I’ve fallen a little behind in updating this blog — these first couple of weeks have been a whirlwind! Our days are now filled with six hours of kitchen time, and it’s been an adjustment, both physically and mentally.
As I sit down to write about week two (while already in week four!) I realize I’ve grown accustomed to the unique exhaustion that comes from standing and learning lessons all day, squeezing in a quick lunch, and then heading straight into another class. But honestly, the learning is immense, and time has never felt so slow and fast at the same time. When I’m in the flow of learning something new and incorporating that into my own work, moving from one task to the next just feels like you’re completely present and energized.
Anyway, I said I was going to write about Week 2, so on to that, which is choux, choux choux!
Standard Choux Recipe:
Water: 125 g
Milk: 125 g
Butter (cubed): 100 g
Salt: 5 g
Sugar: 5 g
Flour: 150 g
Eggs: 250 g
Method:
In a saucepan, combine milk, water, butter, salt, and sugar. Let simmer.
Once the mixture reaches a boil, remove from heat and add the flour all at once. Mix well with a heat-safe rubber spatula until fully incorporated. This mixture is called the panade.
Return the panade to the heat and stir continuously to cook out excess moisture. The dough should pull away from the sides and form a cohesive mass.
Transfer to a bowl and let cool slightly. Gradually add the eggs, a little at a time, mixing thoroughly after each addition. Stop adding eggs once the dough reaches the right consistency (more on that below).
Transfer to a piping bag and pipe into desired shapes.
Brush with egg wash or melted butter and bake at 180°C (350°F) for 20–30 minutes, depending on size. Check for doneness.
Regular sized choux on the top tray brushed with butter and topped with nuts or dusted with icing sugar. Chouquettes brushed with egg wash and rolled in sugar on the bottom tray.
Lessons From a Week of Choux
I’ve attempted choux pastry before, very unsuccessfully, I might add, mostly because I didn’t understand just how dry the panade needed to be and how to be able to tell the batter consistency was just right. Practicing it every day for a week changed everything though! Here are some key lesson I learned that helped make my choux dough much better:
1. Drying the Panade
Cooking the flour over heat eliminates excess moisture in the dough. You’ll know it’s ready when it forms one smooth ball that doesn’t stick to the sides of the pan when you shake it. If the dough holds too much humidity, your choux won’t puff properly—it’ll stay flat instead of getting that signature hollow structure.
2. Incorporating the Eggs
Adding eggs back into the dough rehydrates it, but it’s crucial to go slowly. Eggs should be added in thirds, or even little by little, constantly checking the consistency. Our pastry instructor taught us three ways to tell when the dough is just right:
Ruban – The dough should have a smooth, ribbon-like consistency, similar to macaron batter. If it’s too stiff, it needs more egg.
Bec – When you lift the spatula or paddle attachment, the dough should form a “beak” at the tip.
Sillon – In French, sillon means the furrow left by a plow. Drag a spatula through the dough—if the line holds its shape before slowly folding in on itself, it’s ready. If it’s too stiff, it needs more egg; if it collapses immediately, it has too much.
3. Venting the Steam
This was new to me! Choux pastry creates a lot of humidity in the oven, which can prevent it from crisping up. To fix this, crack the oven door slightly (with a wooden spoon) 5 to 10 minutes into baking. This helps release excess moisture, resulting in a crispier shell.
Getting ready for assembly of the little nuns, aka religieuse.
With the same choux recipe, we created an array of pastries for the week.
Filled with chantilly cream. Cross section inspected to make sure pastries were properly filled, as quality patisseries should be doing. Eclairs dipped in chocolate glaze and filled with chocolate pastry cream. Religieuse topped with a craquelin, filled with coffee pastry cream, dipped in coffee ganache, and then piped with creme au beurre. Classic Paris-Brest is the Best. Drizzled generously with praline and piped with hazelnut mousseline.
