Hello and welcome to Day 18 of Culinary School.

Today we cooked what might be the most satisfying plate of food on planet Earth: Pomme Frites or should I say…Bomb Frites with Steak and Béarnaise Sauce.

That’s right, crispy golden fries, perfectly seared steak, and a buttery, herby sauce that makes you question every condiment you’ve ever used.

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The Frites (aka Fancy Chips)

Started with potatoes, cut thick, chunky, and glorious.

Gave them a soak in vinegar and water for about 15 minutes (that little acid bath helps them crisp up later).

Then it’s a two-step fry:

• First fry: 300°F, just enough to cook the inside.

• Freeze for 20 minutes to firm them up.

• Second fry: 375°F, till they’re golden, crispy, and pure joy.

I swear, when those fries came out of the oil, I nearly clapped. They looked that good.

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The Sauce of the Gods

While the potatoes chilled, I started the Béarnaise reduction, shallots, white wine, white wine vinegar, and fresh tarragon.
Let it simmer down until it smelled like fine dining.

Then came the hollandaise base: whisked egg yolks, clarified butter, and the reduction folded in at the end.
Creamy, glossy, tangy, buttery perfection.
One of those sauces that makes you want to pour it on everything, fries, steak, toast, your tax return, whatever.

The Steak

New York strip, seasoned simply, seared hot.
The first side hit the pan with that beautiful sizzle, and when I flipped it… chef’s kiss.
Proper char marks, nice crust, still juicy inside.

When Chef Cameron cut into it, he nodded and said,

“Still got a bit of red — you’re in the safe zone.”

We’ll take that being that the steak was pretty thin to begin with.

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The Plating Chat

I plated my fries under the steak, mostly because I thought it looked cool.
Chef pointed out that doing it that way “dictates how the diner eats it.”
Fair point, apparently, people don’t like having to perform engineering to get to their chips.

Still, it looked good. Fries soaking up the steak juice and Béarnaise sauce? That’s a win in my book.

The Final Plate

Golden frites. Juicy steak. A ladle of silky Béarnaise.
Simple, indulgent, and properly satisfying.

Chef Cameron had a bite and said,

“Good sauce. Nice doneness. Lovely work.”

That’s basically culinary school code for fucking nailed it.

Cheers

Andy

Support the Journey

Every time someone follows me (Instagram, TikTok, Substack, or YouTube) I donate to the Central Texas Food Bank.

The more people follow, the more I give.

1¢ per follower up to 25,000
5¢ per follower from 25,001–150,000
10¢ per follower after that
Capped at $10,000 (for now 👀)

You follow. I donate. We feed people. Easy.

Donate to Central Tecas Foodbank

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📰 Substack: theandrewcairns.substack.com
🌐 Website: www.theandrewcairns.com

Cheers,
Andy

Hello and welcome to Day 17 of Culinary School.

Today was Field Trip Day, which already meant it was going to be a good one, no dishes to scrub, no onions to dice.

We headed to Via 313 Pizza, a proper Austin success story serving Detroit-style pizza, that thick, square-cut, caramelised-crust beauty that makes you forget how to count calories.

They’ve gone from a single trailer to multiple restaurants across Texas and a few other states. Absolute legends.

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The Kitchen Tour

Their kitchen was the complete opposite of last week’s massive prep space.
Tight, efficient, everything with its place. Four pizza ovens lined up like soldiers, dough trays everywhere, and the smell.

Cheese, butter, and tomato all mixing in the air like perfume for hungry people.

It’s amazing what they pull off in such a compact space. You can feel the rhythm of the place, every cook moving with purpose, like a pizza-powered orchestra.

The Feast

We started with Brussels sprouts and Caesar salad. Delicious!!!

Then came the meatballs, rich and saucy and exactly what you want from Italian comfort food.

And then the star: The Brazilian Bobo pizza, topped with Mike’s Hot Honey.
That sweet-heat drizzle over the cheesy, crunchy-edged Detroit dough? Unreal.
It’s one of those bites that makes you go quiet mid-chew because your brain’s too busy celebrating.

Final Thoughts

Huge thanks to Brandon and all the crew at Via 313 for having us, absolute pros, passionate about what they do, and turning out some of the best pizza in Texas (and maybe anywhere).

I’ll be dreaming about that hot honey for weeks.

Cheers

Andy

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Support the Journey

Every time someone follows me (Instagram, TikTok, Substack, or YouTube) I donate to the Central Texas Food Bank.

The more people follow, the more I give.

1¢ per follower up to 25,000
5¢ per follower from 25,001–150,000
10¢ per follower after that
Capped at $10,000 (for now 👀)

You follow. I donate. We feed people. Easy.

Donate to Central Texas Food Bank

Follow the Journey

📸 Instagram: @theandrewcairns
🎥 YouTube: @theandrewcairns
🎵 TikTok: @theandrewcairns
📰 Substack: theandrewcairns.substack.com
🌐 Website: www.theandrewcairns.com

Hello and welcome to Day 16 of Culinary School.

Today was lentil shakshuka, which, if you’ve never had it, is basically eggs poached in a spiced tomato and veggie stew. It sounds fancy, tastes incredible, and makes your kitchen smell like Morocco and the Mediterranean got together and had a baby.

I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure at first. Lentils don’t exactly scream “Excitement.” But once everything started cooking, I knew this one was going to be good.

The Chop Parade

Started with a chopping marathon, red peppers, poblanos, eggplant, zucchini, onions, garlic, thyme, chives, parsley.

Basically, if it grew out of the ground, I chopped it.

All those knife skills are starting to pay off, I wasn’t terrified of the onion this time. Progress.

Building the Base

Got the pan hot, oil in, onions first till they softened.
Then in went the peppers, the zucchini, the eggplant.
The smell hit right away, that mix of sweetness from the peppers and that earthy kick from the eggplant.

Added the garlic till it went aromatic (which is chef-speak for “holy fuckl, that smells amazing”).

Then came the fire-roasted tomatoes, the kind that actually taste like someone cared, plus the lentils, cayenne, paprika, salt, pepper, and a ladle or two of stock to loosen it up.

Covered it up, let it bubble away till the lentils softened and the sauce thickened.

Already looked good. Already smelled better.

Eggs, Feta, and a Bit of Lemon Magic

For plating, I used a smaller pan, cracked a couple of eggs right into the sauce, threw in a handful of feta, and finished it with lemon juice, zest, and fresh parsley.

The feta melted into the sauce, the eggs poached perfectly, and that lemon zest just punched it up to another level.
It looked sexy, it tasted spicy, salty, lemony, absolute belter of a dish.

The Finished Dish

The sauce was rich but not heavy, the lentils gave it that hearty bite, and the egg yolk tied it all together.
This was one of those dishes that makes you stop halfway through a bite and just nod.

If you’re looking for a vegetarian meal that actually feels satisfying, this is the one.
It’s bold, filling, and packed with layers of flavour that keep changing as you eat.

Lentil Shackshuka

Ingredients:

• 2–3 tbsp olive oil

• 1 onion, diced

• 1 poblano pepper, diced

• 1 bell pepper (any color), medium diced

• 3 cloves garlic, minced

• 1 small zucchini, diced

• ½ small eggplant, diced small

• 1 (28 oz) can fire-roasted crushed tomatoes

• 2 ladles (~½–¾ cup) chicken stock or vegetable stock

• 1 cup dry red lentils (rinsed)

• 1 tsp ground cumin (or to taste)

• 1 tsp smoked or sweet paprika (or to taste)

• ¼–½ tsp cayenne pepper (optional, to taste)

• Salt & freshly ground black pepper, to taste

• 2 large eggs

• 1 cup crumbled feta cheese

• 2 tbsp fresh parsley, chopped

• 1 tbsp fresh chives, chopped

• 1 tsp fresh thyme, chopped

Instructions:

1. Build the Flavor Base

• In a large, deep skillet or sauté pan, heat olive oil over medium heat.

• Add onion and sauté until softened, 3–4 minutes.

• Stir in the poblano and bell pepper, and cook for another 2–3 minutes.

• Add eggplant and zucchini, and cook until just tender, about 5–6 minutes.

2. Garlic & Spices

• Add minced garlic and cook for 30 seconds until fragrant.

• Stir in cumin, paprika, and cayenne pepper to taste.

3. Tomato & Stock

• Pour in the crushed fire-roasted tomatoes and 2 ladles of chicken stock.

• Add thyme, salt, and black pepper.

• Bring to a simmer.

4. Add the Lentils

• Stir in the red lentils, ensuring they’re evenly distributed.

• Cover the pan and simmer gently over medium-low heat for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking.

5. Finish the Base

• Once the lentils are tender but still holding shape, stir in parsley, chives, and feta cheese.

• Taste and adjust seasoning.

6. Poach the Eggs

• Using the back of a spoon, create 2 small wells (divots) in the sauce.

• Crack an egg into each divot.

• Cover the pan and let simmer for 5 minutes, or until egg whites are set but yolks are still slightly runny.

Serve:

• Spoon into shallow bowls, making sure each serving gets sauce, lentils, veggies, and an egg.

• Garnish with extra herbs, feta, and cracked black pepper.

• Serve with warm pita, flatbread, or crusty bread.

Tips:

• Want it vegan? Skip the eggs and feta, the lentils and veggies still carry big flavor.

• Add chickpeas or spinach for variation.

• Store leftovers (minus eggs) in the fridge for up to 4 days.

Final Thoughts

This one caught me off guard, comforting, colourful, and ridiculously good.
Spicy, creamy, lemony, and hearty all at once.
And with that Double Runny Poached Egg rating… safe to say I nailed it.

Cheers

Andy

Support the Journey

Every time someone follows me (Instagram, TikTok, Substack, or YouTube) I donate to the Central Texas Food Bank.

The more people follow, the more I give.

1¢ per follower up to 25,000
5¢ per follower from 25,001–150,000
10¢ per follower after that
Capped at $10,000 (for now 👀)

You follow. I donate. We feed people. Easy.

Donate to Central Texas Food Bank

Follow the Journey

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🎥 YouTube: @theandrewcairns
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🌐 Website: www.theandrewcairns.com

Welcome to Day 15 of Culinary School.

Today was kitchen internship day, which basically means: big pots, big quantities, and zero chance of keeping your apron clean.

We were cooking for the homeless and the community in need, a few hundred meals to start, eventually part of the 2,000 they send out every single day.

It’s organised chaos in the best way possible.

Sausages, Peppers, and… a Paddle?

I got put on sausage, onions, peppers, chicken, the works.
I thought, aye, easy enough. Grab a spatula, get it sizzling.

Then the chef handed me a paddle.
Like, an actual metal paddle.

I looked at him and said,

“What is this for? Steering the sausages downstream?”

He laughed. I didn’t. Until five minutes later when I realised that thing was absolutely necessary.

