Passion in the Food Industry

I think this picture sums up this blog pretty well. On the top we have my very first kitchen scar. See I didn’t just choose the name because “walls” happens to rhyme with “calls,” (well … that was a big part of it). And most of you have told me you like the name and were either being genuine, nice or facetious in which case I love/tolerate/think you’re a douchebag. I actually have spent quite a bit of time scrubbing the kitchen walls at Oceanique. I think Chef Grosz realized that he hadn’t really scrubbed the dark, abyssal corners of his kitchen in a long while and that there was no better man for the job than the eager Asian boy. Oh and bee-tee-dubs Chef, the best way to clean a wall is NOT with a broom and a bucket of soapy water. C’mon! Anyway, one night I was getting down and dirty with the corners around the convcetion oven. Oceanique has been around for about 20 years and I’m guessing no one had paid attention to this deep recess for at least the last 12. And then I found out that convection ovens deal 41-49 fire damage in a radius of 3 yards (Okay that was really dorky … I swear I’m not really a virgin. In fact, Kim told me what a vagina is yesterday). Basically I’m saying convection ovens are fucking hot and give off a ton of heat. I’m sweating bullets as I’m trying to maneuver around this bitch and finally I bump into it, and just like that, first few layers of skin gone. Another fun fact; Oceanique’s kitchen is very close to the service area so we have to be relatively quiet. My immediate instinct is to scream like a little girl, but I stifle it long enough until I get to the sink and run some cold water over it. Enter the scar.

Now I say that picture represents the blog very well, because you’ll notice that below my elbow there is a long, dark ugly scar. Yes friends, that is of course a lay out scar. For those of you who have played Northwestern ultimate in the past 3-4 years, you probably can guess where that came from. None other than Trienen’s Fieldhouse, AKA the Turf Field. Before we got that nice, long field turf this year, Northwestern had the Brillo company install some of their trademark sponge pads in field form. That shit was the most abrasive and unforgiving surface to ever play sports on. It happened to everyone if you weren’t a complete pussy and laid out here and there. I’m sure Gaulton has never really had the skin on his knees or elbows come back completely, and that his body looks something like this scar. Conclusion, anytime you hit the ground in that place, just like that first few layers of skin gone. Nice layouts often were followed by “Nice bid! Now go find your skin.” Okay I’ve gone on too long about that stupid field. I’ll pull my old timer card and say you younglings should be thankful for the field turf and go on with the show.

So yes my mangled left elbow has become a pictuersque representation of my life. Injuries sustained doing what I love to do most. And that’s what I’m trying to get at today. Ever since I knew I wanted to be a chef and own a restaurant, I became more observant about everything and anything culinary-related. Every great restaurant I went to I tried to remember as much as I could about every experience; the service, the décor, the food of course, and that subtle quality that makes a restaurant go from good to great. I was fascinated by chef biographies and would often go to every good restaurant’s websites to find out how those chefs and their staff got to this point. There are some wildly diverse paths and there are some incredibly distinct restaurants, but I think I’ve found now what it takes to be successful, and what quality unites all restaurants that can be considered great.

Passion is the absolute most important thing. I like having this scar, because someday I will show it to people (these things don’t go away that fast, right?) and tell them that I spent weekends in college scrubbing neglected kitchen walls because believe it or not it was important, and in the end it was for something I love to do, and that’s why I am successful. And yes I say with confidence that I will make it because I have chosen to enter a field of which I am passionate about. I think Steve Jobs said it best in his 2005 commencement speech at Stanford University, “Work is going to be a huge part of your life, whether you like it or not. So you have to choose something you love to do. Because the only way to do great work is to be passionate about your work.” I think I’m blessed that I can say that I not only know this to be true, but that my family has accepted this is true and believes in my vision, and has pushed this inspiration upon me my whole life. My cousin, essentially my big brother, would always say, “The money will come. You just have to like what you do.” So I am lucky to be surrounded by people who believe in the passion of work, whereas so many other Asian families oppress their children into doing work for the money, not the fulfillment.

And that FINALLY brings me to my point about passion and the food industry. So many people open a restaurant because their number one goal is to make money. I wish I could flash a big, red alarm and sound an obnoxious siren. Or at least have Alex Trebek appear as a little angel/Canadian douchebag on your shoulder and tell you, “Negatory, Ghostrider the pattern is full.” Repeat after me; RESTAURANTS HAVE POOR PROFIT MARGINS. After you open your restaurant don’t expect to actually start making any money for at least 1.5 or even 2 years. They are a huge investment and don’t turnover money very quickly. So when the stat is put out that 80% of restaurants fail, this is why. People open a restaurant because they think they’ve always wanted to or because they want to escape their cublcle or whatever. I understand, most people don’t set out post-college and think they’re going to change the world one cubed desk at a time. Well they fail because they don’t know what they’re getting themselves into. Restaurants require a ludicrous amount of work, my mom has worked seven days a week, 10-12 hours a day for the past three decades. That’s what it takes to be successful, and many others go even harder. You can't push that hard, you can't do good work if you don't love what you do. And even if my mom complains about the hard lifestyle sometimes, in the end she loves to work at the restaurant.

There are all sorts of qualities that make a successful restaurant, a successful restaurateur. Luck is not a small one of them, especially if you hope to stay alive in New York. I'm sure I'll spend plenty of time discussing it as this blog goes on, but I just want to say that I feel ready. Now I just need to learn how to cook the right way. The French way.

So I'm in Seattle for now, gearing up for Potlatch. The Monrads have proven to be excellent hosts, and I’m excited to check out the Northwest. Seattle is on my list of cities to set up shop in eventually, so I’m definitely interested in the vibe and the seafood. The tournament should also prove to be awesome. Have a good weekend everyone.

EP #6