Paths We Take II - Transitions Into Clarity

 I worked with John Smith at Cullen's in Clear Lake, TX for a time then hired him later when I was at Yelapa.  We made some kind of bond and have managed to keep in touch.  I asked John to share his story because I think that 'industry' people will be able to identify and hopefully get some benefit from these types of accounts.  We'll keep these up as the Order of the Chef continues to grow.  Please let us know your thoughts.  
Thank you, and (as John would say) Namaste.

...trailing off from Part I of this series, the story of a young man riding the restaurant merry-go-round continues as he decides that travel may lead him to a new place...

...West, where I knew nothing or anyone, and better than that no one had heard of me either. And thus started my tour as river-guide/camp-chef.  That lasted a season.  A non-nudity clause was introduced into the employee handbook, as well as another adressing non-fraternization with clients. I had made my mark.  Again.  So a short 18 hour bus ride back to Houston it was.  Again.  

A short jaunt to Boston.  To Colorado.  Then out of nowhere it was 2006.  And with my "charm" and "wit" I somehow landed a job at a stained glass collage of various, now defunct eateries back in the Houston medical center. And go-figure, by sheer coincidence they were owned by the same chef I started with ten years prior, back in 1996.  He, of course, didn't run the show. That was left up to the hands of 'Sanchez' Lopez.  Who, after hearing my fantastical story of travel and pseudo cookery, promptly hired me as his sous chef. Not only for one of the restaurants, but four of them.

My big break, I thought, and it actually was.  Just not a break for fame or fortune.  It was a break for the beginning of a path that I continue to this day.  It took about a week for chef to realize that I had talent, a work ethic, and a small amount of finesse, when I was sober, which started to be less and less often.  Yet he stuck with me.  He never stopped pushing me to learn techniques that I either had forgotten or never learned when I should have.  He began, upon looking back now, to show me what integrity and honesty and standards were.

Then, as I always seemed to do when there was any sign of success, I quit.  I thought we were done. Until three weeks later when he called me back to come work for him again.  I didn't stay long the second time either.  Yet, the seeds were planted. Watered.  Had begun to sprout.  I took some time off - out of the restaurants.To be precise, I took two years.  My desire and love of cooking never waivered.  My return in 2008 found me with a renewed sense of purpose and drive along with a new found sobriety.  

I started out again as the AGM of a corporate Mexican fast casual restaurant. That worked out for a very short time.  Not due to any slight of mine, rather due to the fact that three years earlier that sprout had become a leafed stalk.  A sapling.  And running 17 year olds to the point of passing out was not my idea of fun.  Also, in my spare time I was reading and making anything and everything I could get my hands on in attempt to get my style and chops back from being gone so long.  

Then came Yelapa, and the auspicious reconnection with an old/new chef/beginning friend...

 

Paths We Take - The Tale of A Wayward Saint

I worked with John Smith at Cullen's in Clear Lake, TX for a time then hired him later when I was at Yelapa.  We made some kind of bond and have managed to keep in touch.  I asked John to share his story because I think that 'industry' people will be able to identify and hopefully get some benefit from these types of accounts.  We'll keep these up as the Order of the Chef continues to grow.  Please let us know your thoughts.  

Thank you, and (as John would say) Namaste.

In 1994 Hugo Ortega walked me by the hand into HCC culinary dept. and introduced me to the chef instructor Charles Pyle.  That was the beginning of the beginning of my love of all things relating to food production...

Granted at that point, I was already a seasoned server that hung out more in the kitchen than than at my tables and, saw the wee beginnings of a fixation on whiskey, women, and late nights. Never did I once call in from the all night debauchery that ensued, a point of pride I carried with me for a long time-until I learned better. 

After a bit of cursory training and basic skills gained at the culinary department of said community college (all of which I felt beneath me, since I had already surpassed most in my class, just from having been in the industry for 7 plus years at that time) I had no idea what was in store for me. I found out the hard way that it was to be years of being beaten down by some of the top chefs in the city at that time-the names will remain with me so as not to embarrass or, perhaps more importantly, piss them off (again).  Even through the bitter years, their ways of instruction led me to where I am today, and for this I am forever indebted to them. 

Whether it be throwing sauté pans at my head, or wishing death upon me for being a minute late on a side item or entree, I still hadn't been broken. More on that later. It is not a good thing for an aspiring cook to go unbroken. It's a must that somewhere along the early path of a line cook that it happens. Looking back, it teaches discipline, focus, and a drive to become better. So, feeling stagnated in that arena of the restaurant, I made the decision to go back to the FOH.  

My decision was mainly due to the fact that at this point, seven years later, my drinking had turned its focus to other not so healthy "relaxation tools", which by nature, was the complete opposite of what the intended use for such substances was.  The internal lie had begun.  And the fact was that cash in hand every night was easier than cash every two weeks for procurement of what were at the time, necessary ingredients to function. 