More sausage went in.
Then more onions.
Then more peppers.
Then chicken.
Then more sausage again.
By the end, I was stirring a pot the size of a small hot tub, sweat dripping, steam everywhere, feeling like the world’s least-coordinated pirate.

Feed the City

Once the sausages were cooked down, we loaded everything into hotel trays to chill overnight.
Tomorrow, volunteers portion it all out, box it, and send it across Austin.

Then we made grits, massive, creamy vats of the stuff. I don’t like them personally, but Texas love them, must be the vast quantities of butter.

After lunch, we helped package five or six hundred meals, ready to ship out.
Seeing tray after tray lined up, ready to feed actual people, was a bit mental.

It’s a proper operation. Efficient, fast, and full of people who give a damn.

What a Day

There’s nothing glamorous about stirring sausage with a paddle or scooping grits into trays, but it’s bloody satisfying.

Everyone’s joking, moving, shouting orders, trying not to burn anything.

It’s chaos, but the good kind. The kind where you end up smiling at the end because it worked.

And aye, next time someone hands me a paddle in the kitchen, I’ll say thank you and get to work, and probably make another joke.

There’s something different about cooking for people in need. You can feel it. When you’re stirring that pot or seasoning a tray, it’s not just about getting food out, it’s about putting something good into it.

I don’t know the science behind it, but I swear food carries energy. When you cook with care and good intent, folk can taste it. There’s love in it. There’s warmth. And somehow, even if they never see your face, they feel it. I can’t explain it, but I know it in my bones every time I cook for others and I fucking love it!

Cheers

Andy

Support the Journey

Every time someone follows me (Instagram, TikTok, Substack, or YouTube) I donate to the Central Texas Food Bank.

The more people follow, the more I give.

1¢ per follower up to 25,000
5¢ per follower from 25,001–150,000
10¢ per follower after that
Capped at $10,000 (for now 👀)

You follow. I donate. We feed people. Easy.

Donate to Central Texas Food Bank

Follow the Journey

📸 Instagram: @theandrewcairns
🎥 YouTube: @theandrewcairns
🎵 TikTok: @theandrewcairns
📰 Substack: theandrewcairns.substack.com
🌐 Website: www.theandrewcairns.com

Today was a day I was not looking forward to.
Fucking green vegetables.
They’ve always been shite, boiled to death, squeaky, flavourless, the sort of thing your mum made you choke down before pudding.

But I promised myself I’d keep an open mind.
And holy fucking hell… my mind was blown.

If you’d told me a few weeks ago that one of my biggest “holy-shit” moments would involve asparagus, I’d have laughed, and called you fucking daft.
But here we are.

Because, when you blanch asparagus properly, it’s not just good — it’s life changing.

The Line-Up

Grilled Romaine with Green Goddess Dressing
Blanched and Sautéed Asparagus with Beurre Blanc

Two dishes that sounded like punishment for people who hate joy, and turned out to be two of the best things I’ve eaten in weeks.

Two dishes. Zero meat. 100% joy.

Prep Work

Started the day by trimming the asparagus.

Chef showed us a neat wee trick, snap one spear where it naturally breaks, then use that as your template. Every one’s perfect after that. No fucking about in this kitchen, snapping each one individually.

Halved and quartered the romaine, picked off the tired leaves, diced an onion for the beurre blanc, and got the water roaring for blanching.

Asparagus: The Glow-Up

It started with blanching.

Boiling, heavily-salted water. Drop the asparagus in for exactly one minute.

That’s it.

One minute to change everything I thought I knew about veg.

Here’s the science bit:

• The boiling water shocks the chlorophyll alive, locking in that wild, electric green.

• The heat disables the enzymes that normally turn it grey and floppy.

• The cell walls relax just enough to go tender without turning to mush.

Then straight into an ice bath, is like the kitchen version of APD shouting “FREEZE” it stops the cooking cold.
The result? Snappy, sweet, vibrant asparagus that actually tastes fresh.
Like the difference between instant coffee and a barista-made flat white.

I took one bite and muttered, “Well, fuck me… that’s incredible, thats what Asparagus is supposed to taste like?!?.”

Fire + Butter = Glory

But we weren’t done.
We took that perfect asparagus and threw it into a ripping-hot pan.
Oil shimmering, butter hissing, flames licking up the sides.
The char added smoke, the butter added nuttiness, and suddenly the asparagus tasted meaty.
A vegetable… tasting meaty.

What a time to be alive.

Then came the beurre blanc, a glossy, buttery white-wine sauce built slow and low until it turns silky and luxurious. Spoon that over the fired-up asparagus and you’ve got layers of flavour that just keep climbing.

Sweet + smoky + buttery + bright = utter perfection.

And Then… Lettuce

I’ll be honest.
I rolled my eyes when Chef said “Now we grill the lettuce.”
Lettuce. On a grill.
Sounds like nonsense.

But good grief.
The edges went smoky and crisp, the middle stayed cool and juicy, and then we drizzled on that Green Goddess dressing, creamy, herby, lemony, a whisper of anchovy that ties it all together.

It wasn’t rabbit food.
It was proper food, rich, savoury, and deeply satisfying.
I’d eat it again tomorrow. Maybe even crave it.

Chef’s Verdict

“Nicely seasoned. Al dente but tender. Great char. Good drizzle. You fucking worked for it.”

I’ll take that.

The Revelation

Sometimes it’s not the big recipes that stick with you.
It’s the moment you taste something simple done right and it blows your mind.
Blanched asparagus. Charred romaine. Green Goddess drizzle.
Nothing fancy, just respect for the ingredients and a wee bit of fire.

I’ll be honest, today might have been the first time I felt like a real chef. The day I actually tasted how something is supposed to taste. My mind is blow and my eyes are open.

Cheers

Andy

Support the Journey

Every time someone follows me (Instagram, TikTok, Substack, or YouTube)

I donate to the Central Texas Food Bank.

The more people follow, the more I give.

1¢ per follower up to 25 000
5¢ per follower from 25 001 – 150 000
10¢ per follower after that
Capped at $10 000 (for now 👀)

You follow. I donate. We feed people. Easy.

Donate to Central Texas Food Bank

Follow the Journey

📸 Instagram: @theandrewcairns
🎥 YouTube: @theandrewcairns
🎵 TikTok: @theandrewcairns
📰 Substack: theandrewcairns.substack.com
🌐 Website: www.theandrewcairns.com

At its core, every classic sauce is made up of three key components:

1. The Thickener

This gives the sauce body and texture, turning it from a flavored liquid into a luscious, smooth coating. Common thickeners include:

• Roux (equal parts flour and fat, cooked to varying levels: white, blonde, or brown)

• Beurre manié (a kneaded mix of butter and flour)

• Egg yolks (for emulsified sauces like hollandaise or custard-style sauces)

• Cornstarch or arrowroot slurry

• Reduction (concentrating by simmering without a thickening agent)

• Purees (like beans or vegetables in modern sauces)

2. The Flavor Base

This is the soul of the sauce. It can come from:

• Mirepoix (onions, carrots, and celery, classic for stocks and brown sauces)

• Garlic, herbs, spices (thyme, bay leaf, rosemary, peppercorns)

• Roasted bones or vegetables (for depth in brown sauces)

• Aromatics like shallots, leeks, or infused oils

• Tomato paste or wine for added richness or acidity

3. The Liquid

This forms the bulk of the sauce and carries the flavor. Typical liquids include:

• Water (used in stocks and reductions)

• Stock or broth (chicken, beef, veal, vegetable, fish)

• Milk or cream (for white sauces like béchamel)

• Wine, vinegar, or juice (for brightness or acidity)

• Tomato purée or crushed tomatoes (in tomato-based sauces)

Bonus Tips:

• Balance is key: The best sauces balance richness, acidity, and seasoning.

• Season in stages: Add salt and acid gradually, it’s easier to add than fix.

• Strain for elegance: A fine mesh strainer or chinois makes your sauce restaurant-smooth.

• Mount with butter: A swirl of cold butter at the end gives shine and silkiness.

Day 13 – From Aubergine to Eggplant

Hello and welcome to Day 13 of Culinary School.

This week’s all about vegetables, which, to be honest, sounded like a bit of a comedown after smoking hogs and tasting sausages at Banger’s yesterday. But turns out, vegetables can be just as bold and beautiful, which is a big statement coming from me, since I fucking hate veggies… unless they are root vegtables and crispy, or mashed.

Today, I made something I’d never even heard of before: a Vegetable Napoleon.
And before you ask, no, it’s not a tiny French bloke made out of aubergine or eggplant for the Americans.

It’s a beautiful, layered tower of grilled vegetables, basil, mozzarella, and tomato, simple, elegant, and packed with flavor when you give it the care it deserves.

The Process

I started by slicing eggplant, zucchini, squash, and tomatoes.
Salted the eggplant to draw out the bitterness, then brushed everything with olive oil until they glistened like they were ready for a photoshoot.

Onto the grill they went, that’s where the magic happened. The hiss of the oil, the smell of the smoke, those char marks forming slowly, there’s something grounding about standing over a grill, just watching nature transform under fire.

Then came the layering, eggplant at the bottom, a slice of tomato, a bit of fresh mozzarella, a leaf or two of basil, and then zucchini and squash on top.
Three layers high, like a wee edible skyscraper of color and love.

Into the oven for ten minutes, just long enough for the mozzarella to melt and everything to settle together into one perfect bite.

The Chef’s Reaction

Chef tasted it and smiled. Said the flavour was great, seasoning spot-on, garlic a touch bold (fair, I’m Scottish, we don’t do subtle or a whole lot of flavour so ill take both as a win).
He said it looked beautiful, tender, and easy to cut. I’ll take that any day.

Ended up scoring 100 % for taste, execution, and appearance. But honestly, that number wasn’t what mattered.

But honestly, that wasn’t the best part.

The best part was realising how far I’ve come, from the guy who used to serve unwashed potatoes back in the day, to standing in a kitchen crafting something beautiful and balanced out of a handful of vegetables and a bit of patience and these veggies were absolutely beautiful.

The Recipe

If you fancy giving it a go, here’s the recipe I made up in class.
It’s simple, healthy, and ridiculously satisfying, proof that sometimes the best meals are the ones that don’t try too hard.

Vegetable Napoleons with Mozzarella & Basil

Ingredients:

• 1 ripe tomato, sliced into rounds

• ½ eggplant, sliced into ½-inch rounds or planks

• ½ zucchini, sliced lengthwise into planks

• ½ yellow squash, sliced lengthwise into planks

• 1 fresh mozzarella ball, sliced into rounds

• 12 fresh basil leaves (about 3 leaves per layer)

• Olive oil, as needed

• Salt & pepper, to taste

• Balsamic glaze, for drizzling

Instructions:

1. Preheat and Prep

• Preheat grill or grill pan to medium-high.

• Preheat oven to 400°F (200°C).

2. Prepare the Eggplant

• Slice eggplant and place on a tray. Sprinkle generously with salt and let sit for 10 minutes to draw out bitterness.

