Cheffing - in general - and for much of my career has been a bravado filled testosterone fueled struggle to compete with each other, the competitor culinary businesses and against yourself on a daily basis. Ungodly hours and unfathomable weeks, holidays and special occasions forgotten, friends only being those in the kitchen beside you in a love and hate setting of warfare between plate and ingredient, chef against chef, and culinary against management; all while continuously striving for profits, food costs and a gilded star, a hat or a rosette from whatever food rating system was current.
Things have changed, a little.
Less testosterone perhaps.
A few rules to save us all against ourselves, perhaps.
My career and the length of it, has seen many of my friends and fellow chefs quit the challenge.
Even back to my apprenticeship there were three of us who battled for the affections of our culinary master.
To be seen as capable by him made us believe we might have what it took for this career to be ours. 30 years later I am still here, the second of our team; quit the career years ago and the third took his own life somewhere between the drugs, alcohol and stress filled long hours the career demanded.
Back in the 80's its how we survived.
We worked stupid hours to please our chef, we thought of nothing but food and how to make it do things no one had ever thought possible. We were learning, striving and experimenting at the same time while competing for every competition we could.
The hours numbed by toxic substances and a lifestyle which was definitely not the healthiest.
Over the years I have seen many chef struggle.
Not with the job, not with the career, but with our own minds and our own humanity, our dreams and desires and what happened to them.
We are human under the uniforms, not infallible as we thought, after all.
Famous chefs Michelin starred and famed celebrity chefs starred only on Tv have suffered the same issues we all have and have taken their own lives.
Homaro Cantu, Bernard Loiseau just two public names of chefs who have lost the battle of depression, paranoia and stress.
Friends of mine have struggled with psychosis and mental illnesses. Some have spoken out loudly about them, others chat occasionally from their hiding places away, these days from society at large. A few lucky ones, like myself, have come through the darkened days and see a future.
I wrote the following piece about a year ago. A darker time when I truly struggled with the loss of my mother.
Her loss, fresh, painful and the period darker.
I read it again today when cleaning the computer at work and felt I should share it, because the same friend returned to work recently after an unexpected break and when we hugged from happiness of his return I felt the same feelings as I had before. That dark cloud lingers never far away and strikes when least expected.
I share therefore the following, not out of morbidness but out of the sense that it might help even one person.
I read blogs, status updates and comments of many connections all the time and still see an underlying struggle by many of us in the industry with feelings we hold close to our souls and deep within our hearts.
We smile on the outside and struggle harshly deep within.
Those who refuse to admit to tears, should not remain so stoic, it hurts us more.
The job is all encompassing and takes a harsh toll.
We ned a release of emotions, (considering throwing pans at each other is no longer allowed and berating ones underlings inside the freezer is no more accepted as proper.)
The struggle has not changed.
Long hours, longer days and unfathomable weeks. The drugs and alcoholism has been politically corrected and we have different vices these days.
The testosterone has subsided, the rules and goal posts changed a little, but the job remains as harsh as ever and just as unforgiving.
If the following can make one person out of a thousand find peace, find happiness , find comfort or an answer then it was worth posting.
Being a chef is an amazing career.
But it should not envelope our worlds and steal our lives away from us.
We live to cook........ and to live we must.
Handshakes
for the Heart
A close friend went home for recent holidays to be with his
parents.
He never for a minute considered it would be the last time
he would ever talk to his father again.
Having lost my mother and still struggling with her loss, I
felt his pain like only those of us who have lost a close parent can.
I sent him a quick message via social media encompassing my
thoughts and wishes for peace, but truly wished to say more in person when I
saw him a week later after he had taken a sabbatical.
On the day of his return, before words could flow from
either of us, I gave him a mannly hug to show my respect.
“A hug is”- after-all - ”a handshake from the heart”.
This hug though caught me unawares and filled me
with grief and sorrow for both him and the loss of his father and for myself
and the loss of my own mother.
I had not really hugged anyone so hard since my
mother passed and it felt consoling, but sad.
The gift from me of a hug turned my day into a spin and I
cried regularly for the next few hours.
It is said that, ”a silent hug means a thousand words to the
unhappy heart”, while I did not know it at the time, until I hugged my friend
for his loss, I still suffered an unhappy heart.
The thousand words and thoughts
filled my head and heart combined.
Grief and sorrow are funny bedfellows, laying dormant beside
you for long periods, they travel with you constantly. Sunsets, sunrises, a
fleeting hint of music, an aroma or a simple thought can spiral happiness downward
within a heart-beat.
Without realizing it, I found myself giving a hug to a
friend, only to realize it was me who needed it the most.
It is also said that ,” hugs were invented to let people
know you love them without having to say anything.”
Culturally and physically it is not always correct to just
hug a person without permission or without truly knowing them intimately, but
despite cultural differences, despite lengthy friendships and intimate
relationships, there are times when hugs know no boundaries and are the right
and just expression between two people.
Hugs and embraces during happy events are rarely considered.
Hugs during emotional times are the ones that remain with us for life.
Each of us embraces grief differently.
It is an emotion so
strong that it affects some of us immediately, some over time, while others can
dismiss it and move forward with memories and lesser stings of pain.
While I can no longer hug my mother and tell her how much
she is missed, I will continue to surprise my friends with the warmth and
comfort of a hug, if not for them to feel better, then simply so that I might
cure the unhappiness within my own heart.
Be safe my friends..
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