Page 8 (1/1)

I had friends, and soresemblance to Tom Selleck (no idea), I did the opposite I flirted and flounced and enjoyed the shit out of my newfound eled hichever guy I set o down the sa from relationship to relationship with a kid in one hand and a Harlequin romance novel in the other, saddled with a usually in-the-red diner and waiting for the next man to sweep her off her Birkenstocked feet Uh-uh I had a career to craft

Which I did When ave me feedback, I thrived I sahat they saw--the little tweaks here and there toa technique To understand how a splash of chaht time could elevate a recipe, but if added only a moment later it would muddy and cloud an otherwise acceptable dish That was pure perfection I spent hours in those beautiful stainless steel kitchens, blending ingredients, playing with flavors, savoring the process: all the things you don’t actually get to do when you’re working in a restaurant kitchen

Though I knehat a diner’s daily grind was like, I believed that once you raised food to an art for an executive chef in a Michelin-starred restaurant--the goal of every culinary student--was not all it was cracked up to be It was staffing, and payroll, and ement, and critics, and reviews, and front of the house, and back of the house--and yeah, occasionally you got to get lost in your kitchen and cook So I foundfood, but convinced deep down that the restaurant life--that hectic schedule, cooking under constant pressure, never having any freedom--was not for me

But I sucked it up, enjoyed the opportunity to cook beautiful food while it lasted, and graduated with honors And offers Offers to apprentice and work in some of the finest and most innovative restaurant kitchens in the country, even abroad

But I kneouldn’t be happy It wasn’t glamor and fame I wanted, it was the opportunity to create I hated the stress of the day-to-day operations of a professional kitchen, so with souidance from a professor, I chose the quieter life of a private chef

It was the best decision I could have made There, I could excel, leta client tips here and there: tricks of the trade on how to make sure piecrust always came out flaky, how to caramelize but not burn onions, and how to carve a chicken In the age of the boneless and the skinless, people under forty had never learned the things that now only chefs and older people kne to do And I enjoyed the "teaching" aspect ofextra" I could offer toa private chef wasn’t just a luxury, but so all over the Golden State whenever the o, Monterey, finally settling in Los Angeles I’d always heard you learned how to say no in your thirties, soyes To a new job, a nen, a new experience Unless it was illegal (oing to happen), I rarely said no

I rarely returned to Bailey Falls, preferring to have my mom visit me out west I liked my life, I liked the new Roxie, and I was deterain

But while I sidestepped the stress of working with overbearing executive chefs and the dra aitstaff, I didn’t sidestep the stress of being solely responsible forin My livelihood depended alh I’d worked my ass off to build my business, I had no security No automatic paycheck every week No medical No dental No proht broughtacross the country to bail outbetween the lines

On day three I pulled into a roadside restaurant that proclaimed it had the World’s Best Pork Butts I was fa; every diner in the world had a claim to a particular culinary fame World’s Best Coconut Cream Pie, World’s Best Fried Pickles, World’s Best Scrapplethat last one belonging to our diner You don’t even want to knohat scrapple is; it’s about three rungs below Spam on the evolutionary scale

But I appreciated the way this dive threw their Butts right up onto the billboard, and I was hungry for soh to Kansas City that it should be good

It was good Sweetly spicy like all KC barbecue should be, the butts were shredded and piled high on an open-faced roll, the ht amount of chew, the flavors balanced perfectly

On the side? Burnt ends Find theht now for a plate of theht ss, ho in the air no rease traps were cleaned out And the diner ca that was almost impossible to find these days, but used to be a staple: a "Flo" An honest-to-goodness, pencil-in-her-hair, pantyhose-wearing Flo

"You want anything else, sugar?"

I smiled at the little old lady who had walked a million miles in those Reebok sneakers and never slipped on a ood Thanks for the recommendation on the cake; it was terrific"