Kitchen Confidential

a good cook is a craftsman – not an artist. There’s nothing wrong with that: the great cathedrals of Europe were built by craftsmen – though not designed by them. Practicing your craft in expert fashion is noble, honorable and satisfying. And I’ll generally take a stand-up mercenary who takes pride in his professionalism over an artist any day. Whe

I gotta write this thing. But that’s not work, really, is it? It feels somehow shifty and … dishonest, making a buck writing. Writing anything is a treason of sorts. Even the cold recitation of facts – which is hardly what I’ve been up to – is never the thing itself. And the events described are somehow diminished in the telling.

The most important and lasting lessons I learned from Bigfoot were about personnel and personnel management – that I have to know everything, that I should never be surprised. He taught me the value of a good, solid and independently reporting intelligence network, providing regular and confirmable reports that can be verified and cross-checked wit

Bigfoot understood – as I came to understand – that character is far more important than skills or employment history. And he recognized character – good and bad – brilliantly. He understood, and taught me, that a guy who shows up every day on time, never calls in sick, and does what he said he was going to do, is less likely to fuck you in the end

As this, apparently, wasn’t unprofitable enough, they’d chosen the restaurant business as a way to lose their money more quickly and assuredly. From the get-go, Sammy, Dimitri and I managed to intimidate the partners right out of their own restaurant. At every suggestion from this novice triumvirate, we’d snort with contempt, roll our eyes with wor

A lot of his time was spent figuring out ways to make the restaurant run more efficiently, more smoothly, faster and cheaper.

I coddle my hooligans when I’m not bullying them. I’m visibly charmed by their extra-curricular excesses and their anti-social tendencies. My love for chaos, conspiracy and the dark side of human nature colors the behavior of my charges, most of whom are already living near the fringes of acceptable conduct.

I went for the money. The first chef’s job that came along I grabbed. And the one after that and the one after that. Used to a certain quality of life – as divorcees like to call it, living in the style to which I’d grown accustomed – I was unwilling to take a step back and maybe learn a thing or two.

What I learned at Tom’s was a sad lesson that has served me well in decades since: I learned to recognize failure.