I'd shoot the moon down

Triple 000 flour caked upon my clogs

three batches of ravioli made today, one too wet, one too dry, final batch was perfect

The one person I want to see at the end of the day miles away

I respect it, a mother needs her daughter

A lonely man needs some libations, but this lonely man needs a change
A change of pace, of scenery, of learning to sleep next to someone

It's been far too long and the moon is full every night and it shines
It shines so bright but what does it mean?

Is it a change of pace? Of lifestyle? Or of love?

For I love what it is I do

The sizzling pans talking to me in their familiar chatter
The food, oh it speaks to me in colors

It talks to me, it speaks to me and informs me of when it's done
When it's done being cooked

I've lost my passion, I've lost my dream

When really they are so close to me and maybe I can't fathom
How close I really am
I'm doing what I want to do...

I'm teaching a kid new to food

New to cooking, new to the world I love so much

What the world really has to offer

An Observation On Life

So this is really more of a rambling rant of some sorts to put thoughts on paper
More so than a "blog" I suppose but isn't that what this is for?

I'm in the culinary program at El Centro and to get into Advanced Food Prep
You have to what?
Of course graduate Basic Prep
Let's just run through a list of things that happened tonight, shall we?

One group fucked up making a roux...twice.
I've realized that girls are afraid of fire and heat and stoves...but they are totally okay with
Convection ovens of sorts for baking, yet you are afraid of frying an egg
Someone in class with me didn't understand the phrase "cook free or die"
Re-fried beans that come out of a bag and made with water taste like fucking cardboard
Add all the bacon fat and seasoning you want...it tastes like cardboard
Most of the class doesn't know how to move, importance of speed, timing, etc.

Or perhaps it's me...maybe I'm the one that's driven to move as fast as you can
With as minimal movement as possible as to not waste time and energy

It just really scares the shit out of me that people think that becoming a Chef
Is something you can learn in school while working at a fried food joint
Sure, it's all about learning techniques and not recipes
Style and finesse, accuracy and timing
We aren't there to learn new dishes

Maybe it's just me though
Sometimes I think well, my Chef is hardcore and started the way I did
Never went to any formal training and pushes me harder than anybody I have ever known
I think at times why am I spending time, energy, money to go to class
It hit me last night that I do all this to learn technique
Flavor profiles, composition, style and the list can continue

Oh look, I have an example of irritation
Next week we are doing a "sit down dinner" whatever that entails of
My group is stuck with doing sides for the entree
Old school French way of doing roasted chicken leg
Coq Au Vin
Sides I picked out...
Haricot Vert with caramelized shallots and almonds
Wild mushroom risotto
What the class voted for...
Sesame seared snap peas and green beans
Herb crusted roasted potatoes

Now, the potatoes I'm cool with but mixing classical French and Asian?
The chicken is roasted in wine, baby onions, and carrots
You want to do sesame and Asian styled food with that?
Really? I mean fucking really?

Sure we can change the recipe but only slightly
And you expect that to work out and taste well?

Some days I just have to push myself and remind myself that I'm doing this
For a greater reason, a greater cause, an improvement upon myself

If I've Learned Anything Over The Years

I got into my first kitchen by a graceful, beautifully, poetically written mistake.
I never knew what I wanted to do for a living, let alone I sure as hell didn't feel like growing up
And facing such a challenge. Admit it, it's kind of scary to think about isn't it?
My first kitchen consisted of me dabbling with a heroin problem, 5 dudes living in a 2 bedroom apartment, yet we all worked together.
One Lead Cook (prodigally at least), one prep guy, a server, a doorman/host, a good friend, and me.

I thought I knew what family meant, but you never really see it until you work in a kitchen, and a good one.
I could tell my immediate family about a special I ran at work that sold out
They wouldn't be able to feel what my heart feels
I could tell them I have this awesome kid who is a lost and confused dishwasher who wants more
They can't see his drive through my eyes
Even if it's not related to the industry at all, for all I know he really wants to be an aviation mechanic, but he knows if he busts his ass...he'll get his chance

For the first time in a long time, too long to be honest, I'm proud of where I work
I'm proud to sling plates into the pass and watch them fly away merrily by the waitrons
Who, some of, might actually loose the nickname of waitron, some won't
The Civil War hostility between the daytime and nighttime kitchen staff
The constant moaning from my right hand man,the constant talks of pissing, moaning, beating off won't change shit
Let's keep doing what we do, and let it shine
I can walk away from a nights work knowing I gave it my all, and hang my chin high with pride
Monkey see, monkey do is your typical line cook
Monkey see, monkey do, monkey loves what he does...that's me

There is a fine line between waitrons and cooks, but when a waitron offers to jump on the line with you awaiting orders?
I can't describe family anymore in any words better spoken.