• Rinse under cool water and pat dry thoroughly with paper towels.

3. Season & Oil the Veggies

• Brush both sides of the eggplant, zucchini, and squash planks with olive oil.

• Season with salt and pepper.

4. Grill the Vegetables

• Grill each vegetable slice for 2–3 minutes per side, until tender with nice grill marks.

• Set aside on a tray for stacking.

5. Assemble the Napoleons

Layer in this order (from bottom up), stacking 2–3 high per Napoleon:

• Eggplant

• Basil leaves

• Mozzarella round

• Tomato slice

• Zucchini or squash plank

• Repeat if desired, finishing with tomato or squash on top

6. Bake to Melt

• Place stacks carefully on a baking sheet.

• Bake in preheated oven at 400°F for 5–7 minutes, or just until the cheese begins to melt.

7. Finish and Serve

• Drizzle with balsamic glaze and a touch of olive oil.

• Garnish with extra basil if desired.

Optional Add-Ons:

• Add a layer of pesto between the mozzarella and tomato for a flavor boost

• Serve over arugula for a fresh salad-like presentation

• Sprinkle with toasted pine nuts or crushed walnuts for crunch

I used to think cooking was about recipes.
Now I’m learning it’s about rhythm.
Salt, fire, patience, and a bit of love, every time.

Support the Journey

Every time someone follows me (Instagram, TikTok, Substack, or YouTube) I donate to the Central Texas Food Bank.

But here’s the twist:
The more people follow, the more I have to give.

1¢ per follower up to 25,000
5¢ per follower from 25,001 – 150,000
10¢ per follower after that
Capped at $10,000 (for now 👀)

So the faster we grow, the more I donate, and the sooner we hit $10K in meals for families across Central Texas.

You follow. I donate. We feed people. Easy.

Because food should bring people together, not leave anyone hungry.

You can also donate directly to the Central Texas Food Bank.
Every dollar helps put real meals on real tables.

Donate to Central Texas Food Bank

Follow the Journey

📸 Instagram: @theandrewcairns
🎥 YouTube: @theandrewcairns
🎵 TikTok: @theandrewcairns
📰 Substack: theandrewcairns.substack.com
🌐 Website: www.theandrewcairns.com

Day 12 - Field Trip to Bangers in Austin

Today wasnae a normal day at culinary school, no chopping onions or sweating over a hot line.
No, today we piled into Banger’s Sausage House & Beer Garden on Rainey Street in downtown Austin.

What a fuckin’ place.

The Arrival

We met Chef Albert, the head honcho at Banger’s, cool, calm, knowledgeable as fuck, confident, and clearly running a world-class operation without any of the pretentious chef nonsense. The man’s got that authority that tells you everything’s under control, even with 350 seats, 200 taps, and a smokehouse full of pork behind him.

The first thing you notice walking in is the sheer scale of the place. It’s a bloody cathedral of sausages and beer. The tap walls stretch like a runway, lined with over 200 craft beers on draft. Turns out, they’re one of the biggest draft beer programs in the entire United States, and honestly, I believe it.

Behind the Scenes

Chef Albert took us through every bit of it, the taproom, the prep kitchens, the smokehouse, the sausage room, even the hanging room where they had a whole hog waiting for the weekend roast. A full pig, head to tail, ready to hit the smoker on Saturday. Absolute art.

They do this once a week, plus racks of ribs, chickens, prime rib, sausages, you name it. And it’s not some fancy gimmick; it’s old-school craftsmanship. They’ve even built the smokehouse themselves, right there on site.

Then there’s the production setup, three full kitchens, each one spotless and humming even before service. You can tell the team actually gives a shit.

And get this, 95 percent of everything they serve is made from scratch. None of that half-arsed “locally sourced” marketing spin. We watched the team making sausages by hand, grinding, mixing, stuffing, just pure graft and pride in what they do.

The Food

We got the full tasting treatment at the end.
And holy fuck.

Jalapeño cheddar sausages with just the right kick, smoky, spicy, and bloody perfect.
Fries cooked twice for that proper crunch, the kind that’d make you question every chip you’ve ever eaten.
Poutine that honestly… might be the best I’ve had, full stop. Canada included.
Tri-tip sandwiches dripping with juice, messy, glorious, and worth every napkin.
And those andouille balls, aye, the name got a laugh, but once you bite in, you’re too busy chewing to joke.

And here’s the part that really stuck with me, Banger’s picked up the tab for the whole lot. Every single one of us.

There was a moment, sitting there, when one of the students asked if they had anything under $10. And it hit me, some of these folks might not have had a proper meal all week, other than what we cook and eat together at school.

That puts things into perspective.

Banger’s didn’t just feed us, they showed generosity and love in action. No fuss, no fanfare, just good people doing something kind because they could.

What an unreal place. Thank you, Chef Albert, and everyone at Banger’s, for reminding us what hospitality really means.

The Place Itself

Banger’s is everything Austin does best, big flavour, big heart, and no bullshit.
Live music, communal picnic tables, beer for days, and a kitchen crew that runs like a well-oiled machine.

It’s the kind of spot that makes you proud to see hospitality done right. The staff all smiling, guests chatting like old pals, pints clinking everywhere. You can feel the love of the craft, from the pit smoke rolling out back to the last bite of sausage on your plate.

Chef Albert, if you’re reading this, hats off, mate. You’ve built something fucking brilliant. A proper Austin icon.

Cheers

Andy

Support the Journey

Every time someone follows me (Instagram, TikTok, Substack, or YouTube) I donate to the Central Texas Food Bank.

But here’s the twist:
The more people follow, the more I have to give.

1¢ per follower up to 25,000
5¢ per follower from 25,001 – 150,000
10¢ per follower after that
Capped at $10,000 (for now 👀)

So the faster we grow, the more I donate, and the sooner we hit $10 K in meals for families across Central Texas.

You follow. I donate. We feed people. Easy.

Because food should bring people together, not leave anyone hungry.

You can also donate directly to the Central Texas Food Bank.
Every dollar helps put real meals on real tables.

Donate to Central Texas Food Bank

Follow the Journey

📸 Instagram: @theandrewcairns
🎥 YouTube: @theandrewcairns
🎵 TikTok: @theandrewcairns
📰 Substack: theandrewcairns.substack.com
🌐 Website: www.theandrewcairns.com

Hello and welcome to Day 11 of Culinary School.

This week is Starches and Grains, and we kicked things off with something that looks humble but hits right in the soul, creamy polenta with roasted baby tomatoes.

It’s one of those dishes that seems simple on paper, but it’s all about feel.
If you rush it, you’ll ruin it.
If you’re patient, it’ll reward you.

That’s kind of becoming the theme of this whole experience.

Building the Base

We started by finely dicing shallots, mincing garlic, and chopping up some fresh rosemary and thyme.

I melted butter in a saucepan, sweated down the shallots and garlic — no colour, just letting them get soft and fragrant, and then added a good ladle of chicken stock (the same stock we made back in Week 1).

That’s the thing about learning this way, everything connects.
You start seeing how each technique builds on the last.
Stocks feed into sauces, sauces feed into flavour bases, flavour bases become the difference between “good” and wow.

Once the aromatics were ready, I whisked in the polenta, slowly, so it didn’t clump, and added the herbs.
Meanwhile, I’d thrown some baby tomatoes in the oven to roast until they blistered and caramelised.

It’s the easiest thing, but it makes the whole dish sing.
That pop of sweetness against the creamy polenta is magic.

Then came the finishing touches, heavy cream, butter, and Parmesan.
Whisked until smooth and rich and shiny.
Chef Cameron came around to taste it, creamy, rich, herby, well seasoned, and I got another 100% on the scorecard.
We’ll take that.

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Creamy Polenta with Roasted Tomatoes

Serves 4 | Comforting, savoury, and packed with flavour

Ingredients

For the Polenta:
1 cup coarse-ground polenta (or cornmeal)
1 quart (4 cups) chicken stock or white stock
1 cup heavy cream
2 oz (4 tbsp) unsalted butter
1 shallot, minced
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 tsp fresh rosemary, finely chopped
1 tsp fresh thyme, finely chopped
½ cup freshly grated Parmesan (or more, to taste)
Salt, to taste

For the Roasted Tomatoes:
1 pint cherry or grape tomatoes (or any tomatoes chopped into bite-size pieces)
1–2 tbsp olive oil
Salt, to taste
Optional: black pepper, balsamic drizzle, or red pepper flakes for serving

How to Make It

1. Roast the Tomatoes
   Preheat oven to 425°F (220°C).
   Toss tomatoes with olive oil and a pinch of salt.
   Spread on a baking sheet and roast for 20–25 minutes until blistered and caramelised. Set aside.

2. Start the Polenta Base
   In a saucepan, melt 3 tbsp of the butter over medium heat.
   Add the shallot, garlic, rosemary, and thyme.
   Sauté gently for 2–3 minutes until softened and fragrant. Don’t brown them.

3. Add Liquid and Cook the Polenta
   Pour in the quart of chicken stock and bring to a boil.
   Once boiling, slowly whisk in the polenta.
   Reduce the heat to low and cook for 10–15 minutes, whisking often, until it’s thick and creamy but still has a bit of bite.

4. Finish It Off
   Stir in the heavy cream, Parmesan, and the last bit of butter.
   Season with salt to taste.
   If it gets too thick, loosen it with a splash of warm stock or cream.

5. Serve It Up
   Spoon the polenta into bowls, top with the roasted tomatoes, drizzle with olive oil or balsamic if you fancy, and finish with a bit more cheese and herbs.

The Lesson

Polenta is patience in a pot.
It’s not hard, but it demands your attention.

You can’t walk away. You’ve got to whisk, taste, adjust, feel.
It’s not about perfection, it’s about presence.

And that’s the real joy of it.
You start to understand the rhythm of cooking, when to add, when to wait, when to trust your instincts.

Simple food done well feels like a quiet victory.
It’s comfort. It’s focus.
It’s love made visible.

This week we keep going with starches and grains, more pasta, more technique, more chances to learn how the simplest food can teach the biggest lessons.

Cheers

Andy

Leave a comment

Support the Journey

Every time someone follows me (Instagram, TikTok, Substack or YouTube) I donate to the Central Texas Food Bank.

But here’s the twist:
The more people follow, the more I have to give.

1¢ per follower up to 25,000
5¢ per follower from 25,001–150,000
10¢ per follower after that
Capped at $10,000 (for now 👀)

So the faster we grow, the more I donate, and the sooner we hit $10K in meals for families across Central Texas.

Let’s see how fast you can make me hit that $10,000 goal.
You follow. I donate. We feed people. Easy.

Because food should bring people together, not leave anyone hungry.

You can also donate directly to the Central Texas Food Bank.
Every dollar helps put real meals on real tables.

