One month ago I did something crazy. I made a decision that was poorly thought out and highly risky, and I made it blind to what the potential upside might be if things worked out well. And, while the wisdom (or folly) of this decision has yet to bear itself out, I can still tell you with certainty that it was the best decision I’ve ever made.

One month ago I quit my job.

Overlooking the Financial District as I write this article.

Let me take you back a little bit, and explain where this whole story begins. You see, for the past year, I’d spent my days working at a hedge fund as an equities trader in New York. That sounds impressive, doesn’t it? I had the job that everybody wants, and the sky-high aspirations of success to go along with it. But somewhere along my way to “making it”, my aspirations began to fall back down to earth. Six months in, I looked around me and saw how few of my colleagues had made it, and a suspicion over my chosen occupation was born. By my eighth month there, with little success to show for my time, my suspicions had grown so that I realized that the trading business, as I knew it, was largely a sham, and that my time and skills would be better spent elsewhere.

Only ten months after having moved to New York for my dream job, I was already looking for something new. I applied to jobs within the finance industry (as that was where my major and prior experience left me most hirable) for positions in compliance and analytics. Two more months went by, interviews came and went without offers, and my optimism that I might find something new began to dull.

Flowers sent by my family while I was dealing with a lot of stress.

In February of this year, my mom came to visit during New York Fashion Week. I ducked out of the office one day to meet her for lunch, and, as we began talking, lunch quickly turned into an entire afternoon off. The subject of conversation that prompted such extended discussion was the very matter that had caused me such despair of the past few months: my job. My mother wanted to know why I was having such difficulty finding a new job that I liked, and if maybe the positions I was applying for were part of the problem.

Mom: Why do you want to do compliance, Kirsten?

Me: Because, that’s what I’m qualified for. And I don’t want to do what I’m doing now, so that fits.

Mom: But, do you want to be an analyst? Doesn’t that sound… boring?

Me: Yeah. And I don’t want to do it. But what else am I supposed to do? This is kind of the hand I’m dealt.

Mom: Well… what do you want to do?

Million dollar question. Thank you, Mom, you asked me the question I never thought was relevant.

One of the million cappucinnos that I had to help me relax and come to a decision.

Me: I don’t know. Not this. I’m wasting my time doing this. I mean, if I really got to choose, I wouldn’t even be in finance. I wouldn’t be doing any of this. It’s boring, I’m not good at it, and frankly, the more I think about it, I think the whole industry is kind of a scam. It’s just… you know, I’m so unhappy with what I’m doing now, and if I want to really be happy in my career, it’s not going to be in finance. It’s going to be in something that makes me happy, that I care deeply about. Like the way I care about food, and cooking, and taking care of yourself, and how cooking can do that for you – how it can take care of you.

That’s where everything changed, in that conversation I had with my mom. My passion for cooking and opinions about food are no secret to my family, and so to her it made complete sense that I would make a career out of cooking – it’s what I’m good at, it’s what I love. Yet the idea that a creative career path, which offers no real security or predictability up front, was a valid choice for me had never existed until that moment there with my mom.

Taking the long way home through Washington Square Park after I quit my job.

Two days later, with my parents’ blessing, I quit my job. For the week following, my mood came and went like the tides. At the start of each new day, I awoke feeling liberated and enthused. My concept of what life could be expanded with each new thought. In the evenings, though, my enthusiasm retreated, and fear that I had made the wrong decision began to haunt me. But the glorious mornings continued to come, and my eagerness over all the new possibilities grew larger. That eagerness soon grew so large that it pushed out my lingering fears and replaced them confidence.

I have made the right decision, and my future is now mine to shape how I like.

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“Baby, I’m Yours”.
Click to hear our favorite band’s cover of this classic song.

Chocolate Peanut Butter Cheesecake

Adapted from Smitten Kitchen

Serves… a lot (2 for a week, or at least 12)

Note: I prepared the recipe as written here, and it was incredible. But, if I were to make it again, I would probably cut out the chocolate ganache topping. It was difficult to cut (shattering with each slice), and the cake already has so much chocolate in the crust and fudge layers that the ganache kind of just gilds the lily. But, if lily-gilding is your thing, go for it!

Note #2: I made my cheesecake in a 9-inch round cakepan. If you have a springform pan, I would recommend using that instead.

Note #3: You can bake this cake in a water bath, which promotes even cooking, though I found my cake to bake fine without this extra step.

I have to credit this beautiful photo, which shows the finished cake so much nicer than my own photos do, back to Smitten Kitchen.

Chocolate Crust

9 oz (255 g) chocolate wafers (I used Oreo sides)

6 oz (170 g) bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, coarsely chopped

½ cup (95 g) packed dark brown sugar

7 tbsp (100 g) unsalted butter, melted

Fudge Layer

1 cup (235 ml) heavy whipping cream

13 oz (370 g) bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, coarsely chopped

Cheesecake Layer

2 8-oz packages (455 g) cream cheese, at room temperature

1 ¼ cups (320 g) smooth peanut butter

1 cup (200 g) granulated sugar

¾ cups (180 g) sour cream

3 large eggs

2 tsp (10 ml) vanilla extract

Ganache Topping

1/3 cup (80 ml) heavy whipping cream

4 ½ oz (130 g) bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, chopped

Make the chocolate crust: In a food processor, blend cookies, chopped chocolate, and brown sugar together until finely ground. (You can do this by hand by bashing up the cookies in a paper bag and mixing them with the chocolate, very finely chopped, and the brown sugar.) Drizzle in melted butter and process until crumbs begin to stick together, scraping down the bowl as necessary. Transfer crumbs to a greased 9-inch cakepan. Evenly distribute crumbs along the bottom and sides (within ½ inch from the top) of the pan. (I find that keeping my fingers wet helps a lot here.) Chill the crust while making fudge layer.

Make fudge layer: Bring cream to a simmer in a large saucepan. Remove from heat, and whisk in the chocolate. Continue to whisk until chocolate is melted and mixture is smooth. Pour over the chocolate crust and spread in an even layer. Freeze until fudge is firm, about 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 350°.

Make cheesecake layer: Using electric mixer, beat cream cheese, peanut butter, and sugar in a large bowl until well-blended and fluffy. Beat in sour cream; then the eggs, one at a time; and the vanilla. Mix until smooth. Pour over the now-chilled fudge layer.

Bake: Bake in the middle rack of the over for 75 to 90 minutes. When done, the outer edges of the cheesecake will feel firm and dry to the touch. The center of the cheesecake (about the innermost 2 inches) will still be quite wobbly. Transfer cheesecake to a rack to cool slightly, the place in the fridge to set for at least 3 hours.

Make ganache topping: Bring cream to a simmer in a small saucepan. Off the heat, whisk in the chocolate. Pour onto chilled cheesecake and spread to the edges. Return cheesecake to the fridge for the ganache to set, about 30 minutes.

*To write on cake: Mix 1/3 cup smooth peanut butter with 1 tbsp softened unsalted butter and ¼ cup powdered sugar. Beat until fluffy. Transfer to a bag to pipe onto cake. I used a sandwich bag, rather than a piping bag, which is why my lettering looks so… homemade.