I get frequent questions asking about my kitchen pedigree. My daughter used to ask me all the time where I learned to do certain things when she’d watch me cook.

Where it all started, who I worked under, training, inspiration.

“When did you become a chef?” Which I used to respond with “I’m not a chef”

Sure by definition I am a chef. To me it’s like calling someone a pilot because they had to land a plane to keep it from crashing into the side of a mountain.

I actually became adept in the kitchen in spite of myself. I had no urge or calling to work on the line in fact I’d wager to say it was the exact opposite. I hated working in the kitchen. When the km job at the Blockhouse was dumped in my lap I was as green as summer grass. I watched the line cooks and mimicked their motions, habits and procedures with no understanding of logic or purpose. So did most of the cooks working there for that matter. Sure I could grill a decent burger over charcoal, fry a fucking chicken tender and set a timer for a tray of bakers but that was all from previous observations of what the watching the line toil and observing some very bad habits at first. I could cook a meal for you but I never paid attention to as to why things were done a certain way.

I didn’t have any training under a chef or mentor I had literal fucking crackheads and line cooks who were as clueless as me. I learned by observation and curiosity. When I couldn’t locate a line cook at the Blockhouse I’d walk on the line and start my ticket. Grilling was easy as was the fry station. Servers made their own salads and desserts during lunch so I had been slowly acclimated into the system. Steak temps? I’d just eyeball the grill marks. As a km there I never created features or specials. Did even do a burger special there? Doubtful, I was too busy keeping the cooks from stealing cases of beer.

Other than some scratch made soups I watched Moe make I didn’t absorb much.

Didn’t care at the time. I was only doing my job. Rather poorly I might add.

But I became a solid line cook.

Steakhouse threw my ass on the line too. Didn’t like cooking there either. Small kitchen line, discombobulating actions, swinging dicks bumping into each other or going sideways in those narrow ass walk-ins. Expos barking ticket times along with microwaved black beans spilling out onto your face. I used to think microwaves were an integral part of the kitchen. We had three of them hoisted over the line going full blast all day long. It was a 90s thing I suppose y’all.

The damn heat from that grill. 5 ft of hickory wood blazing your face like you stared at the sun all morning. One day the hvac broke over the grill and never got repaired. Summertime your apron would smoke from the heat from the grill as all the grill bricks would slowly crumble over time. I held a thermometer in my hand one afternoon and it read 122°. I’d keep bar towels in the freezer to lay over my neck.

No passion in that kitchen for the first 10 years. I was a damn GM. Ain’t nobody got time for cooking. I walked around in pressed JC Penny slacks, starched button ups and dress shoes that I’d wipe clean with bev naps before talking to tables.

I did had procedures, food costs, recipes and specs hammered into my head like military training and during those 16 years I absorbed every inch of it. I ate that system up like it was bred into me. Once you get over the population of microwaves the AZ did fill me up with some solid administrative skills and a deep understanding of financials that grease the kitchen wheels. When the steakhouse was firing on all cylinders that kitchen produced some amazing food. I still remember all the specs

Shrimp tails down so not to burn

Crisp that chicken skin with diamonds before the flip and don’t fucking press it

Caramelize the ribs

I can still make that ridiculous sirloin marinade. The spinach and artichoke sauce is still my bechamel basis for cheese sauce.

The timing as to when I threw myself into the kitchen can be up for debate.

I hit my head fairly hard riding my bike and I went through a slurry of kms for about 2 years.

During that time my passion flipped. Maybe I was burned on getting my face melted by angry customers as opposed the hickory grill. I had to take the kitchen and run with it while being the operator. Kms were hard to find and I think I’d fired about half a dozen in a year so I started coming in early to do prep and set up the line. I took over the truck orders, reorganized all the prep sheets, par levels and procedures that had become outdated. I’d cook by myself on the line on slow days while prep got caught up or vice versa.

After about a year I absorbed myself into recipe books and write down daily feature ideas. I’d do weekly lunch specials that would eventually make up a quarter of the steakhouse menus. Happy hour specials, weekend features. The kitchen became my second home. If we were short handed I grabbed an apron and worked the line all night. If I were closing I’d jump on dish to help our dishwasher wrap up early so I could get my cocktail hour in before all the bars closed.

I was still very raw. The steakhouses were staunch on specs and procedures but it wasn’t chef driven. I could write a menu but I couldn’t orchestrate it the way it needed to be.

I could build a home but I wasn’t an architect.

When I became the regional guy I submerged myself into food. Food cost was outrageous so I broke down every menu item, every ingredient, every procedure, evaluated, reevaluated. I became a student to my passion. When I traveled I’d sit in Barnes on my downtime and grab a dozen recipe books, restaurant architecture, food and wine mags and I’d fill up notebooks with ideas, recipes and fusions of food. The more I studied and read the more all the moving kitchen parts started to make sense. Spices began to jump out and blend in my mind, kitchen layouts shifted. The last three years of my tenure at AZ I was full of useful data. I absorbed a full ass degree in food. This was my kitchen self earned MBA.

