidays to serve others is immense. They work tirelessly on days when the majority of us are relaxing and enjoying time with loved ones. My appreciation extends even further to restaurants that choose to close on major holidays, prioritizing the well-being of their staff – a truly commendable and progressive stance in a relentlessly demanding field, often overlooked in the pursuit of profits.

The Grinding Pressure and the Ultimate Realization

Ultimately, working in a professional kitchen is undeniably hard work – physically, mentally, and emotionally. And it’s a notoriously underpaid profession for the immense skill, dedication, and sacrifice it demands. It is an incredibly tough, high-pressure environment where mistakes are costly and the pace is relentless. A line cook must possess an almost superhuman ability to juggle and multi-task a myriad of things simultaneously, often amidst controlled chaos. Speed is paramount, precision is non-negotiable, and the ability to thrive on adrenaline is a prerequisite. There’s a constant need to be fearless, to push through discomfort, and to perform under intense scrutiny, night after night, for long hours.

Despite the predominantly positive and incredibly enriching experience I gained during my time at the restaurant, a growing realization began to take root. As the months wore on, it became increasingly clear that while I deeply loved the creative artistry and the intellectual challenge of being in the kitchen – the process of transforming raw ingredients into beautiful, delicious dishes – my heart wasn’t truly committed to the long-haul demands of traditional restaurant life. The intensity, the gruelling hours, the physical toll, and the profound impact on personal life, as rewarding as the culinary craft itself was, ultimately signaled that this particular path might not be my forever journey within the culinary industry.

This profound experience, however, laid a critical foundation, shaping my understanding of food, my skills, and my appreciation for the incredible individuals who dedicate their lives to the culinary arts. It was a journey of self-discovery as much as it was a culinary education, providing clarity on what I sought in a professional life within the broader world of food. The lessons learned, both in skill and in spirit, are indelible, and have significantly influenced my subsequent ventures in food blogging and other culinary pursuits.

Stay tuned for the next installment, where I’ll delve deeper into the aftermath of this experience and what came next on my culinary path, beyond the demanding but invaluable world of the professional kitchen!