Untitled Number 2

Sometimes it takes not working in your field
to finally find your passion, your dream, your livelihood
Simple chords, simple whistles through your teeth
with pursed lips, blowing air to make the sounds

A complicated fear that is an on going irrational fear
But is irrational?
I think not, for fear is what drives us
fear on some level moves us, motivates us, pushes us

My biggest fear?
I have plenty of skeletons in the closet
They awaken me every morning, and haunt me every night
They, like me, like us, wait patiently for something to happen

It's all about the fire inside us that makes us move
Makes us live, breathe
I'm trying to swallow this all down
But a pill is hard to swallow when it's a feeling you don't want

Understatement

It could be the random heartbeat of faith,
It could be the something is honestly wrong
I saw eyes tonight, amazing eyes
Soft, succulent, mesmerizing
In the end?

I can't find the truth in them
The truth in his
Body language is non-existent
A tongue gives the verbal truth
While the eyes reveal the story
Behind the blinders

Past the language, of tongue, and of body
The hands, the extension of a mind
The eyes, an extension of the soul
Both have ways of touching a body
A friend lost, a story gained

Truth? Is but of a memory
A tongue speaking words
A pair of eyes speaking
A mouth moving with crimson lips
Giving nothing more than an explanation

A scent, a smell, a feeling...
A feeling of belonging, a feeling of distraught
The body commits acts of lies
Deceit
A body is formed

The moon against the starry sky is a new
Dark, present, but not quite alive
Still shines a path
To the wreckage we create

Breakthroughs

So, if anybody has ever been in a recovery group, or at least knows the process
The one phrase that gets repeated most is,
"Most addicts will give up their addiction, only to breed another"
Something I heard all the time, and even now six and a half years later I finally get it
Sure, I gave up my drugs, picked up the suds, but that's not the breakthrough
The breakthrough came when I realized something,
Something mystical, something new

All the schemes, the lies, the trickery, my aggressive nature, my destructive habits,
My nightmares, my fantasies, my attention to detail...
It all came back into my hands again, it came into a new realm
It came into food, it came into my dreams, my ambitions of one day being a Chef
All those lost years and hours spent looking to score,
All these years and hours spent looking to make a perfect recipe
For all I knew for so long was mix one part blind ambition, tack on a little baggie
A few twirls of the hand...perfectly numb, perfectly oblivious,
perfectly broke, but that was my escape

The equation strangely remains the same, but has different coefficients
Some new variables to take into consideration

Sometimes the question of "who are you?" isn't the best
At times it's better to ask "WHAT are you?"

Untitled

So, someone once asked me to write something about them
More so, dedicate a blog that nobody reads about them
I've thought about it for a couple days now, and this is the result

I don't understand you, something about you I can't comprehend
Maybe it's me not being able to comprehend my ownself
I think however, it's something far deeper than that
My inner webbing if you will

See, as humans most things that we can't understand frustrate us
Things I can't understand drive me...whether it be for the good or bad
Moderation is a goal, it's a key asset of life
It keeps us a class above dogs, but when you really think about it
What really makes us better than dogs?

Sure, most humans don't lick assholes, shove their nose into an asshole,
fail to see the excitement of our loved one coming home
Offer protection of their life to their loved one
Hell, even play the game of fetch
I'd kill to be a dog for a day

I'd kill to be a care-free, child again, but I know if I went back in time
Did this different, did that different
I wouldn't
I couldn't even do it if I tried

Everything in the past events of my life, my joys, my sorrows, my mistakes
My loves, my dreams, my ambitions, my failures...
They have all made me who I am today
Some may say I'm a walking contradiction, a train wreck, or even a ticking time bomb
I'll agree only on one condition
I feel things, I see things, I open my eyes every morning in search of something new

My biggest fear is that one day I won't see this, I'll hit that plateau
I'll view my life just like every other asshole in the world
Wake up, shower, work, eat, sleep
No, that's far from my routine

I find it funny that you have a bucketlist, and call yourself an adventurist
I fail to see the sense in adventure in you
I see your opinions based on what other people say, think, and even feel
I bet you buy you're panties on the basis of "well, my friend looks cute in them"