Making choux in different forms for this week definitely felt like I unlocked a new level of achievement in the kitchen. We ended our pastry adventures that week with this excellent view:
Apparently the best view of Paris is from Montparnasse Tower. That is because you can’t see… well, Montparnasse Tower. (There’s some French sense of humor for you).
This past week has been a whirlwind, and I’ve been trying to find little pockets of time to stay connected with my loved ones, study more French, and prepare my meals. Mornings revolve around calculating how much time I have left to down my coffee before I need to leave for school. The walk takes about 30 minutes, though I could probably cut that in half if I took the train. But I choose to walk – it’s my time to breathe in the crisp morning air and observe Parisianson their morning commute. Since I live in a non-touristy area, people assume I’m French, or at least fluent, which constantly feels like you’re playing an undercover spy game.
A Magical Start
School has been both incredible and intense. I’ve never started something where, as they announced the curriculum on the first day, I got genuinely excited. Not ‘oh okay, I can do this,’ but ‘Yes! I want to learn that! And that! And that too!’ This must be my version of Harry Potter going to Hogwarts – except instead of magic, I get to nerd out about the art of pastry.
When asked about how to not gain weight when studying pastry, the pastry professor said, “Tasting is two or three bites. Anything more is classified as eating.”
What We Did in Week One
Getting our uniforms and lockers – Every morning, we change into our jackets, pants, and steel-toed kitchen clogs. As long as we’re roaming around in school, we need to be in uniform. Once we enter the labs, we have to add in hairnets, pastry hats, and aprons to keep everything clean. The transformation is real because once I wear that jacket, I feel like a pastry chef (even though I know little as of now).
Receiving our toolkits – And what a beauty she is! Opening it felt like Christmas morning. This toolkit contained everything we would need for school, all kinds of rubber and palette spatulas, knives, whisks, tasting spoons, cutter rings, digital scales etc. We learned how to sanitize and store our tools properly.
She is lovely.
Learning the rules – From how to greet and show respect to our chefs, to what’s allowed (and not allowed) in school, this was our crash course in pastry school etiquette.
Touring the campus and labs – We were shown where we’d be working, where the library was (yes, a library, the nerd in me internally shouts), little rec rooms to hang out in, bathrooms, courtyard where most of the French students smoke and hang out.
Diving into hygiene and safety – This was definitely an emphasis as we would be preparing food. Hygiene and cleanliness is king when handling food. If I’m going to be honest, the first quarter of our day would be spent cleaning our tools and the whole area itself.
Discussing the curriculum – This was when it really hit me – we’re going to learn so damn much. From the classic techniques to our final creativity project, everything seemed challenging but exciting. Oh yes, we also go on a lot of field trips!
Going to a chocolate store with the whole class… for research…
Discovering Lunches at the Cafeteria – As expected from one of France’s top culinary schools, even the cafeteria sets a high bar.
Soup to start, veal, potatoes, roasted veggies as an entree, and chocolate mousse for dessert.
Making Friends – of course, I don’t think I will survive this time living by myself if I didn’t already feel like I have a great group of people to spend this time with. The energy in our international patisserie program is friendly, eager, and collaborative – pretty much like an episode of The Great British Bakeoff. Just yesterday we stayed past 7:30 PM, exhausted and hungry, commiserating and laughing together before heading home.
Adjusting to a New Life
Back home, life was stable. I worked remotely at a cushy desk job, I spoke the language, knew how everything functioned – from grocery stores to the DMV. But moving to another country, even temporarily… that’s an entirely new rulebook.
This has been easily the longest week I’ve had in a while, simply because I’m constantly learning – even in the smallest things. How to take out the trash, use self-checkout, or turn my phone into a train pass. Nothing is on autopilot yet.
How I Spend My Free Time
When I’m not in school, I’ve been trying to:
Make my space feel like home – I’ve picked up a few things to make my rental cozier, rearranged some furniture, and taped photos of my loved ones to the wall. Every time I pass by, I smile, knowing they’re cheering me on in my journey.
Home for the next few months.
