Maybe love was in this kitchen all along

 Wirt (Over the Garden Wall) - The indecisive, pessimistic realist I totally relate to

Decided today to commit time in the restaurant kitchen, surrounded by food and family. Building upon my father's legacy.

Those who have experience in restaurants know what this entails. Keeping mental note of the incoming orders during lunch and dinner rush while you're alone in the kitchen. Lifting 50lbs of chicken from to prep for the week. Appetizers need to be out 10 minutes from order in, entrees no later than 20. Take-out for Debra is due in 4 minutes. Staying late to wash dishes on nights without a kitchen aid. How little sleep can I function on so I can squeeze in some writing for that manual tonight and go shopping for produce in the morning?

Restaurant work is the only occupation I can think of that is both mentally AND physically demanding. You commit to a lifestyle where it seems you are married to your work. It never seems to end. But I grew up with it and am used to seeing it for what is it. It was never a glamorous thing for me as it is presented now in shows and films. The rewards are real though. The strong bond you develop with the "family" that is the restaurant team. The deep appreciation for good food made with good ingredients. The satisfaction one feels when a server comes back to send table 2's compliments to the cook.

You learn about business, you learn about passion. You learn to be humble and understand work is work. Ego doesn't belongs in the kitchen. You learn that love is the key to surviving and thriving. Our place isn't hip nor is it upscale, but that doesn't mean we're not serious about our food and taking care of our patrons. Our food is honest. Our service is sincere. My father started cooking so he could connect to people, with dishes he grew up with. He always wanted the best he could do, offering nothing less than his whole heart.

Am I devastated in knowing I may never win a bike race, work for Cartoon Network, or travel as a photographer? Yes. Am I afraid that I will go into my prime having not accomplished any of my life goals? Yes.


Hell. Fucking. Yes.


It's terrifying. Growing up and facing adulthood is terrifying. Well, I'm probably considered old for going through this "coming-of-age"phase at age 26 (Maybe it's a quarter-life crisis! The new mid-life crisis).  I'm done being wishy-washy and need to start taking responsibility.

I know that I love food, a lot. And I love my family even more. I loved my father so much and will make him proud of what I could do, without holding back in fear of both possible failure and success. It may lead to becoming a chef. It may lead to other unrelated things. But I'll let the universe guide. I've been searching for a starting point everywhere else. Maybe love was in this kitchen all along. No more being afraid of living.

So, current status: 1:54am. Knees numb, back aching, fingers sliced bandaged, arms burnt. Manual progress: 4 pages. Good day. Not great, but good. My photography career is on indefinite hold, but I'll keep my site up as a portfolio of what I do anyways. Because sometimes I need a reminder that I done good. It might change direction from "Women's Contemporary Portraiture" to "Food I Make Beautiful". It might not. We'll see. As the song goes,

"Que sera sera,

Whatever will be, will be.

The future's not ours to see,

Que sera sera"