a day in the life, part 1

empty yuzu juice glasses, post-omakase

sushi zo, keizo-san

The restaurant industry has been glamorized by the media, especially with shows such as Top Chef and Hell’s Kitchen. To be honest, that’s a small part of the reason why I became so interested in food. At first, it was the flavor profiles. I never imagined the impact a plate of perfectly crafted food had on one’s palate and soul. That’s what started the addiction. And immediately, I yearned for more. I began reading into restaurants and chefs to get an idea of how ingredients came to life. It became my obsession. Besides checking my e-mail, food blogs became my sole reason to surf the Web. I spent countless hours reading and imagining what it was like to be a chef, to someday perhaps possess the talent and imagination to manipulate ingredients into works of art. On a whim, I looked through Craigslist early in 2007 for opportunities to get my feet wet. I had had enough. I was going to make this pipe dream a reality, if anything, for at least a year while I had the time and energy to stay on my feet for 8+ hours. In addition, I felt I was at an age where my mind receptively soaked in knowledge without that sense of pride; the pride that blocks opportunities to grow and change, for the better (I personally believe that as you grow older, you are less susceptible to change, good or bad).

I was in luck. There was a call for line cooks at a local restaurant that I had fallen in love with. The last time I had eaten there, I had declared to my girlfriend that this was the type of place I wanted to frequent to a point where I would be recognized and treated as a regular. The type of place where I could simply walk in and servers would know exactly where I wanted to sit and what I wanted to order. It gave off that homey vibe, inviting you in to not only eat, but stay and chat for awhile over a hot cup of tea with your closest friends. The concept flirted with the idea of fine dining but the portions were too hearty and the plating too simple to be associated with any type of haughtiness. The food was amazing and the service, attentive. The essence of the restaurant was understated, in every aspect of the word.

I had read up on the executive chef and the idea of working with him was enticing, yet very far-fetched. A fresh UCLA grad with no culinary experience working in the kitchen of a former James Beard award winning chef? Yeah, right, but I had to give it a try. I sent him my resume and a short cover letter, desperately trying to mask any sign of inexperience with my passion and love for good food. I got a call back within 48 hours. He wanted to talk.