A Chef's Journey-Part 1

When I was just getting started working in restaurants I had no idea what I was actually getting myself into or the journey that I'd be taking.  I was drawn to food from an early age...meaning I loved to eat and eat and eat.  A lot.  Food was always a big part of family life.  My mom and both of my aunts were fantastic cooks and my grandfather was a chef for a lot of his adult life.  I still love food.  We'll talk about my love for food in subsequent posts.  Not today. I really started working in kitchens sometime around the age of 18-19 and made the transition to a full-time restaurant guy just after 21.  I mean, at 21 is when I abandoned everything else and dove head first in to being a kitchen guy.  I had met this Italian dude, Flavio.  I shit you not, his name was fucking Flavio(not to be confused with hair supermodel Fabio but it's damn close).  He, like me, had just as troubled personality with a penchant for causing trouble and debauchery.  I would come to find this out later.  I met him when I was working for a little mom & pop Italian joint in Long Beach.  He was the chef and I was the day time delivery driver.  Being a day time delivery driver wasn't very lucrative, but I needed a fuckin' job so there I was.

action adult bike biker

And being that there wasn't much to do in the way of deliveries I did what I could so they would keep me on the clock: wash dishes, bus tables, run errands.  You name it, I was game.  Flavio would be  probably the person that I give the most credit to for starting me on my journey.  He showed me how to use a knife, how to cut vegetables, peel garlic(actually that might have been Jose from the sister restaurant) and various other tasks that get put on to dishwashers in restaurants.  I should mention, too, that I worked at this same little joint during the summer after I graduated high school, and one of the things that delivery drivers had to learn at this place was how to spin pizza dough.  Thank god for that. I will also mention that I never used to smoke cigarettes. Ganja, yes...cigs no.  It's important to the story, trust me.

Everyday I worked with Flavio he would go out for a smoke break right around 5 o'clock, which happened to be just about the time I would be getting relieved by the night-time delivery guys.  One particular Friday Flavio came out of the bathroom and looked at me and said in his best broken English "Hey you smokey smokey?", as he pulled his pack of Marlboro reds from his shirt pocket.  Holy fuck, I remember this moment like it was yesterday!  I told him no that I didn't "smokey smokey," but thanks.  What happened next was something out of a bad restaurant comedy, or Kitchen Confidential.  He proceeded to open up the box of cigarettes and pulled out a massive doobie and said "No, you smokey smokey?"  Does a bear wear a funny hat?  Does the pope shit in the woods?  Hell fucking yes, I smokey smokey!

close up photo of kush on glass container

We ventured out back in the alley behind the restaurant and freaking go so goddamn high.  Then it happened...

There was a language that we were able to communicate in perfectly in that very instant.  Not English.  Certainly not Italian and definitely not Spanish.  It was stoner.  That's the best way I can put it.  Something happens or happened and where there were barriers and roadblocks previously, in an instant all of that had vanished.  At least that's how I remembered it.  He started asking me if I knew how to make pizzas, which I did.  So when I told him yes he said something to the effect of "Ok when we go back inside I want you to make 5 pizzas as fast as you can," I did.  The end.

lighted pizza neon signage

Just kidding.  That's really just the beginning of the story.  Immediately he told me that I wasn't going to be a delivery driver any more and that I was going to be his pizza maker on the weekends.  Oh, OK...and away we go.

This is post 1 in the Chef's Journey series.  I want to be cool and say something like "Part 1 of the 3 part...series."  But by now you have realized I am not that cool.   I honestly don't know how many posts it will take to get where I need to go.  Perhaps better stated is that I really don't know how many posts it will take to get you where I want to take you on this journey.