Donate to Central Texas Food Bank

Follow the Journey

📸 Instagram: @theandrewcairns
🎥 YouTube: @theandrewcairns
🎵 TikTok: @theandrewcairns
📰 Substack: theandrewcairns.substack.com
🌐 Website: www.theandrewcairns.com

Subscribe now

Hello and welcome to Day 10 of Culinary School.

Today was a big one, Kitchen Internship day.

Once a week, instead of doing our usual classroom cooking session, we head into the Central Texas Food Bank’s production kitchen and help the full-time chefs prepare, cook, package, and ship meals out to the community.

It’s not a practice day.
It’s not a simulation.
It’s the real thing.

We’re part of a working kitchen that feeds thousands of people across Central Texas, and you feel that from the moment you walk in.

What a Kitchen Internship Is

The culinary program’s split into three parts:

• Cooking Days – We start with a presentation, Chef Cameron explains the topic (stocks, sauces, knife skills, whatever it is), then demonstrates it, and we spend the rest of the day recreating it.

• Kitchen Internship – One day a week, we’re in the Food Bank kitchen, helping cook and package hundreds of meals that go straight out into the community.

• Field Trips – Every week we visit a restaurant or partner site to see how professional kitchens run, it’s a proper look behind the scenes.

Today was Kitchen Internship day.

The Day

We started early, and by mid-morning we had 800 portions of French toast, sausage, and hash browns prepped, cooked, packaged, sealed, and boxed up.
Once those went out, it was straight into round two, 1,000 portions of chicken and biscuits with potatoes and peas.

That’s 1,800 hot meals in one day.

And this isn’t for show.
These trays are going out to real people, families, kids, seniors, anyone who needs a meal that day.

It’s hot. It’s loud. It’s constant movement.
Every time you think you’ve finished something, another tray comes your way.
But it’s all teamwork, no shouting, no panic, just a rhythm of people doing something that matters.

The Feeling

There’s no ego in this kitchen.
There’s no regret or pride in the “look at me” sense.

What you feel is something else, something deeper.

It’s cooking for absolute love.
You pour your heart and soul into the food, knowing that someone you’ll never meet is going to put it into their body for nourishment.

And maybe that meal will be their only one that day, or that week.
You don’t know who it’s for, but you know it matters.

You start thinking differently.
It’s not just about seasoning or plating, it’s about intention.

I can’t explain how it works, but I genuinely believe energy transfers through food.
Everything you put into that pot, your focus, your gratitude, your care, somehow makes it to the person on the other end of the fork.
So I send it all.

Every stir, every tray, every ladle of sauce, I’m sending warmth, good vibes, and love to whoever needs it.

It sounds cheesy, but it’s real.
This is the real meaning of cooking with love.

It’s not a slogan.
It’s not a restaurant tagline.
It’s the quiet pride in providing.
It’s the privilege of feeding people.
It’s the moment you realise food is never “just food.”

What I Learned

Cooking is energy.
It connects us in ways we don’t fully understand.

You can taste effort. You can feel care.
And when food is made with love, it nourishes more than hunger, it restores something deeper.

That’s what I felt today.
Pride, purpose, connection.

1,800 meals, all cooked with intention.
That’s the power of food.

Next week: Pastas and Grains.
I’m looking forward to it, but I know this one’s going to stay with me for a while and I cannot wait for the next Kitchen Internship day.

Cheers

Andy

Support the Journey

Every time someone follows me (Instagram, TikTok, Substack or YouTube) I donate to the Central Texas Food Bank.

But here’s the twist:
The more people follow, the more I have to give.

1¢ per follower up to 25,000
5¢ per follower from 25,001–150,000
10¢ per follower after that
Capped at $10,000 (for now 👀)

So the faster we grow, the more I donate, and the sooner we hit $10K in meals for families across Central Texas.

Let’s see how fast you can make me hit that $10,000 goal.
You follow. I donate. We feed people. Easy.

Because food should bring people together, not leave anyone hungry.

You can also donate directly to the Central Texas Food Bank.
Every dollar helps put real meals on real tables.

Follow the Journey

📸 Instagram: @theandrewcairns
🎥 YouTube: @theandrewcairns
🎵 TikTok: @theandrewcairns
📰 Substack: theandrewcairns.substack.com
🌐 Website: www.theandrewcairns.com

Hello and welcome to Day 9 of Culinary School.

This morning was all about white stock, or chicken stock, and by “all about,” I mean I spent the first hour standing over a giant steaming pot, pretending I wasn’t sweating while giving it a good stir.
Nothing glamorous about it, but there’s something deeply satisfying about working with food in that kind of quantity.
It feels like proper kitchen work, focused, repetitive, a little mindless in the best way.

Then after lunch, we made Espagnole, one of the five mother sauces.
And that’s when the calm of the morning turned into full-blown chaos, bubbling pots, tomato paste sizzling, flour flying everywhere, and me trying a new camera angle mid-mirepoix because, you know, priorities.

Let’s start with the calm.

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🍗 White Chicken Stock

This is the base of so many things, soups, sauces, risottos, and pretty much anything that needs depth without being heavy.
It’s simple, but it teaches you a lot about patience, timing, and not overcomplicating things.

Ingredients:

• 4 lbs chicken bones (backs, necks, wings preferred – avoid fatty skin)

• ½ lb onions, medium diced

• ¼ lb celery, medium diced

• ¼ lb carrots, medium diced

• 3–4 sprigs fresh thyme

• 4–5 sprigs parsley (including stems)

• 2 bay leaves

• 2–3 whole cloves

• 6–8 black peppercorns

• 2–3 cloves garlic, crushed

• Cold water (enough to cover bones by 2–3 inches)

Instructions:

1. Prepare the bones

   • Rinse the chicken bones under cold water to remove any residual blood or impurities.

2. Start the stock

   • Place bones in a large stock pot and cover with cold water by about 2–3 inches.

   • Slowly bring to a simmer over medium heat.

   • As the water heats, skim off any foam or scum that rises to the top to keep the stock clear.

3. Add aromatics

   • Once the stock is simmering, add the diced onions, celery, carrots (your mirepoix), and the herbs and spices (thyme, parsley, bay leaves, cloves, peppercorns, garlic).

4. Simmer gently

   • Simmer for 1 hour uncovered, continuing to skim as needed.

   • Then, cover partially with a lid and simmer on low heat for an additional 3 hours, maintaining a gentle bubble.

5. Strain and cool

   • After 4 hours, remove from heat and strain the stock through a fine mesh strainer or cheesecloth into a clean container.

   • Discard solids.

6. Chill and store

   • Cool the stock quickly by placing the container in an ice bath.

   • Once cool, refrigerate or portion into freezer-safe containers.

Storage:

• Fridge: Up to 1 week

• Freezer: Up to 6 months
  (Tip: Freeze in 1-cup or 2-cup portions for easy use!)

When it sets and wobbles like jelly, that’s collagen from the bones.
That’s a good wobble. That’s flavour.

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Afternoon — Espagnole Sauce

After lunch, it was time for Espagnole, the brown mother sauce.
This one’s rich, deep, glossy, and intense.
It’s basically the start of demi-glace and all those fancy French sauces that make steak taste like it’s had a Michelin moment.

I also decided to try out a new top-down camera angle for this one, I thought it looked cool, but you can let me know if it worked or if it just looked like I dropped my phone in a pot.

Anyway, here’s how it went down.

We started by heating the pot and adding butter. Once that melted, in went the mirepoix, carrots, onion, and celery.
You season it with a bit of salt to help draw the moisture out, that’s called sweating. You’re softening the veg, not browning it just yet.

Once the onions went translucent, I added garlic and cooked it for about 30 seconds until it became aromatic.
If you cook garlic too long, it goes bitter, so you’ve got to watch it.

Then came the flour, basically an in-the-pot roux, which thickens the sauce and gives it body.
I cooked that off for a minute or so, then added tomato purée to bring in a bit of acidity and colour.
Tomato paste can be harsh if you don’t cook it down, so you stir it for a few minutes until it smells sweet rather than sharp.

Then in went some parsley stems for flavor and about a quart of the brown stock we’d made earlier in the week.
That stock had been simmered with roasted beef bones, so it was already deep and rich.

Once everything was in, we brought it up to a simmer and let it reduce for about an hour.
The kitchen smelled unbelievable, roasted veg, butter, beef stock, and that faint hit of tomato.

You know a sauce is ready when it coats the back of a spoon, what chefs call “nappé.”
When it clings and shines, you’ve nailed it.

We strained it through a fine sieve and what came out was this smooth, dark, silky sauce.

Espagnole. One of the five mother sauces.

The kind of thing that makes you feel like you’re actually starting to understand how flavours build.

Ingredients:

• 2 oz unsalted butter

• 1 small onion, small diced

• ½ carrot, small diced

• ½ celery stalk, small diced

• 3 cloves garlic, minced

• 1 tbsp all-purpose flour (in-pot roux)

• 2 oz tomato paste

• 1½ quarts brown stock (beef or veal stock) — reduced to yield ~1 quart sauce

• 1 sprig thyme

• 2–3 parsley stems

• Salt, to taste

• Black pepper, to taste

Instructions:

1. Sauté the mirepoix

   • In a medium saucepan, heat the butter over medium heat.

   • Add the diced onion, carrot, and celery.

   • Sprinkle in a pinch of salt and sweat the vegetables gently for 5–7 minutes until softened and lightly golden (not browned).

2. Add garlic and roux

   • Stir in the minced garlic and cook for 30 seconds.

   • Add 1 tablespoon of flour directly to the pot, stirring constantly to coat the vegetables.

   • Cook the flour until it forms a light brown roux, about 2–3 minutes.

3. Add tomato paste

   • Stir in the tomato paste and cook for another 1–2 minutes to deepen its flavor.

4. Add stock and herbs

   • Gradually add the brown stock while stirring to avoid lumps.

   • Toss in the thyme and parsley stems.

   • Bring to a gentle boil, then reduce to a low simmer.

5. Simmer and reduce

   • Simmer the sauce uncovered for 1 hour, stirring occasionally.

   • Skim off any foam or impurities that rise to the surface.

   • The sauce should reduce to about 1 quart and coat the back of a spoon.

6. Strain and finish

   • Strain the sauce through a fine mesh strainer to remove solids and herbs.

   • Taste and adjust seasoning with salt and pepper.

Storage:

• Fridge: Up to 1 week

• Freezer: Up to 3 months (great for prepping demi-glace later)

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What I Learned

White stock and Espagnole couldn’t be more different.

Both are about patience and attention.

White stock taught me to step back and trust the process, to let something develop quietly.
Espagnole taught me that sometimes you’ve got to push the heat, make a bit of noise, and take a risk.

They’re both built from the same principles, bones, veg, time, just treated differently.
Same ingredients, different story.
Kind of like people, really.

And that’s what I’m starting to love about this, the rhythm of it.
The moments where you stop overthinking, stop talking, and just cook.

Anyway, that’s Day 9.
One Stock, one Mothersauce, a lot of steam, and one very happy apron.