From Hugo and serving food I bounced around from job to job. Playing in a band that got signed, so that pulled me even further down the scale with my original goal of being a good cook. And added to the drinking and other accompaniments that in my mind seemed to go along with the alcohol and lifestyle of a musician.  In '02, I decided that It was time to get back to the original profession of love that had brought me so much joy originally.  So, I headed to Dallas and worked with Tim Byres at Standard 2706 on Elm street, across from The Green Room and Trees.  

Chef drove me hard, he saw my potential and worked very hard to get me to see it as well.  Unfortunately, I didn't, or couldn't at that time. So, after a write-up in Texas Monthly about a dressing/salad that I had designed, and did not realize that when under the chef, that it was actually HIS food, I left. Once again, having not being broken, I felt slighted, and my ego raised its ugly head, and I and headed back to Houston again.  

Almost immediately I went to work at furthering my addiction for alcohol, and cocaine at this point, and the knowledge I had gained in Dallas I used to show my peers how "good" I had become.  Which was a farce. The little I had gained at Standard I used to feed my ego and once again feel "better than" my colleagues, only because I felt like a piece of spit shined shit on the inside. 

Of course my colleagues at the time of my return from Dallas consisted of a few 'base-head' cooks and like-minded servers. Not a whole lot of expanding each others professional aptitude, to say the least. With that in mind, I once again returned to the FOH because I had developed, over the past few years, the art of manipulating people. Not only the patrons of the establishments I happened to work at, the people I worked with, the management I worked for, but also myself, into believing any and all sorts of self created bullshit. I think I killed off five grandmothers, four sisters, two mothers, had fifteen car accidents - in short, I was a real piece of work. No one trusted me, including myself. Bearing this in mind. I headed out West.

STAY TUNED FOR CHAPTER 2...

Back to Reality

Hello, Readers!  First of all, thank you for taking the time out of your very valuable lives to read these various rants and raves of mine--I certainly appreciate you all!

Now.  Back to Reality...

I've managed to lock myself away into a cave for the last several months which was a great joy, a gift of the most immense magnitude and an abundant learning experience for me.

I'm a bird by nature, but I know turtles now.

I'm back.  I've recently rediscovered books, recipes and learning which I had been neglecting for things I somehow considered more important.  Thanks to an amazing support network and a bright and informative Universe around me I am beginning to take some giant steps forward into a marvelous future.

One day at a time.

Pastry.  The sweet side was always intriguing to me, although I rarely gave it enough attention to merit much result aside from the occasional experimental mishap or obligatory menu dessert.  Thanks to inspiration from a former associate and friend, Chris Leung (itssodericious.blogspot.com), I've been delving into the pastry files and testing some new stuff.  The Michael Laikonis recipe files recently released on michaellaiskonis.typepad.com (Notes from the Kitchen) have provided me an incredible foundation to begin exploring the world of 'Dolce' as I should have years ago.

brown butter poundcake, passionfruit curd, port and mascarpone (those are 'sambuca' microgreens...yum!)

I am excitedly prancing about the kitchen now with an ink-stained fistful of printed pages, c-fold napkins and protracted plans of epic proportion, eager to find a moment for a new experiment.  And am attending to my priorities as all responsible chefs should...balance, you know?

I seem to love blogging as well.  It has become quite therapeutic for me and I'm sure it will lead to a healthy addiction to writing in general.  Those who know me well will easily fall for that one :)

Pasta.  Although I've not seen this one really explode yet, I feel some carbon fusion building that may supernova under the right circumstances.  I feel that my current circumstances are ripe for this type of movement as I am in the tutelage of a masterful Italian craftsman who seems constantly inspired to reach new limits in culinary artistry.  Thank you all and enjoy.

tonarelli, jonah crab, uni, porcini and shiso

The City Life

I LOVE NEW YORK.

Sometimes its just pandered about sloaganishly as if the city were somehow coddled by the comfort that its citizens care.  Sometimes its genuine.  Of course, one can live anywhere and find it to be a wonderful or a horrible place depending upon that person's general inward satisfaction with life.  Its easy to find plethoras of issues within such a myriad wonderland as is this little wing of our universal fractal.

Its a hard city.

Sometimes, especially in the winter (which seems to have lost its general temerity this season), I feel a microscopic web like the veins of a dragonfly's wings spreading across and through my bones when I wake up and I have to get back to work after 4 hours sleep and 2 hours commute through cold, wet streets.  Walking, standing, waiting on concrete waiting blocks; and my days off are spent in an apartment lucky enough to have one or two windows which filter what little light trickles down the sides of the snowy cloud banks into a grey courtyard of concrete and air handlers and through a layer of solidified smog stuck to their once tranquil and luminescent surfaces. I love New York.