You seem to strive on other people's opinions, yet fail to make your own
It's been said, "nothing gold can stay"
Nothing gold can stay, in fact, everyone has their own faults, and downfalls
A new heir to the throne, a freshly made man full of greed who wants it
Who will stop at nothing to fulfill his desires
What, though, are his desires?
For he surely doesn't know
He sees the success in the one above him, and wants his dream
Not his own dream

In my profession, it's all or nothing
You give it everything you have, blood, sweat, tears, innovation, time
You name it, I give it...but I'm not alone in this ambition
I secretly strive for perfection
The perfect dish, the perfect family, the perfect meal
For it's not just food, it's the memory it leaves behind with the people
That's what it means to eat
Good friends, good memories, and even better times
The food could be terrible, but if you remember the times you had...
You'll come back, over, and over again

I'll put my childhood very bluntly, and very short

I grew up with my own thoughts, doing my own thing, usually by myself
I played sports in my front yard, I'd hit a tennis ball with a baseball bat
I'd chase it down through yards and repeat for hours
I'd play hockey at the park, with a big traffic trash can as my opponent
I'd work on my moves, I'd practice for hours until I hurt too bad to skate home
My dad never saw this, never saw my triumphs
My parents would fight, I'd cry myself to sleep, at times I begged my father not to leave
My dad hit my mom, she stopped me from getting to him with a bat
I was still in elementary school

Skip to middle school
I got kicked out of my house
I lived with my aunt and uncle, they taught me how to live
They taught me what family really meant, and living in a family
I think back to my grandma playing kickball with me as a young kid
I digress
I started playing more hockey, I started to grow, I made friends
I still have and wouldn't trade for the world
Memories I'll never forget, never be able to escape

High School
I started my downward spiral, only to bring myself back up
I had a close friend of mine pass away, my last remembering thought before he passed
He stopped me in a hall way, asked how I was doing, and we chatted a few minutes
I never knew he was going to pass away the next day
I was too distraught to attend the funeral
At graduation he would have sat next to me at the ceremony
Instead, an empty chair, a folded gown and apron tucked away underneath
The drugs came and went, and took control
I signed into rehab myself, I needed to get away, I needed to sleep
I found the person I fell in love with, and still think about time to time
I broke up with her, I had to get clean, she didn't do them
She didn't do what I did, but I, me, myself, got myself clean
6 1/2 years my drug of choice free, and since then only done drugs twice
Considering I lied, cheated, scammed, stole, and was terribly into my addiction...I think I did well

Skip the off years, and into kitchen life

I started not knowing the difference between a French knife, and a boning knife
I just knew I had a desire to learn, to be the best, to recreate the cooking shows I watched as a kid
To imitate what my grandma did, what my mom did, what my grandfather taught me about grilling
Learning our long talks over the grill, what they all meant, what life meant, what it meant to live
So, here I am...a few months away from 21, and my Chef thinking I was older
Just to take the edge off of my intensity, I was allowed a couple pints before my shift
I moved up in the ranks, I'd spend all day in the kitchen, the staff slowly got weeded out
Cocaine issues and an escort problem with one cook always needing more money
A culinary student who couldn't hang with the, what I presumed at the time "big boys"
A slowly dying restaurant, and the front of house all having a drinking problem
I never felt so alive
A barback who would tell me how he walked across the river to get to Texas
How he sent money back to his family, how terribly he missed them,
As well as mexican remedies for everything imaginable
Those doors closed

I have ever since been bouncing around from place to place
Searching for family, for comfort, and more so...good money, and even better food
I've lost family, friends, love gained, and love lost
I've worked with great people, I've worked with shit
In the end? I've learned from everyone I have ever worked with
Every shift, every time I punch the clock, I cut myself, I burn myself
I've learned

I aim to please, but there is only so much I can do
I can't fix everyone, and I guess this is me moving on, this is me evolving
The past is a very real thing, but we can't dwell it
We can only move forward, think in the future, think of dreams coming true
My advice to you is dream more

Live out your dreams, just dream
I seem to live in nightmares, I live in pain, I give myself the pain
I work in a hot, enclosed space, no windows, sharp objects, open flames, and a dead carcass to make beautiful
Of course, I'm a bit of a mess...

But, in the end? I love every minute of it
I'll make something of myself one day
It's progressing
I'm a work in progress