I love to cook.

And while, no, I don’t always love all the hassle of meal planning or going to the grocery store, I love the feeling of having a really amazing meal come together.

Cooking for my family is how I show my love.

So a few nights ago, as we sat around the dinner table devouring the most delicious medium-rare filet mignon paired with roasted Brussels sprouts, crispy baby potatoes, and the most amazing homemade pesto sourdough bread (if I do say so myself), my daughter Annie blurted out, "Mom, you should be on one of those Gordon Ramsay shows. You're such a good cook!"

To which I instantly replied, "Well, I love to cook, but I'm definitely not that good."

And then I said the thing my family has heard me say at least a hundred times: "Honestly, I still wish I could go to culinary school."

Now, if you know me at all, you know I'm a huge Gordon Ramsay fan. Like, huge. He is, without question, my number one celebrity crush. No one else even comes close. (And yes, my husband Chuck knows this. We joke that Gordon Ramsay will someday be my third husband—which is obviously just a joke. Mostly.)

On my days off, I binge watch shows like Hell’s Kitchen and Top Level Chef like it’s my job.

Chuck can’t understand the obsession. “How can you watch these shows over and over?” he’ll ask, then exclaim “they’re always the same thing!”

But for me it's not just the chef-crush thing. I love to see all the different things they cook, and how it all comes together.

It's the whole fantasy—the drama of the kitchen, the creative freedom, the joy of creating beautiful food from scratch. Even now, almost 30 years later, I still dream about it.

Because, fun fact, when I was 18, I actually didn't want to go to college. I wanted to go to culinary school. But when I told my dad as much, he laughed it off and flat-out refused to even consider the idea.

"Nope. You're going to Calvin, just like I did.”

And that was that. 

I went to college and studied Political Science, with minors in Gender Studies and Dutch. 

(Quite possibly the most useless degree of all time.)

But I've never really let go of the dream.

So when I said (yet again) that maybe someday I'll finally go to culinary school, Chuck looked up from his plate and said, "You should. Shut it all down and follow your dream."

And for just a second, I imagined it.

Walking away from the business I've spent the last 15 years building. Closing the laptop. Hanging up the coaching sessions and launches and team meetings. Enrolling in culinary school instead.

I imagined myself with a white apron and a French knife, dicing onions like a pro and baking sourdough on purpose instead of just obsessively for fun.

After all, if Julia Child could start her cooking career at 49, why not me?

And then I laughed.

Because of course I'm not shutting it all down. Not today, anyway.

But it got me thinking.

Why do we fantasize about walking away? Why do we daydream about quitting it all and starting something totally different?

Sometimes it's because we're burned out. Sometimes it's because we feel trapped.

But sometimes? Sometimes it's just because the pressure of keeping it all going is a lot, even when we love what we do.

And maybe the dream of a different life doesn't mean we're ungrateful or unhappy. Maybe it just means there's still a part of us that wants something more—or something simpler, or quieter, or just different.

Maybe those daydreams aren't a betrayal of the life we've built. Maybe they're just a reminder of the parts of ourselves we've tucked away.

The truth is, I love my business. I love what I do. I love helping women transform their lives and their health. I love helping entrepreneurs build amazing businesses. But that doesn't mean I don't sometimes wonder what it would be like to create something with my hands instead of my head. To measure success in perfectly risen bread instead of conversion rates.

To have a job where the worst thing that can happen is you burn the soufflé.

Suzy Kassem once said, "Doubt kills more dreams than failure ever will." Along those same lines, Neil Barringham wisely reminds us, "The grass is always greener where you water it."

In other words? Your daydreams aren't betrayal—they're insight. 

They're the little whispers that remind us who we are, what we miss, and maybe what we're ready to bring back into our life.

So no, I'm not dropping everything and running off to culinary school.

But maybe I'll take a cooking class. Maybe I'll keep baking ridiculously elaborate sourdough just because it makes me happy. Maybe I'll keep watching Gordon Ramsay reruns and dreaming about what might've been—not with regret, but with curiosity.

Because those dreams still mean something. They still matter.

And maybe yours do too.

And so my challenge for you this week is more of a question: What's your "culinary school"? That thing you catch yourself daydreaming about when life feels a little too heavy or structured or you're just craving something more?

Don't dismiss it. Don't feel guilty for thinking about it. Just listen.

What's it trying to tell you?

Maybe it's time to let a little piece of that dream back in.

Live with purpose, friend, and have an amazing week!

xoxo, Ruth

P.S. What's your version of culinary school? That totally random, maybe-even-a-little-unrealistic fantasy life you still think about? Hit reply—I'd love to hear it.

This week’s podcast episode…

What’s cooking in my kitchen…

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