I love New York because she forces the positive out of people in such a way that only the truly stalwart of spirit are left behind and the city brims with greatness all the way to its industrial shorelines because the only people who actually enjoy living here are natural winners.  Competition is deadly.

I love New York because she leaves you no choice.  "Take me as I am, you miserable bastard," she says, "because I am a city generated from the purest fires of passion.  That is what makes you great."

One day, I'll leave this war zone of a city.  When I become complacent.  When I no longer have a drive to grow.  When I become satisfied with the view from the plateau that has become my life, then I'll quit New York.  Yet, even then I'll want a loft in the Financial District, a one bedroom in Tudor City or a little house in Bay Ridge with tenants who save me the attic apartment with a view of the harbor.  Heck, I'd even settle for a gritty studio in the middle of Brooklyn with a grey winters' concrete view.

I'll always take care of the city that has taken such good care of me because I'm sure that as long as I love New York, New York will love me too.

Reflections on Beauty and Value

I know I promised deets about the upcoming Theatre of Comfort Dinners in my last post...rest assured that they are on the way.  However, I do have a little detour from the fervor of foodiedom as I've had some insights over the past week that I feel it important to share.  I'm not sure how to approach this blog best as I have little experience with these sorts of things so, if this post is somehow wildly inappropriate then let me know.  I'll take it down.  I feel like this medium is a form of expression with a little bit of wiggle room and as a chef blog (I'm a chef) this may give you some of the meat of our real lives and let you know that we're not just food jockeys.  We emote.

One of the best things about having a mind rooted in the fertile soil of positivity is that no matter what happens, you can always see the beauty of it and you can always find something of value.  No matter what.  It is one of my many blessings in this life, for which I am extremely grateful, that I am surrounded by these positive, pro-active people.  When things look glum and I'm facing potential crisis (plural?), these people give me the perspective I need to see through the smog of doom and gloom that minds can so easily create.  The longer I'm alive, the more of these situations I seem to come across and perhaps one day I will find the key to creating that perspective more immediately.  Heaven knows I offer it to all manner of people around me whenever I can.  Sometimes its hard to take your own advice?  Anyhow, it feels great to have gratitude in any form; as long as it lives at the core of your being, you will remain free.

Beauty is reality.

Those freckles.  God's contribution to her subtle perfection, slightly twisted lips and the muddled scent of our blessed morning.  Beauty is the shape to which my hand conforms and its tender confirmations.  Beauty defies comparison.  It is boundless and timeless wherever and whenever it may be found.  Beauty is a gracefully opened hand of familiar form, a nurturing palm and a steady gaze.  Least of all does beauty expect or proclaim neither provision nor action.  She arises like the thoughtlessly shining sun.  Reaction-less she reflects all she receives, like the moon without effort or desire.  Like a prism she absorbs the harshest beam and diffuses it into a sparkling floral array.  She is this way on her innermost shore.

Value is clarity.

There is no common value but value through virtue, which is the least common on the shore.  Value is not a glistening steel reflection or a gemstone's turn and polish.  It is not the flickering ticker of the world's economic straw man.  Value is the shape of her hand and its subtle channels intended on their targets.  By its nature it defies expectation because it is boundless and timeless, giving itself wherever and whenever it may go forth into the world.  It is formed and passed by an opened hand, by and honest and gazing eye.  Value has shed its proclamations.  It only acts silently, thoughtlessly, pursuing without competition or comparison, seeing its own innate perfection reflected in the mirror of Creation.  Inside and out.  Bones to skin.  On the shore.

I can see the vast universe of beauty and value scratching at her surface, like so many of us.  What a struggle to deny ourselves such a gift as realizing our own beauty and value.  I express boundless and timeless appreciation for this amazing experience of love and life.  I have a newfound admiration and respect for the Malaysian and Australian cultures.  I have some of the best memories of my entire life thus far and a way to reference New York as maybe not such a hard city after all.  With someone like that to share it with, even the harshest environs can become a paradise.  But sometimes the timing just ain't right and ain't nothing you can do about it except keep moving and be grateful for the gorgeous gift that God lent you for the day.

These are the lessons that give me real perspective and allow my eyes the freedom to perceive her real beauty and her clearest, deepest value.  She will always be an incredible being and I will always honor the place within her where she and I exist eternally, at peace with our source.  Thank you, Doris.  Namaste.

