Chefsam3urai

We discovered “No Reservations” together while on vacation in 2005. I was in college and my sister was going into her junior year of high school. Our parents were pissed at us because we were spending the day on the couch watching this gruff guy talk about how amazing oysters were instead of spending the day out in the sun.

My sister was *so* enamored.

Cut to her senior year. As a surprise gift, I decided to take her to New York. She lost her mind; she’d never been to a city so big.

The only place she wanted to go was Brasserie Les Halles because he had been the executive chef there for ages, and we’d heard that sometimes he came out and just hung at the bar and drank and chatted with the patrons. We went and she ordered things she’d never tried before: escargot, steak tartare, and moules provençal.

When we left that meal, my sister turned to me and said, “That’s it, I’m going to be a chef.”

And now she is.

It hit her hard this morning, and it hit me hard, too, like it might when a favorite musician dies, when something that has been such a constant in your life, in the background, is just gone. His words gave my sister the courage to enter the restaurant industry, and gave me the courage to try squid, and snails, and not be afraid of the number of chili peppers listed on a menu item.

He was a loud mouth, and crass, and sad and brave, and he was very obviously hurting, struggling with mental health issues that are so pervasive in the restaurant industry.

This morning, my sister said to me, “You have no idea how many times I had to talk a friend off of that same ledge. Before they got sober, after they got sober, after a hard shift. And mental health in the kitchen environment is pretty much ignored. Everyone is affected. No one cares. And that’s where all of my friends are. Which is terrifying.”

It is terrifying, and I wish that all of those people could get the help they need. I hope that this serves as a reason for those people to seek help.

I have worked in so many professional, high end, exclusive restaurant kitchens, I’m currently working at one in Soho, London, and I have almost a decade of experience under my belt, which is a lot for someone my age. I’m a senior chef, and when some 19 year old greenie fuckboy has the gall to say “oh but it’s just pastry, it’s easy” and not think twice about it, it is honestly mind boggling. Because it’s happened so much before that and I’m starting to slowly realise there is an institutional devaluation of the field within the industry.

“Oh you’re just a pastry chef” like fuck you, asshole, I had to get an extra diploma to do what I do and you fry fucking chips.

Ask me to cook a steak perfectly and I’ll do it without blinking, but if I ask the average HEAD CHEF to make proper Choux Pastry which is one of the easiest to make, he looks at me like I’m insane.

It’s why Gordon Ramsay can have 20 people competing for the title of head chef on Hell’s Kitchen and you never even SEE a fucking dessert on the show, except maybe as a token novelty challenge or some shit.

It’s a field that isn’t considered a requirement for seniority. Like, you have to know every section before becoming a sous chef but I’ve had sous chefs tell me they don’t know how to scoop a ball of ice cream. Seriously?

Gnocchi is probably the easiest pasta to make at home, because you don’t have to worry about getting it super thin! It also feels like the fanciest in my lesbian opinion because you have tiny potato pillows.