On a recent Friday afternoon, behind their tablets and laptops at home, nine culinary arts students from FoodWorks, a vocational training program of the Maryland Food Bank (opens in new tab), logged into Zoom and listened intently as their instructor gave the latest lesson. On the menu today: food safety - proper cooking temperatures, types of thermometers, food handling, cooling, and storage. It is very important to master this content. Otherwise, you will not be able to obtain the important certifications needed to get a well-paying job after graduation.

The certification exam is just a few days away. Even as the clock ticks toward the weekend, instructor Monique Jordan ("Chef Mo" in class) is not letting her students off easy. Someone tell me about the two-step cooling process," she says, "and I'll tell you what it is. The class is silent and thoughtful. One student utters a partially correct answer. One student says, "You got half of it right. Answer the other half. More silence follows. Jordan says firmly, "Somebody help him. Someone please help him. A woman in the class gives the correct answer. Go ahead," Jordan says, smiling. Jordan smiles. 'Great.'

For many of the low- and moderate-income students in Jordan's class, the tuition-free program feels like their last and best chance at a rewarding career. Some participants were once homeless or incarcerated. Others are chronically out of work or have few jobs, and almost all have experienced food insecurity at one time or another; in its 10-year history, FoodWorks has served more than 300 Marylanders and helped more than 85% find work.

In December, Jordan, 41, a veteran culinary arts instructor and executive chef with a background as a Hollywood chef and competitor on "Bobby Flay's Throwdown," was named executive chef and culinary arts director for the program He was appointed to the position. [Carmen Del Guercio, president and CEO of the food bank, says Jordan is "changing lives." She revamped the program's 12-week coursework to make FoodWorks more competitive with neighboring culinary arts schools. She also designed and reinvented a hybrid version of the course, integrating materials from the nationally renowned online culinary arts curriculum to make it work within the COVID era. Two days a week, students study online. The other three days, they wear masks and learn important hands-on skills in the FoodWorks kitchen. Says FoodWorks Executive Director Tim Regan. We've been doing this for 10 years, and it's only since Moe arrived that we've become more professional. She has raised the bar for us."

Like other nonprofits fighting hunger, the Maryland Food Bank has been driven to the brink of death by the pandemic. The level of impoverishment is staggering: between March and the end of July, the food bank distributed 25.1 million pounds of food.

Census figures show that nearly 9% of Americans surveyed in August, or more than 22 million people, said they sometimes or often ran out of enough food to eat within the past seven days; before COVID hit, 1.5 million Marylanders were regularly suffering from food insecurity because they did not know where to get their next meal. As federal bailout funds from the CARES Act dry up and the economic fallout from COVID grows, Feeding America (open in new tab) estimates that an additional 1 million Marylanders will be displaced.

Jordan knows firsthand what it is like to suffer the gnawing pain of hunger: 19 years ago, as a junior instructor in the culinary arts department and a single mother of two children under two, she fed her daughter and son, put them to bed, and herself She fed her daughter and son, put them to bed, and sometimes went to bed without eating. Sometimes she skipped meals. Sometimes all I ate was cereal and milk," she recalls. Sometimes the only money we had was for day care, gas, and food for the kids."

It was hard at the time, but articulate. Jordan says, "I didn't like the feeling of not being able to provide." I remember thinking that I never wanted to experience the feeling of "not being able to eat again." I knew I had to work harder. I knew I needed to put myself in a position where I could earn a higher wage."

Jordan knew that further qualifications would improve her marketability and increase her base salary. So she obtained her Executive Chef certification from the Culinary Federation of America in 2000. Studying for the exam tested her mettle. The coursework was extensive and demanding, including nutrition, food hygiene, and business administration. Jordan recalls saying to her mentor: "I don't think I could do it. There are words in this nutrition book that I can't pronounce." She spent hours studying. On her first try, Jordon failed by one point. I cried," she says. But a few weeks later, she tried again and easily passed. I still remember that one point," she says.

Jordan's iron will goes back to her mother, a single mother and former parking enforcement officer in Wilmington, Delaware, where Jordan grew up. 'All the vegetables we ate growing up were canned,' she said. 'I never even saw asparagus until I went to school. Still, Jordan and her siblings never went to bed hungry. For Jordan's mother, feeding people was a way of life. After her shift ended, her mother worked at a local after-school program. The program did not provide free meals, so Jordan's mother cooked her own dinner. She would make her own dinner: huge bowls of spaghetti with marinara and pepperoni, or the famous macaroni and cheese. Says Jordan. 'People came to eat because they knew they were going to get a good meal.'

But it was the father of her best friend, the executive chef of Wilmington's famed Hotel du Pont, who opened Jordan's eyes to the magic and power of food. He used to feed us ratatouille," Jordan recalls. He let us taste the ratatouille," Jordan recalls. [The chef became Jordan's mentor for life. How he chose the freshest ingredients, how he grilled his steaks to perfection, and how he taught.

"Cutting corners becomes a mistake, and mistakes cheapen the brand.

Jordan took that message to heart. I'm hard on my students," he said. 'But I am also their biggest cheerleader. But I am also their biggest cheerleader. Some students have never had my back. They dropped out of high school and never went to college. No one made them do the hard work. I do. By the end of the program, they earned it. No one gave it to them."

FoodWorks alumna Tiffony Demory, 28, is the mother of four girls, ages 6 to 12, who live in Parkville, Massachusetts, in northeastern Baltimore County. After bouncing from one fast food job to another, Demory heard about FoodWorks from a friend. She applied and was accepted. But on her first day in January, "there was a little hiccup," she says. Demory was verbally abusive in class, so Jordan kicked her out. 'I can't have this negative energy. He told me, 'I don't want you to be cocky and mean, I want you to be willing and positive.'" Demory went home devastated. 'I had four girls who adored me. ......' She says.

A day or so later, Jordan invited her back. 'I was all ears and mouth,' Demory says. 'That's when I changed a little.' Hearing Jordan tell her own story shook something in the young trainee. Jordan incorporates personal anecdotes into his lectures, weaves in helpful tips on healthy eating ("When I make macaroni and cheese, I add butternut squash or pureed cauliflower"), and offers hacks to help students get the most out of their food budgets ( Jordan divides every ounce of meat he buys into smaller portions, dates and labels them, and stores them flat in the freezer to maximize space): "That's how I buy a little extra.") Demoli wanted to absorb it all. I was the queen of notebooks," she says. She was obsessed with getting all of Jordan's knowledge down on paper.

Demory's class was suspended in March for COVID; in early June, after a two-and-a-half month break, they regrouped online. By the end of the course, Demory had become valedictorian. That month, at a small graduation ceremony, socially distanced and masked, she tearfully thanked Jordan for giving her a second chance, to her classmates. 'She believes in you more than you believe in yourself,' she said. 'I started my catering business because of Chef Moe. I can never repay the motivation she gives me every day. This is my dream, my passion, my blood, sweat, and tears. I will never give up."

Jordan choked back her own tears as she listened to Demory's speech. 'I love seeing the brilliance of it,' he said. 'I sat where those girls sat. I was the girl who was kicked out of Catholic school, the girl who didn't understand. I lived in low-income housing. I tell my students, 'Are you going to live this sad sob story or are you going to live beyond the story? I want to bring out the greatness in them."

She does that. One zoom lesson at a time.

CORRECTION: The name of the American Culinary Federation has been updated.