The steakhouses taught me logistics, procedures, finances and administration.

It also turned me into a solid butcher. I’ve carved more cows than 99.99% of the world’s population.

16 years worth

Went I broke up from the band and went solo I still had a lot to learn. Everything I knew I learned from the steakhouses and found it not to be applicable on all levels. When I opened Southern I still had three microwaves. All the steakhouses had three. I was just replicating what I had already learned. It took about a month before I removed two of them. We served our pudding warm so one was needed.

I could barely dice an onion. At the steakhouses we used dicers, slicers, buffalo choppers, robot coupes. They didn’t like free hand shit it was too inconsistent. I won’t even tell you how I cut my very first yellow onion by hand and by this time I was training Southern to open.

I had a good palate. I had some creative ideas and I could write a fun menu because I had been writing ideas down for years. I still lacked a lot of basic kitchen fundamentals but I hid my ignorance. I was blessed with some young souses that populated my kitchen line and I watched and learned. While I worked I had one eye on the talented guys. I absorbed their training. I didn’t ask questions because I was faking it until I made it. I’d go home and look up certain procedures to understand the process of what I observed. And like the steakhouses things clicked. I absorbed it all.

Once I adjusted to the volume and started studying my passion again and research. I’d spend hours on my laptop looking up restaurant concepts, menus and themes from Atlanta, Austin, Chicago, Seattle and smaller cities. I wanted to know what everyone was eating, what was trending, plating, architecture, branding. I’d sit next to a pile of recipe books filling up more notebooks. I stayed a student I wanted Southern to be the best. This was my dissertation. Southern became my platform for creative expression. I took everything I learned and formed a team and forged a solid concept. None of the others came close in my opinion.

My knife skills, which have never been spectacular improved. I had good line skills but I couldn’t tell you the reason for using clarified butter until after my first year. I was a solid km. Not a chef.

Dive and Boar allowed me to submerge myself into another concept. I turned my studies into smoking proteins. Some new creativity outlets and a few more chefs to watch.

I spent 9 years honing my kitchen skills and research. Focusing on seasonal menus, local ingredients and side eyeing all that new trends that came and went. All the while seeking out new concepts to create. I got fairly decent at it all. I haven’t mastered anything. I’d say I’m very well rounded.

My old company I taught myself seasonal trends, better kitchen efficiency and understanding. Creativity and I pretty much peaked as a linecook. If I had any improvement on the line I’d say my egg skills definitely won’t from gray cloak to white cloak. I peaked here as far as physical exertion goes too.

Charcuterie has changed my approach a bit. Most of my research and studying didn’t put a focal point aesthetics. I’ve always been a big protein guy. Meat is the star under some starch and or veggies. Charcuterie made me slow down and focus on the plate itself. At first I felt like a chump because I was buying pre sliced shit and sticking it in a box. Don’t get me wrong I still do it to an extent but once I got comfortable and started making my own spreads, pickles and even crackers for a while it became more enjoyable. Charcuterie slowed my brain down to focus on plating. It made me see food differently not just as something to eat but as art. I bet I’d make a hell of a tweezer chef now.

My mind shifted from quantity to quality. It forced me to step out of my comfort zone.

A completely different approach to how I do food. And I’m solo now, no delegation I have to do it all. It can wear you down but at the same time it’s made me mentally tougher. I was losing it back there for awhile y’all. Losing it all. Last time I had a job that wasn’t F&B related was 1998 and I wanted to quit that job the minute I started it.

Do I consider myself a chef now? I’ve never wanted that title. I never allowed my staff to call me that. I used to pull for myself for the best in the upstate awards for best chef. I never won shit as a kid. They were fun to win and go to that little party they’d throw during my drinking days. The main reason is because my daughter will still bring it up and tell her friends. She’s proud of her father’s accomplishments. So yeah those two little awards that some think are paid for were a fun and big deal for me. I keep one somewhere in my laundry room. The other plaque never made it home due to my split with my company the last time I won one. Kinda won and lost at the same time that year. I was taking a nap when that one was announced.

About to add another chapter to my cooking book. Craft deli, cold cuts, better understanding of cheeses, new layouts for charcuterie, larger caterings, new concept, new approach to food.

It’s constant continual education. In this field you can become irrelevant real quick. I’ve been on the side of irrelevance. I tell the new kids all time to be humble because it can happen overnight. Even though I tire of that side I stil have to play that game. It’s a part of the system.

Selling tickets

If I had to sell myself on a resume to a complete stranger I think I could make a decent presentation. Culinary schools I don’t necessarily support for myself but had I’d gone it would’ve saved me a lot of bumps and bruises I got along the way. I learned through all my mistakes. It works just as well it just takes longer. Regardless of your training if you don’t have a good palette and instincts you won’t do as well as others. All I can think of was an old KM of mine that had a hell of a shiny resume and a terrible pork chop with cranberry glaze and smoked Cole slaw. That was his premier dish.

Shudders