Cheers,
Andy

Leave a comment

Support the Journey

Every time someone follows me (Instagram, TikTok, Substack or YouTube) I donate to the Central Texas Food Bank.

But here’s the twist:
The more people follow, the more I have to give.

1¢ per follower up to 25,000
5¢ per follower from 25,001–150,000
10¢ per follower after that
Capped at $10,000 (for now 👀)

So the faster we grow, the more I donate, and the sooner we hit $10K in meals for families across Central Texas.

Let’s see how fast you can make me hit that $10,000 goal.
You follow. I donate. We feed people. Easy.

Because food should bring people together, not leave anyone hungry.

You can also donate directly to the Central Texas Food Bank.
Every dollar helps put real meals on real tables.

Donate to Central Texas Food Bank

Follow the Journey

📸 Instagram: @theandrewcairns
🎥 YouTube: @theandrewcairns
🎵 TikTok: @theandrewcairns
📰 Substack: theandrewcairns.substack.com
🌐 Website: www.theandrewcairns.com

Subscribe now

Question for You

When you cook, are you more of a simmer-slowly-and-trust-the-process person, or a crank-the-heat-and-see-what-happens kind of cook?

Leave a comment

Today felt different. It was the first day that really felt like cooking.

Not measuring. Not memorising.
Cooking.

The kind where you stop reading and start listening, to the sound of the pot, the smell in the air, and the feel of what’s happening right in front of you.

The Culinary School at the Central Texas Food Bank doesn’t hand out recipes the way you’d expect. They give you a list of ingredients, teach you the fundamentals, and let you figure out the rest.

Don’t like too much spice? Use less jalapeño.
Want it more spicy? Use Serranos
Like your soup thinner? Add more stock.
Prefer it smoky? Let it cook a little longer.

It’s about learning technique, but more importantly, it’s about learning how to trust yourself.
Cooking by feel.

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Building Flavour from the Ground Up

We made Chicken Tortilla Soup.
Simple ingredients, big lessons.

It starts with cubed chicken thighs seasoned with salt and browned in oil. That’s where the flavour begins. When the chicken hits the pan, it leaves behind those brown bits on the bottom, the fond, or the sucs if you want to sound fancy.

Those bits aren’t burnt. They’re the gold. That’s the flavour you want to build on.

Once the chicken was browned, we took it out and added diced onions, garlic, and sliced jalapeños to the same pot. The heat loosened all that flavour from the bottom, turning it into a base that smelled like comfort. That’s called deglazing — it’s what brings the dish to life before you even add liquid.

Then came the tomatoes. Fresh ones, quartered and diced. We cooked them down until they started to melt into the onions and peppers. When you see that happen, you know you’re building flavour properly.

Then we added the stock. Not water.

Water just cooks food. Stock connects it.

All that work from Day 6, simmering bones and vegetables for hours, paid off here. It added body and depth without needing cream or butter. It made the soup taste like it had been cooking all day, even though it only needed twenty minutes.

That was one of the biggest surprises of the day. I always thought good soup needed to simmer for hours, but Chef taught us that time doesn’t equal flavour — technique does.
A twenty-minute simmer is enough if you’ve built the layers right.

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The Order Matters

There’s a reason we add things in a certain order.

You start with your dry ingredients — onions, garlic, peppers, herbs — because heat makes their oils bloom. That’s where the flavour is. Add them straight into liquid, and they’ll never get the chance to shine.

Garlic always goes in after the onions soften. Garlic burns fast, and burnt garlic ruins everything.

These small details seem tiny until you taste the difference they make. That’s when you realise this course isn’t about recipes. It’s about understanding why things work.

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Thinking About the Person on the Other End of the Spoon

This part hit me hard.

Chef said, “Think about the person eating it.”

It sounds simple, but it changes everything.

If you’re making soup, you can’t leave giant chunks of onion floating around or toss in tomato halves because you couldn’t be bothered to dice them. You have to think about the spoon. Think about what it feels like to eat it.

Each bite should fit comfortably on a spoon and in a mouth.

Because cooking isn’t really about you. It’s about them.
The person sitting down with the bowl in front of them. The person who maybe hasn’t had a meal cooked with care in a long time. The person who needs warmth more than words.

It’s about giving someone a moment that feels good.

When you cook with someone else in mind, everything changes, how you season, how you plate, how you move. You stop thinking about what you want to show and start thinking about what they need to feel.

That’s what separates feeding from caring.

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🌶️ Chicken Tortilla Soup Recipe

🧺 Ingredients:

• 4 chicken thighs (bone-in, skin-on or boneless)

• 2–3 corn tortillas (plus extra for garnish)

• 1 ripe avocado, diced

• 2 serrano peppers (or substitute with jalapeños for less heat)

• 1 lime (zest optional, juice divided)

• 1 bunch cilantro, chiffonade (finely sliced)

• 1 medium onion, diced

• 3 cloves garlic, minced

• 4 ripe tomatoes, quartered and large diced

• 1 quart chicken stock (or 1 bouillon spoon mixed with hot water—1 spoon per ½ gallon)

• 1 tsp dried oregano, chopped

• Oil, as needed (for cooking and frying)

• Cotija cheese, crumbled (for garnish)

• Salt, to taste

🔪 Instructions:

1. Prep the tortillas

   • Cut 2–3 corn tortillas into thin strips. Set aside for garnish later.

2. Brown the chicken

   • Heat a large pot over medium-high heat and add oil.

   • Season the chicken thighs with salt and brown them on both sides.

   • Remove and set aside.

3. Build the flavor base

   • In the same pot, add diced onions, minced garlic, and sliced serrano or jalapeño peppers.

   • Sauté until soft and aromatic (about 4–5 minutes). Season with a little salt.

4. Add the tomatoes

   • Stir in the chopped tomatoes. Cook until they start to break down, about 5–7 minutes.

5. Simmer the soup

   • Return the chicken to the pot.

   • Pour in just enough stock to cover the chicken.

   • Add the chopped oregano.

   • Simmer uncovered for 20 minutes, or until chicken is cooked through and flavors have melded.

6. Season and finish

   • Adjust salt to taste. Squeeze in juice from half the lime.

   • Stir in half of the chopped cilantro.

7. Make crispy tortilla strips

   • Heat a small pan with oil and fry the tortilla strips until golden and crispy. Drain on paper towels and sprinkle with salt.

8. Assemble and serve

   • Ladle soup into bowls.

   • Top with diced avocado, crispy tortilla strips, extra cilantro, Cotija cheese, and a squeeze of the remaining lime juice.

What I Learned

Chicken Tortilla Soup taught me that cooking isn’t about perfection or following a recipe to the letter.
It’s about paying attention, to the food, to the process, and to the people.

It’s about the person on the other end of the spoon.

That’s who you’re really cooking for. The person who takes that first bite. The one who tastes the effort, the care, the time you put into it, even if they never see it.

Cooking is connection. It’s a way of saying, “I thought about you.”

That’s what we’re learning here at the Food Bank.
How to cook food that feeds people, not just fills them.

Cheers,
Andy

Subscribe now

Support the Journey

Every time someone follows me (Instagram, TikTok, Substack or YouTube) I donate to the Central Texas Food Bank.

But here’s the twist:
The more people follow, the more I have to give.

1¢ per follower up to 25,000
5¢ per follower from 25,001–150,000
10¢ per follower after that
Capped at $10,000 (for now 👀)

So the faster we grow, the more I donate, and the sooner we hit $10K in meals for families across Central Texas.

Let’s see how fast you can make me hit that $10,000 goal.
You follow. I donate. We feed people. Easy.

Because food should bring people together, not leave anyone hungry.

You can also donate directly to the Central Texas Food Bank.
Every dollar helps put real meals on real tables.

Donate to Central Texas Food Bank

Follow the Journey

📸 Instagram: @theandrewcairns
🎥 YouTube: @theandrewcairns
🎵 TikTok: @theandrewcairns
📰 Substack: theandrewcairns.substack.com
🌐 Website: www.theandrewcairns.com

Subscribe now

Question for You

When you cook, who’s on the other end of your spoon — and how do you want them to feel when they take that first bite?

Leave a comment

Today was sauce day.
And if you’ve ever wondered what separates home cooking from restaurant cooking, this is it.
Sauces.

Once you understand how to make a sauce, you start to feel cooking instead of just following it.
You start learning when to slow down, when to whisk faster, and when to trust your instincts.
That’s when you stop being someone who “makes food” and start being someone who cooks.

The Five Mother Sauces

Chef Cameron started class by writing five words on the board:
Béchamel, Velouté, Espagnole, Tomato, Hollandaise.

These are called the mother sauces, the building blocks that almost every other sauce comes from.
They’re like the five chords that make every song.

Béchamel is your white creamy base made from milk and roux.
Velouté is the lighter version made with stock instead of milk.
Espagnole is your dark, rich brown sauce built from roasted bones and brown roux.
Tomato is the classic, you already know that one.
And Hollandaise… that’s the wild one. Butter, egg yolks, and heat. The sauce that can either make you a hero or break your confidence.

Today, we tackled the creamy and the chaotic, Béchamel and Hollandaise.

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Béchamel - The Creamy One

We started with Béchamel, which is the backbone of comfort food.
Mac and cheese, lasagna, croque monsieur (fancy French grilled cheese with ham) I know, look at me go, but… it all starts here.

Chef said, “Never rush your roux,” and he was right.
If you cook the flour too little, your sauce tastes chalky.
If you brown it, it turns into something else entirely.
You want it just cooked, pale and nutty.

Once your roux is ready, warm milk goes in slowly, whisking constantly. It’ll look lumpy for a minute, don’t panic. Just keep whisking. It comes together.

Then there’s the seasoning. Salt, white pepper, and a pinch of nutmeg. Don’t skip the nutmeg. It’s not about making it taste like nutmeg; it just wakes everything up.

One of my biggest takeaways was that you’re not just making sauce, you’re building flavour in layers, heat, texture, smell, sound. Even the sound of the whisk changes when it’s ready.

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Roux — The Unsung Hero

A roux is a mix of fat and flour. When you cook the flour in the fat, you’re coating the starch granules in fat so they don’t clump when liquid hits them.
But at that stage, they’re still raw starch granules.

They only “activate” when they reach a temperature of roughly 180–200°F (82–93°C) right around the point where your sauce just begins to bubble. That’s when the starch granules absorb liquid, swell, and burst, releasing starch molecules that thicken the sauce.

If you’ve never made roux before, it’s the secret glue that holds sauces together.
White for creamy sauces, blonde for gravies, brown for darker, deeper dishes like gumbo or Espagnole.

If it smells nutty and smooth, you’re good.
If it smells burnt or looks oily, start over.

