On Cooking - A Review in Life

So this is something that I’ve been wanting to break down for quite a while. I’ve spent 12 years in the Culinary, or, “In the Industry” (Which is a term I hate because so many people stupidly abuse it, it’s got the same taste as calling myself an “Influencer”) and about 5 years ago I burnt out. Hard. A chapter that ended with me leaving the industry ‘for good’

But now I’m back. So I want to look at what brought me to this point and express some thoughts that might help me really look at how I feel about The Return. But first, the Review.

I was 19 when I entered into the Kitchen life. My Step Father got me a job as a Dishwasher at a Casino with the hopes of “getting my foot in the door” with the expectation that I would eventually work toward a Slot Tech or someone who does pay-outs and get those mad tips.

Little did he know the cogs that he set in motion.

Dish washing was an interesting gate-way for me. The Casino was 24hrs so it was my first taste of shift work, a half hour commute from my small town into the ‘big’ city (I say ‘big’ because I now live in Ottawa that is almost 3 times as big as where I came from, so. Perspective.)

And I look back on Dish washing fondly. It had the usual cast of eccentric characters; A genius with a mental disability that was a result of a bad motor cycle crash, a lifer, an ego trip/chief (shot caller, y’know the type, pushed their way into the leader position) and a handful of others that were largely forgetful, or didn’t last long. It was hard, dirty work but it was a great pay given that it was a Casino.

I remember it well because I spent a full year doing it with incremental standardized raises and the day I capped out on my wage I was instantly bored, empty and lost. Which for a 19/20 year old usually resulted in angry lashing out or ignorant behaviour. Then there was a busy night, I’m sure the kitchen staff was short and I was watching them waiting for work to come in and one of the guys looked over to me leaning and watching and said something along the lines of “Here I got something for you to do, we need some fish filleted”

Which I didn’t realize what a big deal that was at the time, he pulled me around back, showed me how to do one or two, let me do one or two then handed me 15 more and said “go nuts” I look back on that now as hilarious because who the fuck gives someone with zero experience a fish to filet.

But it turned out I was good at it, almost a natural, and I liked it.

I am habitually someone looking for something that I’m naturally good at, I’m not the “Invest in my skills” type of person. I wanna pick up a pen and draw a masterpiece with no previous experience Thumbs up

Eventually after continuing to double down and work Dish/prep someone said “Hey you should apply for the cook job that’s up!” That person’s name was Fenn. A friendship that would evolve like a bad relationship and carry on well past the point of being rotten and borderline abusive.

Now this isn’t a point I look back on fondly, I look back on it with a lot of regret, but I evolved and changed. Never-the-less it must be put under the microscope to give people an idea of where most angry cooks come from. If it wasn’t for very few people in my life, I could have been an asshole ego trip.

But I worked a govt job as a Cook, got introduced to drugs and alcohol and rent was still cheap in London. So I had too much money and no life experience. Eventually I got to the point where I was smoking an Ounce of weed every 2 weeks (if not every week) and drowning in video games and chronic masturbation. Basically anything to escape all the things that I didn’t want to face.

I was in my early 20s, indestructible and no body could tell me what to do. Not even myself. My dental hygiene was non-existent due to the fact that I was still passively suicidal due to my past and I’m certain that pressing my face against a bong and filling myself near-constantly with carcinogens didn’t help but to make the situation more aggressive.

But back to cooking. Like I said, I was arrogant and aggressive but I was SO lucky to work with some great people. There were people I didn’t ‘get’ but I admired. The lifer in the dish pit was so content to just get his pay, work the day and go home. He was locked in and didn’t have to prove shit to anyone. Something I’ve never been able to achieve and always been jealous of. Then there was Luke, a chill cook that worked his ass off and didn’t really say shit. One day he snapped at me about something, I’m certain I was being arrogant or bitchy and he just turned on me. That was a turning point like “Who the fuck am I to make this guy angry at me?” And Mike. Mike was like the father I never had, he teased the fuck out of me for every little thing that I was apathetic about. If I didn’t care he bugged me about it until I cared. He’s a big part of who I am today, I carry his lessons with me daily. I always thought he was just fuckin’ lazy but he was so skilled and just chillin’

If there was something that Mike didn’t want to do, I was the one doing it.