The Discovery of a Chef

I believe that our nation's currently developing fascination with food is a sign that we are finally developing a culture of our own.  We have been around for over 200 years as a nation and, because of the entrepreneurial nature of our experiment, we have bent towards a reputation as masquerading mountebanks, cavalier capitalist cowboys and sponges for whatever culture serves us best momentarily and monetarily.  I believe we are growing out of this adolescent transience and emerging as fiery-eyed and battle-hardened young samurai with a burgeoning sense of identity and purpose.  Across time and culture, food has always been a defining factor of groups of people.  A way to tell what village you're from, what you put in your family's curry blend, how you tie your salumi, how long you soak your salted fish and with what, these are the things that signal who is family and who is foe.  Food is as vital to who we are and who we choose to be as sex or war.  It is a matter of life and death and we, as global citizens, are finally realizing that.  I hope.

I graduated from college with a philosophy degree in 2003.  Was supposed to take my LSATs and go to law school.  The family approved.  They would have given me a "free" ride because they supported these kinds of dreams and aspirations - after all, they were the ones dreaming them up.  I was sick.  My DNA donors lost their ranks because they no longer honored the moniker of family.  Thanks to a long time mentor named Charles Avants, who has far and away earned his rank, I went culinary-lock, stock and barrel.  My DNA donors rejected the assumption that in following one's bliss there is inherent and imminent success.  Of the living remnants, only my reluctant grandmother would prove truly assistant and I'm sure she would be beaming if she could be here now to beam.  Charles and my real family formed a support structure for me and will always exemplify how I want to raise my own.  The mission was set: use the culinary path to seek my enlightenment and to bring enlightenment to others.  I trailed off to New York in search of some magical land, streets paved in foie gras onto which shined lamppost rays of golden sauternes.

New York was the obvious choice for several reasons.  I had done a short stage (unpaid internship) in an amazing new Houston restaurant owned by Jean-Gorges Vongerichten who's worldwide operations are based in New York.  I had never even imagined food like that before.  Wow.  There were far more chefs whom I admired in New York at that time and they were setting trends and raising the bar higher there than anywhere else I could find.  I needed a huge fire under my ass if I was ever to have a chance at succeeding in this business and where better than the 'city that never sleeps'?  Logical reasons aside, I also felt this driving compulsion to go there.  Like some pied piper was blaring some lyrical melody in the core of the city and he somehow resonated its hypnotic rhythm all the way down south to the great state of Texas and lulled this southern gentleman into the streetlights.

Obviously New York will always hold a special place for me, although I can't see myself living here permanently.  It has brought me more lucky breaks than I can fathom including meeting here a woman who has impacted my life for the better in a most permanent way.  It has wandered me into many of its finest kitchens, even if just for a day.  It has hardened me against its streets of molten concrete in the summers, it has submerged me in its dank, rat-infested basement apartments and it has lifted me to the very pinnacle of nature's essence via perfect spontaneous views and burt sienna drenchings in autumn's leafy tears.

When I left China in 2008 I decided that Texas, rather than New York, would be the wisest choice as I was beginning to see family life as a plausible option, which concept I had not previously formed in my somewhat socially underdeveloped brain.  I spent the next three years looking for that plausible option.  By the time its potential became real I was already on to the next chapter of my adventure.  Back in the city of dreams.

Yelapa had been the culmination of many cultural culinary experiences including Texan, New Yorekan and Chinese.  I was blessed on many levels with a project to start from scratch with a minimal budget and no personal financial risk.  Score!  Rob put up the capital, Chuck and I did our respective parts to build the concept and an amazing team came together through an intense push of energy.  I hadn't worked that hard since my first days in the business and it was somehow invigorating at the same time as it was physically and emotionally draining.  We all poured our hearts into that place and it became a throbbing part of this young and vibrant restaurant movement that has now taken Houston by storm.

What an amazingly fertile ground we got into and at just the right time.  I was swept away by the accolades that came almost daily.  I began to really learn the value of people and also began to learn the true intimacy of cooking for them.  There are a ton of guys out there making amazing food, but I would venture that for most of you, there are only a select few who you allow the honor of making amazing food for you.  Cooking for others was a critical stumbling block for me until I got to Aurora.  Houston was very good to me, as good as I was to her at the very least, but she never brought the same luck as New York.  Somehow in Houston there were always strings.

Riccardo Buitoni and the Aurora/Emporio family have really tamed me somehow with their open and almost overbearing kindness.  The whole series of events since I arrived in New York on my second 'tour' has been really charmed by some new kind of freedom.  It is as if my doubts and insecurities are being scrubbed away at some angelic carwash and I'm being prepped for some cosmic auto show.  I feel truly blessed in a permanent way from the inside out (even though its things on the outside that seem to be doing the blessing).  I hope that my food reflects similar growth because then it will surely nurture those who really need it as it was always intended to.  The goal of cooking is to make people feel really well looked after and safe, for them to leave with a sense of peace and well being that they would go to their own mothers to find again.

And so here I am on the playground.  Throwing flavors around and doing my best to take care of all the people around me who take such good care of me. Thanks y'all and welcome to this Chef's Momentum.