Find green spaces – Coming from the West Coast in the US, where we’re spoiled with open skies, sunshine, and swaths of greenery, Paris in February feels a bit dreary – concrete buildings (the most beautiful architecture, yes, but still slabs of gray), and rain. Luckily I’m sandwiched between two beautiful parks. This Sunday I spent time in one of them getting to know some of the local wildlife.
This fella was getting fed by the locals.
Cook more meals – as much as I’d love to eat at a different trendy cafe every night, reality (and my student budget) say otherwise. Plus, between rich cafeteria food and all the pastry tasting, I’d rather not fast track myself to sickness. Dining out feels more special when it’s social, so I’ve reserved it for weekends with classmates. The best part? I don’t feel FOMO because I know I have months to experience a lot of what Paris has to offer.
My latest masterpiece, tomato soup with grilled cheese. And toast and jam on the side LOL.
Stay in touch with loved ones – calls, video chats, texts – whatever it takes to stay connected.
A Tired, Happy Heart
By the end of each day, I’m exhausted and desire nothing more but to put my feet up on the couch. But it’s a good kind of tired – the kind that comes from learning, growing, and feeling like I’m fully experiencing life. I feel younger, more rejuvenated, and eager for whatever pastry school, and life, will throw me next.
I arrived in the City of Lights around noon of February 2nd. My Uber driver was fantastic — he came right to the spot where I was standing with all my luggage driving this massive van. I was praying that whatever vehicle Uber sent me today should just be spacious enough for all my suitcases (because imagine fitting my suitcase marked HEAVY in a Prius). Thank God. And Thank God he helped me with my heavy ass bags, even though he said “Oooof” in a tone that I assume is the universal language for “Oh my god, woman, what’s in here?”
Yes, I know I overpacked. I wanted to be sure I had all my creature comforts if I was going to live in another country so I basically packed EVERYTHING. In fact, I packed so much, one of the TSA agents who x-rayed my luggage commented to his coworker, “Damn, did she pack her whole house or something?”
First off, sir, no one asked you. Second, I could be moving to another country, which I am, so I basically needed to pack A LOT. Judgy-ass-TSA-mothertrucker….
Anyway, back to the excellent Uber driver who navigated through all kinds of traffic heading to Paris. It was a weekday at noon, and the traffic was still insane. Overall it took about an hour to get to my arrondisement.
Pro Tip: The best option is to take the RER (train) to go to the city, but if you need to take a cab and you’re lugging around tons of luggage like me, it’s better to use Uber or a taxi app called G7. Both apps give you a fixed rate when you book, and you can avoid getting scammed by random taxi drivers all calling out “Madam? Taxi? Taxi? Madam?? Madam??” as you exit the airport.
Madam? Taxi?? Taxi, madam?
Honey, I’m Home…
I got dropped off at my apartment and had to figure out how to use the building’s call box. Each apartment building has their own security code with numbers and letters that you need to know before the door can open for you. I also realized that I was staying in the first floor, which in France means one flight of stairs. (In the US, first floor = ground floor. )
Did I mention I overpacked? Even though it was just one flight of stairs, hauling big suitcases up those rickety steps was not ideal. But I finally made it inside my apartment.
I wish I could say I immediately felt at home. I did not.
The heat was off, the curtains were shut, and that one plant by the window was so dead it had basically turned into dirt. Also, things needed a little bit of extra cleaning. But, I managed to unpack and find homes for everything. Praise rental units that actually have enough storage space so you can organize your things.
My view from the couch when I got everything settled. (Not seen on photo: dead plant.)
After I puttered around for an hour, feeling somewhat settled, I realized I was feeling nauseous from a combination of lack of sleep and food.
My First Grocery Store Trip
My second mission now was to stock up on groceries. And horror of horrors, there was no coffee in the unit. For a caffeine fiend like me… that can be a dealbreaker. Yes, I’m exaggerating, but caffeine withdrawal is tough for me. Plus, I just LOVE the ritual of making coffee in the morning. Or in the afternoon. Or in the evening, because honestly, if I can get away with it, I would probably drink it all day.