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Béchamel Sauce (Makes 1 Quart)

Ingredients
2 oz unsalted butter
2 oz all-purpose flour
1 quart whole milk
Half an onion
1 bay leaf
1 whole clove
Salt, white pepper, and a pinch of nutmeg

How I Made It
In one pan, I melted butter and whisked in the flour. I let it cook for about two or three minutes, just enough to get rid of the raw flour taste but not enough to brown it.
In another pot, I heated up the milk with a bay leaf and half an onion studded with a clove. I didn’t boil it, just warmed it and let it steep for a few minutes. That step adds this soft, subtle flavour that makes the sauce taste finished.

Then I whisked the warm milk slowly into the roux. The trick is to go slow. if you dump it in all at once, you’ll get lumps.
You get more control if you add the roux to the liquid vs dumping all the liquid in.
When it started to thicken and bubble, this is when the roux activates, if it doesn’t bubble it doesn’t activate, I turned it down, seasoned it with salt, white pepper, and nutmeg, and let it simmer gently for about 15 minutes.

If you want that perfect, silky texture, strain it at the end. It’s optional, but worth it.

Top tip: Press plastic wrap right onto the surface before putting it in the fridge so it doesn’t form a skin.

Pro move: Add cheese and it becomes a Mornay sauce. That’s your mac and cheese base right there.

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Hollandaise - The Wild One

After Béchamel came Hollandaise, which honestly felt more like a test of patience than a recipe.
It’s made with egg yolks, lemon juice, and clarified butter.

You can make clarified butter or you can buy it… it’s also called Ghee.

Three simple ingredients, one fragile relationship.

The entire class was whisking like maniacs, trying to keep the sauce alive. One second too hot and the yolks scramble, one second too cold and it breaks apart.

Chef said, “You’ll know it’s right when it coats the spoon but still pours off.”

When it works, it’s this bright, buttery, lemony sauce that tastes alive. You can put it on eggs, asparagus, salmon, or even steak.
It’s richness with balance, buttery but light, creamy but fresh.

Here’s how we made it.

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Classic Hollandaise Sauce (Makes About 12 oz)

Ingredients
12 oz unsalted butter
3 egg yolks
2½ tablespoons fresh lemon juice
½ teaspoon salt dissolved in a teaspoon of warm water
Pinch of cayenne (optional)

How I Made It
First, clarify the butter. Melt it slowly and skim off the white foam on top. Pour off the clear golden butterfat and leave the milky solids behind. Keep it warm, not hot.

Then set up a bain-marie, a pot with a bit of simmering water and a bowl on top that doesn’t touch the water. That gentle heat is key.

In the bowl, whisk the yolks with lemon juice and the dissolved salt until they start to thicken. You’ll feel it change.
Then start adding the warm butter slowly, I mean really slowly, while whisking nonstop. When it starts to come together, you can speed up a little, but never stop whisking.

When it’s right, it’s thick, glossy, and smooth, like warm sunshine in a bowl.

If it breaks, don’t panic. You can usually save it by whisking in a teaspoon of warm water or a fresh yolk.
If it gets too thick, add a splash of lemon juice or warm water to loosen it up.

Chef tip: Hollandaise hates heat. Keep it warm, not hot. Too much heat and you’ll be eating buttered scrambled eggs.

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Why Sauces Matter

Today I realised sauces are what connect food.
They make everything on the plate make sense.
Without sauce, food can feel like separate parts. With sauce, it feels complete.

It’s kind of like conversation. Sauce is the thing that ties it all together and makes it flow.

Béchamel taught me control and consistency.
Hollandaise taught me patience and intuition.
And maybe that’s what cooking really is, learning when to trust the rules and when to trust yourself.

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What I Learned

Cooking isn’t about fancy ingredients. It’s about slowing down and giving things your full attention.
Sauces are unforgiving that way. They’ll tell you immediately if you’re distracted.

When Chef Cameron tasted my Hollandaise, he smiled and said, “Saucy, saucy.”
I’ll take that as high praise.

Cheers,
Andy

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Question for You

If you made one of these sauces at home, Béchamel or Hollandaise, which would you try first, and what would you put it on?

Leave a comment

Support the Journey

Every time someone follows me (Instagram, TikTok, Substack or YouTube) I donate to the Central Texas Food Bank.

But here’s the twist:
The more people follow, the more I have to give.

1¢ per follower up to 25,000
5¢ per follower from 25,001–150,000
10¢ per follower after that
Capped at $10,000 (for now 👀)

So the faster we grow, the more I donate, and the sooner we hit $10K in meals for families across Central Texas.

Let’s see how fast you can make me hit that $10,000 goal.
You follow. I donate. We feed people. Easy.

Because food should bring people together, not leave anyone hungry.

You can also donate directly to the Central Texas Food Bank.
Every dollar helps put real meals on real tables.

Donate to Central Texas Food Bank

Follow the Journey

📸 Instagram: @theandrewcairns
🎥 YouTube: @theandrewcairns
🎵 TikTok: @theandrewcairns
📰 Substack: theandrewcairns.substack.com
🌐 Website: www.theandrewcairns.com

Subscribe now

Today was the day it all started to feel real.
We finally got into the kitchen.

This isn’t your average cooking class.
It’s eight hours a day, five days a week, for twelve straight weeks.
It’s full on. And I fucking love it.

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Getting Started

We kicked off the morning like usual, classroom time with Chef Cameron leading a presentation.

Each day has a topic.

Today was kitchen safety and knife skills.

He covered everything you need to know to not lose a finger or walk into someone holding a hot pan.
If you’re carrying a knife, you say “sharp.”
If you’re turning a corner, you say “corner.”
If you’re walking behind someone, you say “behind.”

It feels awkward shouting that at first, but once the kitchen gets busy, you realise it’s not optional, it’s mandatory.
It keeps everyone aware, it keeps everyone safe, and it’s part of what makes a professional kitchen tick.

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The Setup

We still don’t have our personal knife kits yet, they’re on the way, maybe tomorrow, but the Food Bank gave us everything else.
Shoes, pants, jackets, books.
All of it.

And it’s free. Its Unreal.
They give you the tools, the training, and the support to learn, grow, and start again.
If you show up ready to learn, they’ll meet you there.

Putting on that chef jacket for the first time hit different.
You stand a bit taller. You take things a bit more seriously.

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Knife Basics

Chef started by breaking down the parts of a knife.

The point is for piercing and scoring.
The edge is your main cutting surface.
The spine gives the blade strength.
The heel handles the tougher cuts.
The bolster (the thick bit before the handle) helps with balance and control.
The handle — that’s home base.

Then there’s the tang, the part of the blade that runs into the handle.
If the tang goes all the way through the handle, it’s called a full tang, and that’s what you want.
It makes the knife stronger, more balanced, and more reliable.
Cheaper knives often have a partial tang, which means the metal only runs partway through the handle, and those can snap or loosen over time.

A full tang knife just feels right in your hand.
It’s solid, balanced, and feels like an extension of your arm instead of a tool you’re holding.

Then Chef said something that stuck with me:

“A sharp knife is a safe knife.”

That sounds backward, but it’s true.
A dull knife slips. It forces you to push harder. That’s how accidents happen.
A sharp knife glides. It does the work for you.

And the biggest rule of all, always cut on a flat surface.
If a vegetable’s rolling around, cut a thin slice off the bottom to make it stable.
Flat side down means control. Control means safety.

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Cuts Explained

Here’s what we learned today — the basic knife cuts that every chef needs to master:

Large dice – big cubes for soups or stews.
Medium dice – a bit smaller, perfect for sautés or sides.
Small dice – neat, tiny cubes for sauces or clean plating.
Julienne – long, thin matchsticks, great for salads or stir-fry.
Batonnet – a thicker julienne, good for roasting or crudités.
Brunoise – take your julienne and dice it again into perfect little squares.
Chiffonade – roll up herbs or greens and slice them into ribbons. Think basil.
Supreme – slicing citrus so only the juicy flesh remains, no peel or pith.
Minced or paste – chopping garlic until it becomes smooth, releasing the oils and flavor.

Every one of these has a purpose.
At home you just chop things up however they land.
But in a professional kitchen, consistency is everything.

And that’s what really stood out to me today, watching Chef Cameron cut.
His movements were smooth and calm, the blade did all the work, it was effortless, but what blew me away was the consistency.
Every piece was the exact same size.
Every slice looked like it was measured with a ruler.

That’s what separates pros from beginners.
The evenness means everything cooks evenly, but it’s also about discipline.
Accuracy first, then consistency, and only after that comes speed.
You don’t rush your way into precision. you earn it by doing it over and over again.

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Finding the Rhythm

After the demo, it was our turn.
And that’s when it got real.

We spent hours cutting onions, celery, carrots, potatoes, tomatoes, oranges, herbs, garlic, you name it.
At first it’s clumsy and slow. You overthink every cut, trying not to mess it up.
Then, at some point, your brain shuts up and your hands just take over.

You find this rhythm.
The knife glides.
Your breathing slows.
It’s just you and the sound of the blade tapping the board.

It becomes meditative.
You stop thinking about how hard it is and just focus on the movement.

Chef walked by, looked at my board, and said, “Clean cuts.”
That one little comment hit me like a trophy.
I wasn’t just surviving my first day in the kitchen, I was doing alright.

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Cleaning Down

After a few more hours of chopping, we cleaned everything.
Sanitised the stations, scrubbed the floors, put everything back in its place.
That’s the daily rhythm here.
Presentation, demo, cook, clean.

It’s not glamorous.
But it’s real.
And it’s what makes the kitchen run like it should.

What I Learned

Day 5 taught me something simple but important.
Cooking isn’t about speed or showing off.
It’s about precision, patience, and pride in the little things.

Anyone can make food.
But to make it well, you’ve got to care.
You’ve got to give a shit.

Cheers,
Andy

Support the Journey

Every time someone follows me (Instagram, TikTok, Substack or YouTube) I donate to the Central Texas Food Bank.

But here’s the twist:
The more people follow, the more I have to give.

1¢ per follower up to 25,000
5¢ per follower from 25,001–150,000
10¢ per follower after that
Capped at $10,000 (for now 👀)

So the faster we grow, the more I donate, and the sooner we hit $10K in meals for families across Central Texas.

Let’s see how fast you can make me hit that $10,000 goal.
You follow. I donate. We feed people. Easy.

Because food should bring people together, not leave anyone hungry.

You can also donate directly to the Central Texas Food Bank.
Every dollar helps put real meals on real tables.

Donate to Central Texas Food Bank

Follow the Journey

📸 Instagram: @theandrewcairns
🎥 YouTube: @theandrewcairns
🎵 TikTok: @theandrewcairns
📰 Substack: theandrewcairns.substack.com
🌐 Website: www.theandrewcairns.com

Subscribe now

Today was a little different. No knives. No croissants. No sweating over a tilt skillet the size of a hot tub.

Day 4 of Culinary School was remote.
Just me, a laptop, and a course called Texas Food Handler Certification.