While I was still new in the kitchen he was the Lead (assigned stations and stuff like that) and he saw something in me, or at least I think he did, I’m not totally sure haha. But he constantly put me on new stations and within a couple of weeks of being a cook he made me run the line. He had me moving too often to get comfortable with any one station, just constantly challenging me. Well when I ran the line I was good at it and I didn’t know it, I was just doing what needed to be done and organizing and that is something that would pretty much become my entire career. Running the line.

I remember one time with Mike specifically, I came in stoned as fuck with Fenn. Mike was there cutting onions and he was so. fucking. fast. and I always admired that so I just watched him for a minute (Or 5 or 10… I was real fucked up) and I just focused on everything, how he was holding the knife, the onion, how he was moving his hands, the way it was set up… it’s written in stone in my mind. It was fucking poetic. I still try to achieve that speed and I’m quick and good but he was just a whole ‘nother level. Eventually Fenn came up and pulled me away like “Dude you’re gonna give us away!” which was hilarious because we were easily two of the biggest pot heads there.

But this was all at the start of my career, there was a lot of anger, and aggression and un-earned ego. It was a place I learned a lot, but not a place I’m proud of who I was. Mike now refers to me as his “favourite project” and “the project he’s the most proud of” so I can carry that with me.

I’ve always been super dependent on people being proud of what I’ve achieved. It’s never for me, it’s always what other people think of me and I think that’s something I struggle with a lot about the industry, or at least struggled with. I was always looking at the title like a title to be worn on your sleeve and compare it with others. It was always a dick measuring contest of what title I had and how other people reacted to it. Sometimes I feel like it’s not the other people I want to make proud of me but my parents and even still they aren’t proud, or they are but they express it in perverted ways of constantly telling me that it’s not sustainable with a family or when am I gonna get my papers (Red Seal, aka Chef title) it’s a bizarre internal battle of what it means to me and what it means to everyone else. Am I a Cook? Or am I Just A Cook?

I worked at the Casino for 7 years. Around the 5th or 6th year Fenn got fired for attendance (the only reason anyone got fired there) and went off to another place. We kept in touch and hung out all the time to play vids. It was a hazy time. I was bouncing from living situation to living situation like a toddler in an inflatable castle. In Summary I was living with Besties then I got sick of their shit so I moved out onto to live with my brother (Which is a whole fuckin’ entry on it’s own), then that went south as Brad told my brother that his g/f was fucking nuts. Now he’s got two kids with her and their on again off again alcohol fueled merry-go-round of drama never ceases. After that we got another place with more of his friends, but one friend was taking the bill money for booze and that ended poorly, so I moved out on own into a ghetto ass location where people regularly tried my door to see if it was unlocked, then I moved in with one of the previous roommates from my brother’s place and he went fucking bonkers and started to accuse me of bringing friends over to do laundry and weird shit like that. During that time of chaos I got a girl knocked up and she wanted an abortion which I did not handle well as I was not anywhere near the state of mind I needed to be to get through that. That was also the girl I lost my virginity too so that gave me a nice sexual complex. So Then I moved out on my own again, downstairs neighbours were loud and the landlord was constantly telling us to watch our hydro usage (Which is illegal according to the then landlord/tenant act) So I cut my losses and gtfo of there and moved in with Fenn. Which I eventually fucked up by bringing a girl into the situation (The EXACT same mistake my brother made with his g/f and Brad like shit… learn a little why don’t ya) Then Fenn and I didn’t talk for a year or two until I messaged him being like “Bro, just gimme my pot lids” and eventually we mended and re-connected but I don’t think he ever fully forgave me for fucking that situation up and I don’t blame him, it was stupid but it was what it was. Then I moved into Princess with Jackie low whistle That was a great place, I ended up moving back into the place with Pam but it wasn’t baby safe.... but back to the timeline, after Princess… Morgan… hmmm… I’m not exactly certain what happened after that… I know I worked at the University during that time… and I needed to move closer to the University… It was before Emily… OH I think I lived on Central during that time. 420 Central, I shit you not. It was a big apartment building where Fenn and a couple other cooks from the Uni worked so it was a box hole in the wall where we all hung out, played vids, drank, smoked and experienced life.