Google Maps helped me locate the nearest grocery store, and off I went.
After picking up everything I needed– including coffee, ingredients for chicken noodle soup, some oranges and chocolates — i headed to the self-checkout.
Pro-tip: While American grocery stores will let you grab individual produce and either weigh it on self checkout or tell the cashier how many you’ve got (like three carrots), in Paris, you apparently have to weigh your produce in the section, print a sicker, and scan the barcode on the sticker during checkout.
Side note, don’t do what I did and stare blankly at the employee when they start speaking rapid-fire French to you until they finally give up and say “Vous comprenez français?”
To top off my stressful shopping experience, the machine wouldn’t take my credit card , and I had to scramble to pay in cash. Carrying cash with you is a must!
After finally paying and making the walk back home, it dawned on me that I was alone in a country where I could barely understand the language.
Chicken Noodle Soup
The whole awkward experience at the grocery store made me shy away from dining out that night and interacting with any French-speaking population in the foreseeable future. Instead I decided to cook myself some chicken noodle soup– for a few reasons. One, cooking relaxes me and makes me feel at home. Two, there’s nothing more comforting than soup on a cold winter day, especially when you’re jet-lagged and feeling inadequate due to language barriers.
I wish I had taken a picture of my soup because it turned out to be one of the best I’ve ever made. I used French butter to saute the veggies and opted for leeks, garlic, carrots, and onion instead of the usual mix with celery in for my mirepoix. It felt so warm and cozy to prep, stir the pot, and feed myself something hearty.
Not going to life, I was already feeling homesick by Day 1. I knew it was just a temporary feeling through. Discomfort is something to embrace — logically I know it’s part of the growth process. Still, it didn’t stop me from missing home, missing my partner, missing the ease of communicating and expressing myself.
Why again did I think this was a good idea?
Day 2
Day 2 turned out to be MUCH better than Day 1. I still only got three hours of sleep the night before, so I’ve been running on caffeine for the last few days.
To help myself adjust, I forced myself to get out and explore. Instead of staying inside, I soaked up some sunshine and walked around the neighborhood even though my body just wanted to be in bed. Honestly if I didn’t push through, I would have slept from 1 PM to 10 PM on my first days and there’s no fun in that right?
Sunbathing spots for everyone.
I went to Jardin du Luxembourg, I sat by the fountain and watched people soaking up the sun like myself. I treated myself to some decadent hot chocolate and did more people-watching.
The one time I passed up coffee and chose something else.
Oh and bird-watching too. (The birds here are definitely some characters!)
Sassy boy.
I also stopped by a plant shop to replace the dead plant in the corner of my apartment (which I’m beginning to think was the source of my bad juju on the first day). This cute little thing called out to me, and I’ve since named him Plantypus — he’s my new apartment companion. I also chatted with the plant shop owner (me in my broken French and him with his better than average English), and it was surprisingly fun. He told me how to care for Plantypus and asked where I was from.
Plantypus has taken over dead plant’s old pot.
I walked some more and found a shop that sells only meringues. Naturally I grabbed a bunch of macarons and got the employee’s recommendations for flavors. (Spoiler: They were all delicious.)
I’ve been trying to hold off buying sweet things as I will have a LOT of these at school, but I could not help myself with these.
Next, I visited Parc Mountsouris, a lovely park where I sat on a bench and saw some cute interactions. A kid kept peeking and smiling at me shyly while his father wasn’t looking. An old lady tried to yell and catch up to a couple who dropped their umbrella without them being aware. Unfortunately she could not walk as fast as they could and they also couldn’t hear her as they were listening to music! So I did the reasonable thing being a younger able-bodied nerdy do-gooder and picked up the umbrella and ran after the couple to return it.
The old lady thanked me and said more things in French, and I apologized for my limited French. She smiled and switched to English, saying “Thank you for doing that. I was trying to call out, you know, but they couldn’t hear me!”
Enjoying the last rays by a bench before the sun sets.
