Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Chef Jim Shott: In Search of Pastry Precision

Almost by definition, the path from U.S. Marine to French pastry chef cannot be a simple straight line. Not only poles apart, each environment comes with a long list of disparate expectations and demands. Nothing about such a path suggests an easy journey. Nonetheless, Jim Shott took it.

He started down the path about five years ago. After retiring from the Marine Corps in 1992, he continued to work in the addiction-counseling field at the Bethesda Naval Hospital. Then, after the department moved to Andrews Air Force Base, Shott started having flashbacks to his Vietnam combat experiences.

“One of my patients talked about places that I had forgotten about, then one day the sound of a diesel engine and the rotor blade of a chopper set me into an immobilizing depression.” He entered into a VA treatment program and began weekly visits to the Silver Spring, Maryland, Vet Center.

“In the process, it was about two years before I could even consider doing any kind of work,” he said. “I had to resign from my government job.”

As he began to regain his footing, he read an article about a new industry, the personal chef service, in which an entrepreneur might serve as the personal chef for clients who wanted quality food but who lacked time to prepare it. He had always wanted to get into the food service business and even had some experience as a cook.

“I always loved to cook,” Shott said. “My Boy Scout cooking badge came about because my Irish mother taught me how to make a meal. After I got back from Vietnam, I was working at an Officers Club for a while doing short-order cooking on the barbecue. I always loved to do it.”

He investigated a web site offering training in the personal chef association and decided to try it. After signing up with the association, Shott started a company called Dinner’s Ready in 1999.

“It started slow, but then I got clients through word of mouth,” he said. “I didn’t have any money for advertising. Starting a business from scratch is tough. There was a desire to be my own person, though, to be independent, to take risks that were calculated risks. There was a lot of motivation there.”

Wanting to raise the bar, Shott began looking at the art and science of fine pastries. “It’s always intrigued me how those pastry chefs could make such wonderful desserts,” he said.

He decided to enroll in the nine-month Pastry Arts program at L’Academie de Cuisine in Bethesda, Maryland. Shott soon realized he would have to devote all his time to the school; then circumstances forced a setback.

“I injured my right elbow while working,” he said. “Then I started losing clients because I wasn’t able to do the work.”

After several months of physical therapy, Shott’s elbow improved, and he re-enrolled at the pastry school. But another setback awaited him, forcing him to drop out in late 2002. “I needed surgery,” he said. “I couldn’t use my right arm effectively.”

About a year later, Shott enrolled again. It had been a long time since he was in a school setting. He found the challenges formidable. “At age 57, I found the pace was very fast for me,” Shott said. “It was long days on my feet. The main challenge came from the standpoint that I had to learn to be a student all over again.”

His PTSD added another level of difficulty.

“I have trouble remembering things on a short-term basis,” he said. “I do it a few times and I get it down okay, but studying for exams was difficult. I knew the material, but translating it to taking a test was a real problem. I did well with the practical experience, and I got very good grades on projects and presentations. My senior instructor understood and encouraged me.”

The teaching method of the school’s founder made it even more difficult. He wanted his students to learn the way he had learned, and his way included no handouts of recipes and no textbooks in the routine. He dictated the recipes to students. They wrote them down, in effect, creating a technical manual in their own words.

“Writing down the recipes was tough,” Shott said. “We had a three-ring binder we had to turn in every five weeks for a grade on the material and the techniques and descriptions. It became our own textbook, if you will. It was our own way of note keeping so it made sense to us. That’s how the founder learned in France. You wrote the recipe, you wrote the technique, you wrote the little side notes on why you do certain things and why you do it at a certain pace.”

Before he began, when he had wondered about how pastry chefs created desserts, he had not known about the most basic differences in the creation of food that often did double-duty as art.

“What I like about the pastry field is the exactness,” he said. “The ingredients are all weighed on a baker’s scale. Commonly, textbooks call for half a cup of this and one teaspoon of that. When we do recipes, it’s ten ounces of flour, two ounces of water. Everything is measured precisely.”

Jim Shott has graduated now and has a three-tiered goal. He wants to open a commercial kitchen; he wants to concentrate on pastries; and he hopes to offer services to local businesses for meetings and special events. The third element will fulfill a sense of giving back.

“I want the commercial kitchen to be a teaching kitchen in which I can offer classes,” he said. “The prospect of the future with this business is exciting for me. I would like to have a site where veterans could come to learn.”

Shott is developing a corporate catering element called Creative Cuisine. He’s working in Gaithersburg, Maryland, as a pastry chef for the Classic German Bakery.

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