Okay back to cooking. After Fenn left the Casino it wasn’t as fun, I was getting angrier and angrier at the shift work and the way they ran the place. I had people fueling my anger and pushing my buttons and I was getting more and more aggressive with no logical reason for it. Eventually Fenn invited me to come work with him, there was a job opening and he knew I had what it takes. Before that though I remember a review with the Chef of the Casino and he said “You tend to take on other people’s problems and make them your own and that’s no good” That’s something that’d echo though the rest of my life. But (Jesus I’ve been typing for like an hour)

I remember the Interview for the Uni. It was Keeler, the then Chef. Aggressive was an understatement but I asked him “What do you think will be my biggest challenge here” and he was like “the pace, definitely the pace” and he was not fucking kidding. I was not prepared to move that fast. And working at a bar with university kids inflamed my alcohol abuse. Within my first week I was too hungover to work and the GM lost his shit. I was certain I was fired and I was supposed to have a date with Emily that I cancelled because I was certain I was unemployed but Fenn had my back and called in sick too, claiming that it was dirty lines of something with the beer, something he passionately believes to this day but it wasn’t. It wasn’t at all. It was the Weed we smoked after. We were drunk, sure, but we were FUCKED after that joint. You’d think that would have been a turning point but the next 5 years there were borderline alcoholic behaviour ruined whatever reputation I had hoped to build. At least with an inner circle.

While I worked my way though the place, I got used to the pace and eventually became really good and really reliable (With occasional outbursts of drinking too much and getting sick) Eventually Keeler lost his job as Chef and became a Catering Manager and Fenn became Chef, then I became Supervisor and AKM within a couple of years. There was a lot of learning there, a lot of interesting people and at some point it was like family but I was plagued by my own impostor syndrome. I never felt I deserved the role of Supervisor, or AKM, I always felt like the other full timers were better than me and knew more than me and I just didn’t deserve any of it. I was good, but was I the best?

As time went on, Fenn tried to get me to play the game and join the boys club but when I couldn’t handle my booze or didn’t fit in at the parties they wanted to take me to the divide started to appear between us. Our Culinary evolution was going down two separate paths but neither one of us wanted to admit it. I could have developed so much differently if I had the balls to leave but comfort is an addictive drug. Toward the end of my time there I started to realize that Booze and Drugs weren’t for me and my body couldn’t handle it. So I started to distance myself from those influences. Then Rebecca happened. Hot, thick, with an attitude that could peel paint with the sheer heat of her pride. but GOD she was fucking boring. And by then I was well and dysfunctional. Like REALLY fucked up. I was living a life of near constant escapism. I worked so that I didn’t have to be at home, so that I had to focus on work, not my teeth, not my health, not my mind, not anything but work. Not Rebecca, just work. I was running full steam and running out of track, fast.

And everyone knew it but me.

But I had My Team.

At some point Fenn and I split up the work, he did Days, I did Nights. He came in at 10 and left at 4, I came in at noon and left at midnight if I was lucky. But we’ll come back to that.

For a couple of years I took charge of the night shift, I didn’t hire these kids so I can’t take credit for that but they were my kids. They were my family, I had to protect them and guide them and take care of them and they took care of me. It’s -to this day- some of the happiest days of my life. That team was the light in the darkness. I hated working the lunch rush, it was disorganized, chaotic and angry. But 430 came and those full timers left and my impostor syndrome faded as a bunch of 19-24 year olds took the line. It was about teaching, and helping, failing and getting back up again. I grew SO much during that time, but it wasn’t enough to prevent disaster, there’s somethings you just can’t prevent.

During that time there was a guy. Nick. Quite guy, nice, loved music, a common theme through out the kitchen. One weekend (we were closed on weekends) we all went home and Monday I got a call.

Nick was Dead.

It was the first time I stopped in my tracks on the way to work. I was lost. I didn’t know what to say but I was great at nothing if not escaping so I came into work and I worked and I worked and I worked. I remember. Sitting down with Keeler going over the staff list being like “We need to call these people and tell them what’s up, is that something I should do orrrrr?” and I remember, with shame, hoping that he would take care of it.

He said he would.

He did not.

This was the first time I failed my team. One that I wear on me and will carry with me for the rest of my life. I should have called them all, I should have cried with them, I should have healed with them. But I didn’t. I cut off and just worked. Then, for the next two weeks, as people came in and asked “where’s Nick?” it dawned on me, one by one, that no one knew, and no calls where made. And Day… after fucking day, the line broke down. There was no talking as people found out that their family member died, there was no talking when they found out they missed visitations and funerals, there was just wound after wound being opened and ignored because we had work to do. One guy had a Panic attack on the line and had to step off for a half hour to go in the washroom to collect himself.