On my walk home from the park, I discovered a very long avenue specifically designed for walkers; where the path was wide, lined with lamp posts and trees. It made me appreciate the thought they put into making their city beautiful and walkable.
Day 2 was me wandering around aimlessly, with no agenda, and stumbling upon some great shops and hidden gems in the neighborhood. I had a handful of sweet interaction that made me feel a little less far from home.
Paris definitely felt a lot more friendly today. 🙂
I’ve come to realize what a luxury it is to reconnect with my creativity. I know not everyone has the opportunity to do this, especially if they have a full-time job and are providing for a family. For me, my mind was constantly preoccupied with work responsibilities, with anxieties from what I still needed to do and how to perform, coupled with dividing time for chores around the home, time spent with my partner, for family commitments, and for myself. No matter who you are, sometimes the day will always be too short. If I wanted to really live a full life with creativity, I had to intentionally carve out time for it.
Like a lot of jobs out there, my job was paying the bills but failed to fulfill me. And isn’t that a familiar story? As soon as my eyes opened and my feet hit the floor, my mind was filled with ideas I had if I truly lived life just for me, but instead I had to fire up my work laptop and deliver results for something I failed to truly care about. I felt like I was wasting time, living as a corporate drone for decades now, and I couldn’t see myself doing this until retirement. The prospect filled me with misery and regret and now that I am approaching my late thirties and have been in the corporate world for almost two decades now, I knew something had to change and I had to act while I still could.
Removing Fear and Welcoming Flow
So I bit the bullet. I resigned from my job. As soon as I did, the creativity came easily. My writing just flowed. My ideas were endless, and my imagination was the most lively it has ever been in years. I realized that a lot of my mental capacity was devoted to making more money for the shareholders of every company that I ever worked at.
Why did I wait so long to allow myself this change?
The answer of course, was fear. Fear of leaving the security of a stable job. Fear of relying on “the arts” and “creativity” to make ends meet. The voices of doubt, heavy with judgement and disappointment, were loud. They came from my parents, friends talking about the artist lifestyle, society’s definitions of success.
After years of ignoring these signs from within me, these creative impulses, and sometimes even voices, I finally realized that no one can define success but me. No one can live my life but me. So I made the choice for ME. Just ME.
Not because society told me this is what successful people should do. Not because this is the fastest path to get money and be in an “esteemed status” among peers. What a load of crock that programming is anyway.
So yes, this might be the most incredibly selfish thing I’ve ever done and I mean selfish in the best possible way. It is freeing to finally do this, and it makes me wonder how many people with incredible talents never pursue their dreams because of the narratives they’ve been told as children.
When I resigned from my job, creating came easily. I didn’t have to divide my time to think about spreadsheets and metrics. And to be a little dramatic and use a metaphor here, my life previously felt like a movie playing in black and white. As soon as I said “I quit” to the kind of life that failed to cultivate my soul, the colors flowed back, easily. As if they’ve just been waiting for me to stop blocking my own self from this happiness.
One of my first watercolors when I started studying flowers.
Balancing With Practicality and Planning
Practicality still plays a vital role of course. Nobody romanticizes the starving artist trope anymore. Art and creativity suffer when basic needs aren’t met, and the reality is, we need the financial stability to support our passions. It’s impossible to create your best work (or even some kind of creative work) while battling hunger or desperation.
That’s why I didn’t just quit willy-nilly. Of course I’ve been devising a plan for years, but I just didn’t know when I was going to do it. I was inadvertently making an exit plan so I could pursue a dream eventually. To ensure I’d have a roof over my head, that I still had warm meals, and the security still of knowing the lights would stay on. Reconnecting with my creativity meant creating a foundation where I felt safe and supported. That means having the ability to give The Man the finger with the semblance of a back up plan. That means not alienating your support system, like your family and friends for the decision you’re making. We all have to make it easy on ourselves as much as we can. Only then can we truly devote our full bandwidth to the work we want to pursue.
