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Week 4 The callouses on my knife fingers are still bleeding.  Every once in a while in the course of  my work day--and always at the worst possible time--I have to re-bandage and re-glove.  It’ll be a couple more weeks until they scab over and … [Read more...] about Running Away From Home Week 4

Continued To be a chef one should… …not be an asshole. I struggle with this.  When I’m in the middle of a bad service and the waiters seem like terrorists, I often times feel like saying something cutting to brush them back.  Waiter X forgets … [Read more...] about So You Think You’re A Chef (Part 3)

Again, much has been written on this subject.  If you’ve spent any time on Facebook, then you know that Cheffing Ain’t Easy. Hopefully, you scroll right by anything that bemoans The Life. They’re old and tired, the overly romanticized ten worst parts … [Read more...] about So You Think You’re a Chef (Getting Down to Brass Tacks)

Week 3 Last week started out with figurative tumbleweeds blowing across the dining room.  As my stalwart cooks reported for duty Wednesday afternoon, a heavy blanket of snow was turning Main Street into a scene from It’s a Wonderful Life. In a … [Read more...] about Running Away From Home Week 3

Week 2 Ok.  I survived.  And I actually don’t feel too bad, considering. Normally, a fifty-hour work week on hard cement floors would have me moaning around the house post-shift like a Monday morning linebacker.  But, for now at least, I’m still … [Read more...] about Running Away From Home Week 2

In a fit of frustration, I wrote a scathing and inappropriate piece for the short-lived L’Ecole Culinaire monthly newsletter back in 2012.  Fed up with student apathy, the excuses, the rampant absenteeism, the moans and groans during “Pig Week”—a … [Read more...] about So You Think You’re a Chef (Redux)

For the most part, our leaving Memphis was a non-story. And frankly we planned it that way.  It was tempting to make a big announcement, of course; maybe stretch out our impending exodus like a Kiss Farewell Tour into an eons-long ego massage full of … [Read more...] about Running Away From Home

My father was right—damn him—when throughout my childhood he pounded into my head the tired old adage ‘success is a results business’. Of course, he was gently pointing out that all of my futile dreams; the fantasy of playing drums for Rush despite a … [Read more...] about Grains of Salt