Not exactly riveting, but it’s one of those behind-the-scenes things every cook has to do, whether you’re serving in a restaurant, volunteering at a food bank, or feeding hundreds of families like we do at the Central Texas Food Bank.

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Certified (and Slightly Wiser)

So, I’m officially a Certified Texas Food Handler.

It sounds impressive, but it basically means I’ve been officially trained not to poison anyone.

The course covered all the glamorous stuff:

• Proper handwashing (20 seconds, not the two we all did in 2020)

• Cross-contamination (keep raw chicken away from everything, including your soul)

• Food storage temperatures (the “danger zone” is 41°F to 135°F, and not the cool Top Gun kind)

• Cleaning and sanitizing (yes, they’re different things)

• And why you should never reuse a tasting spoon, even if it’s “just one more taste.”

You think you know this stuff… until you realise how easy it is to mess it up.

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Respect for the Process

It reminded me how much goes into something as simple as a meal.
When you sit down at a restaurant, or pick up food from a charity kitchen, there’s a quiet system at work behind every bite — people making sure what you eat is safe.

Most of us never think about that. We just eat.
But for those who prepare, pack, and serve food, it’s constant. It’s discipline. It’s respect.

I used to see food safety as a checklist.
Now I see it as a quiet act of hospitality.
Because if hospitality is about how you make people feel, food safety is about making sure they stay feeling good.

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My Takeaway

Today wasn’t flashy. No fire. No knives. No butter-scented miracles.

But it was important.
And it gave me a deeper respect for the people who make food safely, every single day, without fanfare or credit.

Next week, we move on to knife skills.
That’s when things start getting sharp — literally.

Cheers,
Andy

Leave a comment

🍴 Support the Journey

Every time someone follows me (Instagram, TikTok, Substack or YouTube) I donate to the Central Texas Food Bank.

But here’s the twist:
The more people follow, the more I have to give.

1¢ per follower up to 25,000
5¢ per follower from 25,001 to 150,000
10¢ per follower after that
Capped at $10,000 (for now 👀)

So the faster we grow, the more I donate, and the sooner we hit $10K in meals for families across Central Texas.

Let’s see how fast you can make me hit that $10,000 goal.
You follow. I donate. We feed people. Easy.

Because food should bring people together, not leave anyone hungry.

You can also donate directly to the Central Texas Food Bank.
Every dollar helps put real meals on real tables.

Subscribe now

Follow the Journey

📸 Instagram: @theandrewcairns
🎥 YouTube: @theandrewcairns
🎵 TikTok: @theandrewcairns
📰 Substack: theandrewcairns.substack.com
🌐 Website: www.theandrewcairns.com

Day 4 Video

Day 3 Video

Welcome to Day 3 of Culinary School.

First things first, the beard is gone.

Yesterday’s beard net broke me. Hot, itchy and ridiculous-looking. When I got home, I showed a photo to my six-year-old daughter. She looked at me with that brutal kid honesty and said,

“Dad, shave it off. That’s stupid.”

It’s hard to argue with that level of confidence.
So aye, I did. She’s now in full control of my beard.

Rest in peace beard. You never stood a chance against her.

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Meeting Chef Cameron

Today was our first proper classroom day and our introduction to Chef Cameron, who’ll be guiding us through the next twelve weeks.

He started by welcoming us to the Central Texas Food Bank Culinary Training Program, and showed a slide that said:

“Over the next twelve weeks we will take you through an immersive course in hospitality and culinary training that will prepare you to enter the food service industry.”

Then he gave us a taste of what’s coming:

• Introduction to a professional kitchen and hospitality

• Soups, stocks, and sauces

• Grains, potatoes, and pasta

• Vegetable cookery and herb & spice identification

• Meat, poultry, and seafood

• Nutrition, baking, and pastry fundamentals

That’s when it really sank in. This isn’t just a class. It’s a professional, full-scale program, and it’s happening inside one of the largest food bank facilities in the country.

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Inside the Central Texas Food Bank

The Central Texas Food Bank is enormous, 160,000 square feet of purpose.

It’s the leading hunger-relief nonprofit in Central Texas, serving 21 counties and working with around 250 partner organizations. Every week, nearly 46,000 Central Texans, one-third of them children, count on this place to get the nutritious food they need and otherwise wouldn’t be able to afford.

Last year, the Food Bank provided nearly 54 million meals to families and individuals facing hunger.

Standing there, it hit me, this is more than a classroom or a kitchen. It’s a lifeline for so many people.

Their 4,200-square-foot Community Kitchen is where we train, cook, and prepare thousands of scratch-made meals every week for programs that reach families, seniors, and kids across Central Texas. It’s also where people learn new culinary skills and get certified to build careers in the food industry.

The program we’re in has an incredible impact, 75% of students find jobs after graduation.

Talking Hospitality

Most of today focused on one word: hospitality.

Not the polished, professional definition, the human one.

For me, the big takeaway was that hospitality is about creating memorable experiences and making people feel something. Giving them an experience they’ll remember, a customised experience, if you will.

If I ever owned a restaurant (which isn’t something I’m chasing right now), I’d want someone to walk in and say.

“This is my favourite.”

No one else can challenge that. That idea of someone choosing you because of how you made them feel really resonated with me. You can’t take away that experience, that thought, that feeling from anyone.

“People might forget what you served them, but they’ll never forget how you made them feel.”

That line is hospitality in one sentence. It’s what I want to bring into every part of my life, whether it’s food, family, or business.

Why I’m Really Here

I’m not doing this to become a chef or to work in the food service industry. I love cooking, but running a business and raising a family means twelve to sixteen hour shifts in a kitchen just aren’t realistic for me.

And let me be clear: I take my hat off to everyone who does it. The people in this industry are absolute warriors. The hours, the pressure, the precision, the service, it’s relentless. It takes grit, skill, and a deep sense of purpose to keep showing up every day.

It’s not an easy life, but it’s one built on love and service. Every meal served is an act of care.

For me, this journey is about understanding that world, learning from it, honoring it, and using what I learn to help others reconnect with food and their families and create memorable conversations and experiences.

I want to share that with the world.
I want to make an impact.
I want to help people get back into their kitchens, cooking real food for their families.
I want families to sit around the kitchen table and connect with each other.

Not fancy food. Not complicated food. Just real, nourishing meals made with love.

We live in a world where so much of what we eat is ultra-processed shite, food engineered to sit on shelves, not feed our souls. Cooking is how we take that back.

If I can inspire even a few people to pick up a knife, cook from scratch, and share a meal with someone they love, that’s success to me.

The Tour

After class, we toured the warehouse and kitchens.

The scale of it all is mind-blowing.

160,000 square feet of logistics, coolers, forklifts, and volunteers moving in sync like a hive of purpose. Pallets stacked high with fresh produce, dry goods, canned food, and boxes ready to ship to families who need it most.

The Central Texas Food Bank supports programs for everyone, from Kids Café® serving 83,000 after-school meals, to the BackPack Program helping kids take food home on weekends, to the HOPE Program that delivers more than 1.6 million pounds of groceries to seniors every year.

They even teach gardening and nutrition classes, helping people grow and cook their own food.

Being part of this place makes you realize how connected food really is, not just to survival, but to human connection, learning, and community.

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My Takeaway

Today wasn’t about recipes or knife cuts. It was about perspective.

Hospitality isn’t what you do, it’s how you make people feel while you’re doing it.
And food isn’t just something we eat, it’s something we share its nourishes our soul.

Good food fills stomachs.
Great hospitality fills hearts.
And real food, the kind you cook yourself, can change lives.

Cheers,
Andy

Subscribe now

Support the Journey

Every time someone follows me (Instagram, TikTok, Substack or YouTube) I donate to the Central Texas Food Bank.

But here’s the twist:
The more people follow, the more I have to give.

1¢ per follower up to 25,000
5¢ per follower from 25,001–150,000
10¢ per follower after that
Capped at $10,000 (for now 👀)

So the faster we grow, the more I donate, and the sooner we hit $10K in meals for families across Central Texas.

Let’s see how fast you can make me hit that $10,000 goal.
You follow. I donate. We feed people. Easy.

Because food should bring people together, not leave anyone hungry.

You can also donate directly to the Central Texas Food Bank.
Every dollar helps put real meals on real tables.

Donate to Central Texas Food Bank

Follow the Journey

📸 Instagram: @theandrewcairns
🎥 YouTube: @theandrewcairns
🎵 TikTok: @theandrewcairns
📰 Substack: theandrewcairns.substack.com
🌐 Website: www.theandrewcairns.com

Leave a comment

Yesterday was chaos: 7,000 pounds of sweet potatoes, noise, sweat, and me wondering what the hell I’d just signed up for.

Today though? It felt different.
Still busy, still loud, still sweaty, but I started to feel like I belonged there.

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The Morning Rush: A Thousand Croissants

We kicked off the morning volunteering again for three straight hours in the kitchen.

Our job? Slice, stuff, and wrap 1,000 ham-and-cheese croissants for kids who rely on the Food Bank for meals.

They were already baked, so the mission was simple: slice, fill, wrap, repeat.

Not glamorous, but strangely peaceful.
There’s something meditative about repetitive work when you know it matters.

The kitchen was alive with trays clanging, people laughing, and the smell of butter and bread everywhere.
At some point, you realise this isn’t practice.
This is real food for real people.
And that changes everything.

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Somewhere Around Croissant #401

I caught this smell that stopped me mid-wrap.
Chef Gloria was slow-braising beef and onions for the adult meal program in something called a tilt skillet.

Now, I’d never seen one of those before.
It’s like a frying pan and a cement mixer had a baby.
You can cook for an army in it, then pull a lever and just pour out 50 litres of stew like it’s a futuristic cauldron.

And the smell coming off it…
I swear, that aroma could heal childhood trauma.
Deep, rich, comforting — like Sunday dinner memories wrapped in steam.

That’s when it hit me.
This is why I love food.
Because it connects you to something bigger than yourself.

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Five Hundred Quesadillas and a New Word

After croissants, we moved on to 500 cheese quesadillas.

That’s where we learned a new kitchen term: shingling.
Now, I thought shingles were for roofs, and sure as fuck, we were making trays of them and layering those quesadillas like roof tiles.

Never knew that was an actual culinary term, but apparently it is.

So there you go — I’m now a certified tortilla roofer.

By number 200, I was in full tortilla zen mode.
You don’t need mindfulness apps when you’ve got a hot kitchen, a deadline, and a mountain of cheese.

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The Garden That Feeds Thousands

After lunch, we took a walk through the Food Bank’s garden.
It’s just under an acre, yet somehow it produces 23,000 pounds of fruit and vegetables every year.

That’s not a garden. That’s a miracle.
Everything grown there goes straight back into the community.

The Loofah Revelation

Then I spotted this massive leafy archway and asked what it was.
They said, “Oh, that’s the loofah arch.”

Loofah.
As in, the thing you scrub yourself with in the shower.

Apparently, it grows on vines.
You peel it, dry it, and there you go: your natural sponge.