Embracing Joy and Curiosity
Creativity itself is a joyful pursuit, for me, it’s a practice of curiosity and wonder. It’s about asking, “What if I try this? What If I mix these ideas? Oh, what’s that?” and about giving myself permission to explore without judgment. Throughout my life I realize that I’ve been experimenting with things I never imagined: with writing, with dabbling in watercolors, with eagerly volunteering to bake desserts for potlucks.
One of my favorite recipes to bring to a summer barbecue, a pavlova.
The process itself becomes the reward. Every time I approach a new project with curiosity, the day is inspired, and I feel more alive. I feel grateful to have the chance and the time to do this more now. I feel appreciative of the mind that allows these words to flow, the fingers that allow me to write, the life experiences that allow me to create something in a particular way, using particular things, feeling particular emotions.
It’s not about achieving perfection or any kind of result anymore. It’s about finding joy in my act of creation. Even when something doesn’t turn out as planned, it’s still fulfilling for me to have brought it into existence. Each creation is a small step towards allowing my true self to come out.
Inviting Community and Connection
One of the most unexpected joys of this journey has been the sense of community I’ve found along the way. When I opened up about my creative pursuits – like my decision to study pastry in Paris this year – people responded with encouragement and shared their own dreams. It felt as though giving myself permission to live with authenticity also inspired others to reflect on their own passions.
Creativity thrives in connection. Sharing stories, collaborating on projects, and exchanging the novel, the weird, the interesting ideas with others have expanded my world in ways I didn’t anticipate.
Reconnecting with my creativity has been a transformative experience, filled with challenges of course, but also immense growth. It’s a reminder to me that life is meant to be lived fully and richly – with purpose, passion, and fulfillment. This path may not be the easiest, and it may not be for everyone, but right now, it’s the one that feels the truest to who I am.
Have you ever felt a little nudge deep inside—more like a pang of longing? Or maybe the weight of dreading every Monday morning, knowing that a deeply unsatisfying corporate job awaits? That was me for years. I’d hear the occasional whisper in my head suggesting it was time to shake things up, to make a change. But I ignored it. Stability, security, and doing what was expected seemed more important. I had responsibilities to others, and chasing a dream? That was for whimsical, artsy types or people born with a silver spoon, right?
Yet here I am, writing this from a place where I’ve said yes to that whisper. If you’ve been wondering whether it’s time to pursue your passion—whether part-time, or full-time if you’re ready—here are some signs I experienced and how I finally recognized it was time to follow mine.
My ideal Saturday morning.
1. I Felt Stuck and Unfulfilled
For me, it started as a vague sense of dissatisfaction. I had a good job in tech—a role many people would envy. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that life was passing me by, one monotonous workday at a time. Every day felt like running on a treadmill: I was moving, but I wasn’t going anywhere that mattered.
It wasn’t just work. That sense of “stuckness” seeped into other areas of my life, even though I had so many good things around me. It was like I was surrounded by abundance, yet something crucial was missing. I craved something creative, meaningful, and deeply aligned with who I truly am.
Did I find joy and purpose in what I was doing, or was I just going through the motions?
2. I Can’t Stop Thinking About My Passion
For me, baking was always an escape. I remember being in my early 20’s, looking forward to Saturdays when I could experiment with desserts. I’d lose hours perfecting recipes, and the process felt magical. Baking wasn’t just a task; it was a sensory delight—the smell of butter and sugar, the joy of watching batter transform in the oven, the pride of creating something from scratch.
Even when I wasn’t baking, I was watching videos, scrolling through recipes, or imagining what it would be like to run my own little café. I pictured experimenting with flavors, designing a cozy space, and creating pastries that brought people joy. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it wasn’t just a hobby—it was calling me.
What activity made me lose track of time? Be in the flow? What brought me genuine joy, even when it was challenging at times?
Cinnamon rolls are one of my favorite things to bake. Probably because the rolls are a vehicle for all that yummy cream cheese frosting.
