Yesterday, I attended a memorial service for Soren Fakstorp. THose of you who know me well may remember that he was my chef-instructor for basic culinary and later my boss, giving me my first post-culinary school job.
He was young; only 54 years old. I was not prepared for how emotionally overwhelmed I would be.
Chef Soren was one of the best teachers I ever had. He made me have confidence in my own abilities and inspired my desire to learn everything I could about food and cooking. I remember his passion, the way it translated to the lectures he gave. I remember him teaching some of us how to make gravalax from a whole salmon. I remember the tour of Chinatown, standing in the street, eating crispy duck and roast pork with our hands. I remember him using my work computer to play solitaire.
Although I rarely saw him after I quit working at the school, I would think of him often. And it is so hard to think that he isn't here anymore to inspire the next round of students.
