The first job I got, while attending culinary school, was for the Bank of California as a cook for their Executive Dining Room. The Chef, Bob, ran the kitchen for the employee commissary and the dining room. He was a nice enough fellow and tolerated the newness of my techniques. You see, I had just started my studies and the needle on my skill meter had Continue reading “NOTHING MATTERS, EVERYTHING MATTERS”
THE FRONT ROOM
When I was ten or eleven, my parents took my little sister and me to the Front Room for dinner. Our front room. The family, in our house, in the East Bay front room. We, my little sister and I, were told to go upstairs, clean up and put on the nice clothes that my mother had laid out for us. Then we were told to come downstairs at exactly 5:30 for “Fancy Dinner.” Wow, fancy dinner? I really did not know Continue reading “THE FRONT ROOM”
FRIEND AND PHO
Life is about experiences. Ones we enjoy in the present, then again in the remembering, and yet again in the sharing and the retelling. Years ago I volunteered for an organization called Rebuilding Together (RT), formerly known as Christmas in April. Every now and then we called it Christmas in June, or July or sometimes August. You see RT is an organization that, once a year, helps the elderly and those in need repair their homes so that they are safe and clean. Many times I have gone in to replace entire kitchens and bathrooms. Other times we would just Continue reading “FRIEND AND PHO”
WITH PRIDE
When I think of my sister I remember two distinctive things. One, she taught me how to spell Wednesday. “Wed-nes-day” she said. The reason I remember this so well and so clearly is that the brief interchange shocked me. Why? Good question. You see I grew up in a family with five children and my sister is five years older than me. At dinner we sat on opposite sides of the table and we rarely spent any time together, not even fighting. I guess it shocked me because it is most likely the first memory of anyone helping me with a challenge. The second distinct memory I have is when I was 17 or 18 years old. She had moved out, gone to college and gotten a job. She asked me out to dinner. This is unique because, like I said, we rarely spent any time together. I was flattered because of the attention but also because I was doing this adult thing: Continue reading “WITH PRIDE”
WHAT THE TRUCK?
“Do you have a job yet?” The voice on the other end of the line asked.
The year was 1991, I had recently graduated from the California Culinary Academy and had just, two days prior, returned from a month long driving tour of Europe with my buddy Dale.
“No.” I said, with no apparent alacrity, anticipating the crush of credit card debt that was headed my way.
And so it all began, the call that changed the direction of my life. Within a week’s time I was cooking for none other than Continue reading “WHAT THE TRUCK?”