“So should I call them orrrrrrr....” That will echo through my mind for the rest of my life. I should have grabbed the situation by the balls and manned up. Shoulda’ Shoulda’ shoulda’ I hate how that was handled and in the next manager meeting I brought it up without pointing fingers and they all fucking sat there talking about how “They were to blame” the GM, the Chef, everyone took the heat but Keeler. He kept his little weasly mouth shut and didn’t say a god damned thing during that meeting. I wanted to loose my shit and throw my chair. It wasn’t about the blame, it was about Nick, it was about my team, my fucking family. And all they could do was think about themselves.

Fucking bullshit.

But time went on, the team graduated and another team grew up from the ashes, this came to be the team that would make me know I was done. This was the pinnacle. The Dan’s, the girls, everyone was on point, everyone was the best of the best. We pulled numbers that the day shift could only dream of and I ran the way I wanted to run it. By this point I was sick of the toxic nature of the Kitchen, I was sick of the Ego, the yelling, the anger and the ego. I wanted to be the change in the discussion. I wanted to be different than all the other kitchens. When my people struggled I wanted to help them, not just sit there and yell at them. Something no one else agreed with but we kept 15-20min bill times most of the time (Obviously some nights were just shit shows, it’s how she goes)

And then my second biggest failure came and I knew, later, that I was done. I didn’t want to be a part of this anymore, I was disgusted with myself and I had no right to be in the kitchen, to be in charge of these people, this family deserved better.

Rebecca and I had been together for around 3 years by this point. She was with me through the Nick and so much else. We had just bought a house together so you know we’re near the collapse. And I had a Migrane so I couldn’t come in. By this point I was coming home around midnight or 1. I’d be done around 11 and Rebecca would drive to come get me, I’d pound as many beers as I could before running out to the car (Sometimes throwing up on the way because chugging and running is a baaad idea) but I’d get home around 11-12, tired as shit, burnt out, half drunk and ready to just sit there and do FA. Barely a relationship for Rebecca. Regardless! Get home late, wake up at 8am, see what I missed on the order, go in early if a day shifter called in sick because Fenn was un-reachable (His phone “didn’t always get texts” Etc) so Day shift usually contacted me knowing they’d get a reply, then I’d deal with whatever or be glued to my phone when there wasn’t anything wrong “HOW?? There must be something wrong and I just don’t know it!?” My anxiety was at an all time high, Every day walking in was walking on eggshells just seeing what I was going to walk into. I was creating my own destruction.

To the point, I was sick one day. Rebecca, the Dan’s and I think Nicole was working, plus Dish. And I remember being in bed, and waiting for 10pm. Waiting for the shit show of texts to begin and sure enough. 10pm came around and I got a text from one Dan “Please never take a day off again” and then came Rebecca’s text. She was fucking Livid. She came home and she was furious, not at me (but eventually she would be) but mad at Fenn for how he acted, he yelled he screamed, he couldn’t keep my line together, couldn’t keep it going like I do, he didn’t know how to guide my family, he just yelled and wondered why that wasn’t working. I ran a short line, I knew what it took, he was always used to having me on his Grill during lunch, I was used to not having a grill guy, I was used to doing 3 or 4 things at once, I was used to helping Fryers and Sautee while doing everything else. If someone got swamped, Rebecca was my second pair of hands, she was as good as me and I knew I could rely on her. I really didn’t treat her as well as she deserved.

But that night she came home raving about going to HR and how inappropriate the whole night was. I was sick and just sick of her voice and her anger and she wanted me to go to HR on the Chef and throw him under the bus, which is something akin to… what’s that thing when you stab your queen in the back… treason! It was Akin to Treason. Like the worst thing I could have done.

So I took Fenn’s side.

I was so ashamed.

On some level I recognize that I wasn’t there so I really couldn’t do much but I could have supported my family rather than the hand that feeds. So I tried to calm Rebecca down and I can almost guarantee that this was when the relationship died, if not sooner. I was a coward that night and that was the breaking point.