3. I Kept Getting Signs from the Universe
Sometimes the universe doesn’t just whisper; it nudges. My nudge came when I was laid off from my tech job. It was a moment of upheaval, however, I saw it as the universe making space to welcome something better in my life. There have been multiple times like these in my life, when I’ve lost a relationship, a job, or a current situation I was too comfortable in. And at that time, the loss felt huge, but ultimately it became an opportunity for me to reassess my priorities, and to welcome something better.
The signs didn’t stop there: there were compliments from friends about my baking, articles about people pursuing their dreams (maybe, if you’re reading this, consider it your sign!), a book about a woman’s journey in the culinary world, youtube recommendations about bakeries… and that unshakable urge to do something bold.
Once I decided to entertain the idea, I felt this growing sense of excitement—a joy I hadn’t felt in years. It was a world of difference when I only had my tech job to look forward to day to day.
From then on, it was as if the universe was slowly smoothing my path so I could walk through, it was opening doors for me so I could have the momentum I needed to pursue this new adventure.
What were the patterns or coincidences in my life pointing me toward a new direction? Was I recognizing them when they came?
4. I Realize Life is Too Short to Wait
My turning point was a moment of clarity: one morning, I woke up and realized I’d been holding myself back. It was all that fear stopping me from making big moves. Moves that would bring me joy and fulfillment. There was fear of judgment, fear of failure, fear of the unknown, fear of disappointing your loved ones…
I realized that I am not getting any younger. I’m at a point where I feel pain in my knees when I run. Where I feel disconnected from all that Gen Z slang. I saw myself in the future, lamenting at the end of my life that I wish I could have done all of the things I dreamt to do when I was a more agile, more energetic woman in my 30’s.
The fear never leaves, but it does get quieter because something else grows louder in my head. Ideas, visions of the future if I were successful, having fun pursuing my dream.
There never was going to be a perfect time. I could have kept postponing this but I didn’t want to anymore. The “perfect time” in my fear-addled brain may mean waiting forever.
Did I feel ready in a day after making up my mind? Oh no. It took took months of research, planning, and even then there were days that self-doubt would come and try to convince me to stay in my comfort zone.
But it was tiny little steps at first, from researching pastry schools, to looking at where to live, to now getting my student visa for France…
Those small steps snowballed into the adventure I’m on now, heading to Paris to study pastry arts.
On my deathbed, which would I regret more? Trying and failing, or never trying at all?
5. I’m Finally Ready to Say Yes to Myself
One of the hardest parts of pursuing a passion is giving myself permission to do it. For years, I’ve cajoled myself into thinking that my dream was frivolous, impractical, even selfish. But eventually, I realized that living authentically and pursuing what lights me up isn’t selfish- it’s necessary.
What’s more, taking the steps to run after this dream has made me be a better person. I’m noticing that I’m more joyful, more loving, more present, and more accepting–not just of me but of others around me too.
I’m realizing as I go through this journey that manifesting a dream means constantly saying “yes” to yourself, over and over again. It involves the universe constantly asking you “Do you still want to do this?”
“”Research pastry schools?” YES. “Pay this application fee?” YES. “Schedule an interview with the school?” YES. “Apply for a student visa?” YES. “Look for places to live in?” YES. “Tell your family you’re taking this up?” YES. “Tell your manager you’re quitting in a couple of weeks ?” YES.
Over and over again, the universe asks me, and it’s still asking me everyday if I still want to do this. I persist and say YES each time. Most of the time I am confident and it’s a resounding YES. Sometimes, I go through days of fear and anxiety, and question whether I’m crazy. It helps to realize that this is quite normal for anyone to go through. I still say YES.
Am I ready to prioritize my happiness and take a leap of faith?
Baking has always been more than just a hobby for me; it’s been a way to connect with myself and others. Preparing ingredients, searching for recipes, firing up the oven – these were all things that grounded me and connected me to the real world. Food has always been my love language. Nothing made me more satisfied than seeing a recipe turn out well and sharing it with my loved ones, experiencing their delight.
