Students in class at the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park. Claudio Papapietro for The Wall Street Journal

HYDE PARK, N.Y.—On a recent afternoon, 10 students stood in a science lab surveying the results of hours of experimentation: a row of pale roast chickens.

The students were using special ovens to control moisture levels when cooking the birds. They learned the ways that moisture levels—and temperatures—inside a normal oven vary widely as water evaporates from the item being cooked.

"It's crazy that we eat food every day and have been eating and cooking food for years and we really don't have a great understanding of it," said Kristin McGinn, a 23-year-old student from New Jersey as she scribbled temperatures and times into her notebook. "I'm kind of excited to be one of the pioneers."

She is in the Culinary Institute of America's new culinary science program, which started earlier this year at its 2,900-student campus here. School officials are hoping the degree will become a cornerstone of a new model for culinary education preparing students for jobs in the food world—in the kitchen and beyond.

Professor Darryl Mosher teaches at Roth Hall on the campus of the Culinary Institute of America. Claudio Papapietro for The Wall Street Journal

It has been a rapid evolution. Skills that barely registered a decade ago have now become essential. The new science major—and a spate of similar programs at culinary schools across the country—comes as the schools grapple with big changes in how food is prepared and presented for a more demanding and knowledgeable consumer.

For decades, the culinary-education model centered around master chefs and their apprentices, who were expected to quietly study, absorb and obey. Now, students are encouraged to question why things are the way they are.

At the same time, students raised on popular TV cooking shows like "Top Chef" are pressuring schools to loosen traditions, especially in areas like dress codes.

Other students complain the Culinary Institute is changing too quickly. This spring, students at the CIA held a protest, arguing that the school wasn't upholding high enough standards.

"We're trying to make high-quality chefs, not just another TV personality," said Andrew Asistin, 25, a student at CIA who participated in the protest.

He criticized a move away from a grueling introductory class that kept students standing all day for six straight weeks of classes, which he called a better approximation of real-life conditions. He also decried a new admissions policy: Previously, students needed six months working in a kitchen before they could enroll; now. experience in a front-of-the-house job like waiter or restaurant manager also counts.

Mr. Asistin and other students also fretted about high educations costs to train for an industry that traditionally has had mostly low-paying jobs; tuition, fees and room and board at the college run almost $120,000 for four years. Mr. Asistin estimated he would owe $35,000 when he graduates this September.


School officials say entering students' test scores and grades are just as high as before, if not higher. The broader admissions requirements, they say, reflect a wider array of job choices.

Competition has certainly grown: In 2009, there were 191 culinary schools accredited by the American Culinary Federation. This year, there were 273 accredited schools.

Jobs also are growing. In 2013, the restaurant industry was projected to generate $660.5 billion and employ 13.1 million people, according to the National Restaurant Association. That's up from revenue of $569.6 billion and employment of 12.4 million in 2009.

"The breadth and scope of employment opportunities in the industry today is substantially different than it was 20 and 30 years ago," said Hudson Riehle, senior vice president of research for the National Restaurant Association. At the same time, he said, "Because the industry is so competitive, the knowledge base of the culinary staff has to be substantially higher now than at any point in time."

This new world of cuisine often pays much better than traditional jobs. Research chefs, who work in national restaurant chains or develop products for food companies, earned a median income of $90,000, according to a 2011 survey by the American Culinary Federation. By contrast, a line cook—a traditional entry position for a chef—earned $23,000 and even an executive chef earned just $66,000.

Other culinary schools are boosting their science programs as well.

Joliet Junior College in Illinois is building a $50 million facility that will include a kitchen dedicated to a new science program. Kendall College, a private school in Chicago, will be offering a new course in molecular gastronomy, a burgeoning field that uses science to dramatically transform food, including converting solid foods into liquid spheres.

Although the flashy techniques can draw attention, some see a potential downside. Richard Blais, who graduated from the CIA in 1998 and rose to fame as a competitor on "Top Chef," is identified as one of the foremost practitioners of molecular gastronomy. His chain of burger restaurants, Flip Burger Boutique, features milkshakes made with liquid nitrogen.

But he noted: "It just doesn't sound good when you're trying to go out to dinner with a few of your friends and someone wants Mexican food and someone wants Italian and someone says, 'How about science? Let's go eat molecules.'"

Administrators at the Culinary Institute of America said they were also wary of identifying their new program too closely with molecular gastronomy. Still, those techniques are employed in the campus restaurants. One dramatic dessert features cake elevated over a bed of dry-ice pellets, dried fruit and citris peel. When it is served, waiters pour hot tea over the pellets, sending waves of fragrant steam across the table.

The goal of the new program isn't to fuel a fad but to empower chefs to make smarter choices, said Provost Mark Erickson. "Deeper knowledge of science allows a chef to be more creative, more exacting and more effective in what they do."

As the administration was developing its new science program, some researchers at the school decided to test one of the most basic elements of cooking: making stock. Accepted wisdom held that a clear stock, simmered at 85 degrees Celsius, was the standard.

But when professors tested out 99 degrees Celsius, it tasted better.

Mr. Erickson's eyes widened as he remembered the incident.

"Now we're saying, 'Jeez, if even stock is questionable, what else isn't true?,'" he said. "Let's find out."

Write to Sophia Hollander at