I Should Have Been a Chef by Judy Alter
Mysteries, historical fiction—I’m proud of all the books I’ve published but somewhere along the line I missed my true calling. I should have been a chef. When I was in my late fifties, I had this epiphany that I wanted to go to a culinary school. A little research convinced me I was too old and decrepit for the tough physical demands of the cooking life. My feet and hips were already falling apart, and who knew how long my knees would hold out? Reluctantly I gave up that dream. I learned to cook almost literally at my mom’s knee. At a young age, I was making peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies. Once when a girlfriend and I were cooking something—who knows what?—a childless friend of Mom’s came by. The kitchen was a mess; I hadn’t learned yet the art of cleaning up as I go, which is now almost a religious practice with me. The friend asked Mom quietly, “How can you let them make such a mess?” And Mom said, “If I don’t, they’ll never learn to cook.” Another time I made a ...