A lot of these things I’m writing are heavily prompted by my day-to-day interactions with my team and topics they trigger through conversation and sometimes just by me watching them work. They really are everything.Everyone loves to call the restaurant a family. It sounds noble, a band of
I used to think meeting your heroes was the thing that would change you, that shaking the hand of the chef whose food made you feel funny…down there, or finally getting yelled at in that kitchen and rubbing shoulders with those cooks, would somehow baptize you in purpose and
There was a stretch of time last year when I stopped being the first to show up — not physically, but in spirit. The team would be prepping, orders flying, service humming, and I’d arrive just in time to plug into something already in motion. On paper, that’s what
There’s a particular kind of quiet that only happens in a restaurant kitchen after the last plate goes out and the last guest leaves. Quiet. Not peace. Never peace. More like the silence of something that’s been wrung dry: bodies, minds, towels, pans, patience. The stainless steel still
The truth is, I didn’t plan to write this, at least not now, though I think about it more often than not and just can’t seem to put pen to paper or screen, as it were. I planned to cook, to lead, to feed. To build a restaurant
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