I believed that if there were a reason to work hard at something, it would be to create delight for myself and share that with others. That was baking for me – it was chemistry, it was magic, it was beautiful.
I wanted to make a key lime pie but all they had was regular limes. So, just a regular Lime Pie. Still tasted delicious though.
Tech Layoffs: The Turning Point
Back in January 2024, I got laid off from a very cushy remote job in tech. I was fortunate to have savings and a nice severance package, which gave me the space to truly question whether I wanted to stay in the business or pursue something else.
They say that in our lifetime we change careers at least seven times. That idea always stuck with me – a lovely reminder of the impermanence of what we do for a living. We’re meant to experience different jobs, different people, different homes, different environments,. And we make the best of it.
After the layoffs and a difficult conversation with my partner about where we wanted to be at that time, I spent a day in a rut. I cried from frustration that I wasn’t where I wanted to be. It felt like I was banging my head against a wall.
The morning after, however, I woke up refreshed, and something clicked the moment I opened my eyes. I remember it like it was yesterday– sunlight was streaming in, birds chirping– and I realized that I had absolute freedom in this world to do whatever I wanted. I could follow my dream, something I’d never even shared with anyone before because it felt too frivolous, too impractical. I’ve always been practical, the good student, the person who jotted down schedules and saved for a rainy day. My mom had hammered it into our heads that stability came first, and you could only get that by working for a corporation.
So that’s what I did.
Fast forward to decades of being in corporate, I had quite forgotten about this dream. But with the layoffs, perhaps it was now time to pursue it.
Why Paris?
I’ve never particularly fantasized about Paris, but I have this thing about never half-assing something I really want to do. If I wanted to learn about baking, pastry, and culinary arts, why not go the epicenter of pastry–Paris? From buttery croissants to intricate patisserie creations, it’s a city I’ve always known to celebrate the art of baking like no other.
Studying in Paris isn’t just about learning recipes – it’s about immersing myself in a culture that prides itself on craftsmanship, creativity, and the tradition of food.
So I came up with a plan. I decided on a school. I wrote down my budget. I wrote down the timing. I have planned for projects extensively before, but nothing got me as excited as embarking on a pastry school adventure in Paris.
As I did my budget back in May 2024, I came to a realization that the next classes in the most prestigious pastry school that I wanted to attend were not going to start until Feb 2025. I also came to a realization that I needed more money. Pastry school and Paris were not going to come easily. I remember asking the universe that I just need an easy remote job to pad my savings.
…and the universe answers…
Once again, the universe answered me with a great opportunity coming along. I went back to work in September 2024 at the same tech company that laid me off(!) with a higher salary(!!) and a better work life balance (!!!) so I could further pad my savings to support my dream.
The Challenges and Doubts
Today I handed in my resignation letter at work. A few people seemed confused, I could tell. Why leave a lucrative career for something you’re not really sure about? Was I crazy?
Sure, there were moments of fear, moments where I wondered if I was making a mistake, if I would regret leaving the stability I’d worked so hard to build. The stability of my job, my relationships, my city. But even though though doubts crept in, the excitement of embracing my creativity, following my intuition, and stepping into the unknown has outweighed every concern. I realize that following this journey means consistently saying “yes” to myself. I’ve been living to work, but this year is the first time I know that I actually worked so I can live.
The voices that say “no” or question in a negative manner are silenced, and all I can hear is “Yes, yes, yes. Go do that thing you’ve always wanted to do.”
The Dream
As I prepare to embark on this adventure, I have a mix of emotions–excitement, nervousness, and an overwhelming gratitude. I’m grateful for the courage to take this leap. I am grateful for the support of my loved ones, they are the biggest cheerleaders. And most of all, I’m grateful for the chance to pursue a dream that feels authentically mine.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my thirty-eight years, it’s the scariest decisions that are often the most rewarding. Here’s to chasing dreams, no matter how big or small – and to the adventures waiting for me in Paris.
My first foray into making making choux pastry. Let’s just say there’s room for improvement.
The Wren's Journey 