I’ve spent my entire life thinking loofahs came from the ocean.
Nope. Fucking plants.
Nature is a mad bastard.

“Eat the Flower,” They Said

Someone handed me a borage flower and told me to eat it.

Now, listen, I’m Scottish.
We don’t eat flowers. We fry them.

But I tried it anyway, and it tasted like cucumber.
Crisp, clean, fresh, one of those “holy shit” moments that reminds you how weird and wonderful food really is.

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RIP Beard (2016–2025)

Then came the beard-net situation.
Apparently, anyone with facial hair has to wear one in the kitchen.

Which is fair. Nobody wants beard bits in their breakfast burrito.
But my God, that thing was torture.
Hot, itchy, ridiculous-looking.

I showed the photos below to my daughter and she just said,

“No. Shave it off.”

So aye, I did.
She’s now in full control of my beard apparently.

RIP beard. You were decent while you lasted.

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Butter, Cheese, and Belonging

By the end of the day, I smelled like butter and cheese and couldn’t feel my shoulders, but I felt good.

Not in the “I nailed a recipe” kind of way.
In the “I did something that mattered” kind of way.

This isn’t fancy culinary school stuff.
No white tablecloths. No plating tweezers.
Just food.
Real food. For real people.
Made with heart.

And that’s starting to mean more to me than I expected.

Tomorrow we head into the classroom to talk about hospitality,
which feels perfect, because if today was about feeding people,
tomorrow’s about making them feel something.

Cheers,
Andy

🎥 Watch the video — “My First Day at Culinary School”

YouTube: Day 2 Video

🍴 Follow along — every follow does some good.

Subscribe now

Let’s Do Some Good Together

Every time someone follows me (Instagram, TikTok, Substack or YouTube).

I donate to the Central Texas Food Bank.

But here’s the twist:
The more people follow, the more I have to give.

• 1¢ per follower up to 25,000

• 5¢ per follower from 25,001–150,000

• 10¢ per follower after that

• Capped at $10,000 (for now 👀)

So the faster we grow, the more I donate, and the sooner we hit $10K in meals for families across Central Texas.

Let’s see how fast you can make me hit that $10,000 goal.

You follow. I donate. We feed people. Easy.

Because food should bring people together, not leave anyone hungry.

You can also donate directly to the Central Texas Food Bank.
Every dollar helps put real meals on real tables.

Donate to Central Texas Food Bank

🌍 Follow the Journey

📸 Instagram: @theandrewcairns
🎥 YouTube: @theandrewcairns
🎵 TikTok: @theandrewcairns
📰 Substack: theandrewcairns.substack.com
🌐 Website: www.theandrewcairns.com

Progress Tracker

For twelve weeks, I went through the Culinary Training Program at the Central Texas Food Bank, and it’s taken me this long to process it all.
I’ve thought about it nearly every day since, not in a “that was fun” way, but in a something about that changed me and I still can’t explain it kind of way.

So this is me, nine months later, trying to make sense of it.
It’s a recap, a reflection, and something that’s been burning inside me to share.

I don’t know what it means yet.
I don’t know where it leads.
But I know I’m supposed to do this, to write it, to film it, to share it.

Worst case, I donate money to the Food Bank, help some people in need, and finally get this story out of my system.
Best case… it becomes something much bigger.

The Call

I’d applied for the program back in October 2024, forgot all about it, and then out of nowhere on December 27th, I got the call:

“Hi Andrew, you’ve been accepted! Orientation’s on January 6th.”

Six. Fucking. Days.

I stood there thinking, how the hell am I going to pull this off?
Christmas wasn’t even cleaned up yet.

I called my wife. Then my business partner.
Both said the same thing:

“Fucking do it.”

I hesitated for maybe thirty seconds, thinking about the business, the kids, the timing, and then my wife looked me dead in the eye and said:

“You haven’t worked this hard building a business just to say no to the things in life you actually want to do. So fucking do it.”

And that was that. Decision made.

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Why I Said Yes

This wasn’t about changing careers.
It was about doing something for me, something that lit me up again, made me curious, and reminded me what joy actually feels like.

I’ve always dreamed of going to culinary school.
But in my dream, I’m retired, living in Paris with my wife, eating croissants in the morning, drinking wine at night, learning from some charming old French chef who smells like butter and garlic, and eating like absolute royalty.

That’s the dream, a proper bucket-list one.
And one day, I’ll do it.

But this? This was my version of saying yes to life now.
Starting where I was, with what I had, in Austin, Texas, at the Central Texas Food Bank, learning to cook while helping feed people who really need it.
It’s not Paris… but it’s still pretty fucking special.

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What I Actually Signed Up For

The Culinary Training Program at the Central Texas Food Bank is a free, 12-week, hands-on course that teaches real-world kitchen skills, knife work, food safety, nutrition, and professionalism.

But it’s more than that.
Everything we make helps feed families across Central Texas.

So yeah, I was learning to cook, but I was also learning what it means to serve.
To cook with love and with heart.
To put your energy and soul into food that’s nourishing someone who might desperately need it.

That changes how you see cooking.
It’s no longer just a recipe, it’s an act of care, an act of service, an act of love.

The First Day

Within a few hours, I was shoulder-to-shoulder with sixty-five volunteers, packing 7,000 pounds of sweet potatoes.
Seven-thousand. Fucking. Pounds.

Not exactly what I pictured when I thought of culinary school, but exactly what I needed.
It was sweaty, repetitive, and strangely grounding.

Somewhere between potato number 1,000 and 5,000 I realized something:
It’s not just about what you eat.
It’s about who you eat with.

That’s where the real meaning lives.

5,663 meals to our Neighbors in need!

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Why Cooking Matters (to Me)

I’d looked into fancy culinary schools, the $35k ones, but that’s not what I wanted.
I’m not chasing a Michelin star.

I just want to understand food, the science, the flavors, the why behind it.
How to build depth.
How to get away from the ultra-processed shit we’re all fed and cook food that actually nourishes.

Food is medicine.
Food is connection.
Food is love.

When you’re sick, there’s that one comfort food that fixes everything.
When you’re travelling, you try something new and it changes you.
And when you’re standing awkwardly at school drop-off trying to talk to other parents, somehow the conversation always comes back to food, and suddenly, everyone joins in.

Food breaks barriers.
It connects people.
It’s the one language we all speak.

And when you cook with love, with heart, you can feel it.
You’re not just throwing things in a pan; you’re nourishing someone.
You’re giving off energy, putting soul into something that might be exactly what someone needs that day.

Starting Fresh

When I first started culinary school, I made videos every day.
Posted them. Shared them.
Then I deleted everything.

Not because I regretted it, but because it didn’t feel right.

I wanted a clean slate.
New social media. New domain. New everything.
A full reset.

I didn’t want to chase trends or go viral.
I just wanted to build something authentic.
Something that actually felt like me.

So here we are, starting again.
If you saw the old videos, thank you.
If you’re seeing them again, don’t complain. They’ve got more purpose now.
They’re not just for me anymore. They’re for anyone who wants to connect, learn, laugh, and maybe feel something real.

Do I care about likes and follows this time?
Sure, because I want this to be successful.
But not for ego.
I want to give back, to the Food Bank, to the friends I made, and to the new audience that gives a shit.
I want to lead, to inspire, and to do some good in the world.

Learning As I Go

Here’s the truth, I’ve got no formal training in any of this.
I’m learning as I go.
Cooking, filming, editing, writing, all of it.

I’d never edited a video before, so please have some patience with me.
The videos are short, messy, real, but full of love.

I’m doing this while raising three kids, running a business, and figuring out how to be creative again.
It’s chaos… but it’s good chaos.

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What Comes Next

I’m sharing this day by day, everything I learned from culinary school, what I felt, what I saw, what I fucked up, and what surprised me.

There’ll be recipes, reflections, stories, and lessons.
But more than that, I hope this builds a community of people who want to get better at something, cooking, creating, slowing down, living.

Cooking, for me, is meditative.
It’s how I slow my brain down and reconnect.

If you’re looking for that too, to feel grounded, creative, and connected, then this is for you.

It’s for anyone who’s sick of eating ultra-processed shite, who’s tired of scrolling past videos of perfect meals they’ll never make.
It’s for the ones who don’t cook, or can’t cook, but fucking want to.
Who want to nourish themselves, their kids, their families, their mates.

It’s for the people who want to experience new cultures and flavours, who care about where their food comes from and the stories behind it.
The ones who give a shit, about themselves, about others, about living a life that actually means something.

It’s for people who crave community and conversation, who want to learn, share, and teach.
Who want to talk about food, memories, culture, travel, and everything in between.
Who want to swap recipes and stories that have been passed down through generations, or even start new ones.

This is for anyone who wants to feel connected again, to their food, their people, and their purpose.

Because it’s not just about what you ate for dinner.
It’s about who you ate with.

Let’s Do Some Good Together

Every time someone follows me (Instagram, TikTok, Substack or YouTube) — I donate to the Central Texas Food Bank.

But here’s the twist:
The more people follow, the more I have to give.

• 1¢ per follower up to 25,000

• 5¢ per follower from 25,001–150,000

• 10¢ per follower after that

• Capped at $10,000 (for now 👀)

So the faster we grow, the more I donate, and the sooner we hit $10K in meals for families across Central Texas.

Let’s see how fast you can make me hit that $10,000 goal.

You follow. I donate. We feed people. Easy.

Because food should bring people together, not leave anyone hungry.

You can also donate directly to the Central Texas Food Bank.
Every dollar helps put real meals on real tables.

Donate to Central Texas Food Bank

Let’s Talk

A follow is awesome, but what I really want is conversation.
Ask questions.
Start discussions.
Tell me what you want to learn, what you want me to try, what you want to know more about.

Do you want challenges? Cooking experiments? Behind-the-scenes chaos?
Tell me. Let’s make it happen.

This isn’t just my story, it’s ours.
Let’s build it together.

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So yeah, Day 1 done.
I was tired, sore, and probably smelled like a sweet potato.
But I felt fucking alive.

Maybe that’s the point, to start before you’re ready, to do the thing that scares you, and to remember it’s never too late to follow what you love.

Stick around for Day 2, when I finally get to cook something, and hopefully don’t fuck it up too badly.

Cheers,
Andy

🎥 Watch the video — “My First Day at Culinary School”

YouTube: Day 1 Video

🍴 Follow along — every follow does some good.

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Follow the Journey

If you want to keep up with the chaos, the cooking, and the conversations, you can find me here 👇

📸 Instagram: @theandrewcairns
🎥 YouTube: @theandrewcairns
🎵 TikTok: @theandrewcairns
🌐 Website: www.theandrewcairns.com

#CulinarySchool #CookingWithPurpose #FoodIsConnection #FoodIsMedicine #RealFood #UnprocessedLiving #CentralTexasFoodBank #DoGoodEatGood #UnfilteredCooking #UnbridledJoy