I went in the next day and talked to Fenn about what happened, he blamed me, of course, but I told him there was talk from the Team about going to HR and he should figure out what the fuck he’s gonna do about that. He wanted to know who was going and I wouldn’t say but it didn’t take a genius to know it was Rebecca. He thanked me for telling him, shut the door then eventually ran to the GM to talk about everything. I don’t know what happened but Dan and I talked after that and I apologized on Fenn’s behalf saying that we’d work on it and fed him some bullshit lie.

Fuck.

That was the beginning of the end. By that point I was working 120hrs pay periods and just getting nowhere. I was killing myself, I was toxic to those around me, I was fading away into work and little all else. Then Rebecca split up with me and that was the rebar that broke the camels back. At this point Allen had told me that Fenn was coming in around 10 or 11 every day and around 4 he would be all “ah I’ve been here all day, I’m so tired, you got this man?” and I figured, he’s the chef, of course he’s here all day, poor guy, I’ll take this on my shoulders”

But when Allan told me that I started to look at the payroll. No night shift full timer was under 100hrs. No daytime full timer was over 85hrs. The poison seed was set and I fed into it. Much to Allan’s delight. He reminds me of Mike but younger. He liked to see shit get stirred up in people. So one day I looked at Allan and said “I’m gonna quit today” and he was like “woah wtf” and I said “Yea but I’m gonna start a fight with Fenn first, we’ll see if he gives a shit what I gotta say”

It was noodles and sauce. I had a 4oz or 8oz ladle in a sauce that should have a 2oz ladle and Fenn barked to get the right ladle in there for proper portioning and I was like “Yea but by that logic we should portion the noodle cuz if you’re not portioning that then why would you portion the sauce that goes on the noodles (it was pad thai)” and he straight up told me to do what he said and stop arguing with him. About what I expected so I noded slowly at Allan and said “that’s it, I’m done” Fenn eventually left the line and I walked into the office and printed off my two weeks notice and quit.

In the moment he was ‘shocked’ and ‘never saw this coming’ It was right after Rebecca and I broke up and he said “I understand, too many painful memories here” at this point I was well and uninterested in the place and just want to get out so I said “Sure, something like that” (2hrs of typing)

Looking back on it, I’m almost certain he smiled a bit when I handed it my notice then covered it up quickly. I’m certain that they were throwing more and more and more at me just to get me to quit. They wanted me out and I don’t think they expected me to keep going as long as I did but I did, and I can take pride in that… I guess.

My life self-destructed and the turning point was a night where I was drunk. Sitting on my Kitchen floor with my knife in front of me, crying, talking to Jackie over text and my Step-sister over messenger, and I don’t know what I said but it rang some bells and she told my mom to call me and talk to me, I don’t know what time it was, it’s hazy but I remember crying on the phone. I had no one, I had nothing, my own father kept changing what he was saying about helping me out and helping less and less every time we talked about it. I was done, I was going to kill myself that night if my mother hadn’t called. She knew. She talked me down, said she would be there.

She and Jackie and my step sister (in Australia) were the only ones there for me that night. Everyone, EVERYone else had abandoned me that night. Or at least that’s how it seemed. As oft it does when you hit the bottom. I vowed to be done with culinary that night. Or as best I could. I was done and never looking back.

There was a couple nights where Fenn would text me but it was almost non-existent except to tell me a month after I quit that he hired 2 new full timers and everyone was at 80hrs. It was such a slap in the face. But he invited me to go out drinking once I got back on my feet, by this point Pam and I had been dating for a bit, a couple of months at least, it was several months removed from quitting and I got ready, all done nicely up and ready to see an old friend and he bailed on me to go drinking with GFS reps. I looked like a fucking fool in front of my new g/f so I explained everything to her about culinary, I gave her the full story and she just sat there and listened. I tried to contact Fenn a couple of times after that, once I knew I needed to make some extra cash and figured I could pick-up some part time work but he never replied and stopped talking to me completely ghosted. I don’t know what happened and I suppose I never will but when I look at myself and who I was, I’m not sure that I’d want to keep in touch with me given all the shit he’d seen me go through.

So that’s my history of being in the Culinary Industry. The rise, the fall, and the crash and fucking burn-out.

And now I’m back.

But That’s for another Entry. Because god knows your eyes are probably bleeding if you made it this far.