Oh mother @#$%^&* that’s hot. 

Yes, but it has to be, to put the right edge on the fish.

And so began my re-immersion into a professional kitchen after some thirty years hiatus. But this wasn’t any kitchen, this was a NYT Extraordinary Rating run by a teutonic teddy bear named Thomas here in Greenwich. And this wasn’t just any job, it was, by all accounts a therapy that got me through a rough patch.

Theresa and Thomas knew me a bit. I had been a guest at a few dinners a year. And I convinced them once to allow me to cook dinner for thirty of my friends and family on a special birthday a few years ago. That was another time, entirely. I say convinced, because Theresa gave me the third degree about my “skills” in the kitchen, explaining the Brigand system to me as if I was a third grader. In her presence, I usually am a third grader, actually. They allowed me to try to prove myself, and I convinced them I could do a seven course Birthday menu. And that was it… or so i thought.

Fast forward a few years and I was working through some changes in my world (doesn’t every chef say that). I went back, and pleaded them to allow me to cook again. Thomas could not have been more gracious, and the team could not have been more … perplexed. Ok, you don’t clock in. You’re not paid. You CAN cook, but you would rather chop and learn. WTF are you doing here dude. Every chef, a story, right?

Well, after a few months of hanging with Thomas, I’ve earned in. My repetoire has doubled. My knife skills are sharp. I’ve been part of a nearly a thousand plates (ok, a third of those were thanksgiving day). And I’ve also begun doing private dinners for friends, booked three months out. But mostly, I rediscovered Flow, at least when it comes to dinner. I’m eternally grateful to Thomas and Theresa for the chance to be in their kitchen.

So please set the table. I’ll take care of the rest.