Sunday. 6:01pm.
I'm freaking out. It's my first day back. We've shaken hands and said goodbye. Lineup went well. And now i'm completely losing my shit. My heart is screaming at me. I have to keep taking deep breaths to get air into my body. My head aches, and all I can hear is a muted, rumbling sound. Merrell and Ponder ask me if i'm ok, and I don't answer them. All I can see on the horizon is trouble, and fear, and failure. And we haven't sent a single plate out.
Thursday. 9:55pm.
My face hurts, and I still can't breathe--but instead of panic and doubt, i'm brimming with laughter. It's been a smooth night, and everyone is cracking jokes and having fun. There are plenty of friends in the house, and service feels less like work and more like a big house party. I'm so overrun with adrenaline and outright joy that my head is spinning a little. Service hasn't been perfect--there have been some loss of focus moments...but all in all the night is going well. Euphoria isn't the right word, but it comes close.
Friday. 11:15pm.
Is it quiet in here? It seems quiet in here. It's been busy--a heads down, deeply focused kind of night. There's this strange energy in the kitchen. I think this is some kind of culinary equiavalent of nirvana, but i'm not sure. My brain won't linger on any one moment for too long--things are happening too fast for that. Things have been almost perfect...but not necessarily fun. That's not to say that it's been one of those super intense, no fun nights--it hasn't. But the focus has just been too deep to dig out of. I feel completely calm.
2009 was supposed to be all about confidence, right? Moving forward, evolving, getting better. Be smarter, work harder, waste nothing--including time. Things started off well, and staying focused on that goal has been priority #1. Now it's Spring, and there's this strange feeling like time is hurdling forward. Everything seems more urgent, like someone went around slapping exclamation points on everything. It seems now like all the goals are starting to progress. We're stronger. I'm stronger. What was intense a year ago seems like childs play now. So why do I still get that Sunday feeling?
I'm not the best cook or chef. This blog doesn't have all the answers. I make stupid mistakes, and lose focus, and act lazy. I cuss, and talk shit, and sometimes wish I could just tell people to fuck off instead of helping them. There are days when cooking feels impossible. There are days when i'm so fucking scared and angry and ashamed that I can't even see straight. On these days I look at myself and ask this:
What if the insecurity and fear and doubt never go away? What if this is my curse?
Then I realize that it's not my curse--it's everyone's curse. Life is difficult. Cooking is hard. Those deeply focused days are amazing--and if they happened every day, then maybe our kitchen becomes more French Laundry than Nopa. And that might not be a good thing. The trouble is in balancing the focus, and the fun, and the fear. The trouble is in looking at your situation, be it fear or fun, and adjusting back to some form of control. The trouble is in realizing that it's not important to be perfect--it's only important to want and try to be perfect.
Sunday. 6:31pm
Deep breath. Exhale. Shake hands out. I'm good now.
notes:
quotes and conversations
Me: We should call each other by animal parts. Like duck neck. Or hambone.
Corey: How about chicken penis.
Me: That's a good one for Paulie.
Corey: Or turtle vagina.
Merrell: That's a good one for Paulie.
"When it's like this, it reminds me of a Twix commercial."
-Goose
"I dunno, if I were dating a guy that was showing naked pictures of me, i'd be stoked."
-Merrell
Corey: Hey dude. Some girl said I had on cool ass clothes yesterday. All I had on were Vans and a hoodie.
Me: Was she hot?
Corey: She was eight.
"That's like borderline Mark Summers shit."
-Ponder, on me mopping my kitchen floor.
Corey: Now I can jump off the roof.
Rachel: Not until you finish making soup.
from top: art!, the clash, iced espresso, crazy eating, dom p, bridge, boulettes, nopa empty, do i look fat in this?, sous chefs, goose, amy's stick hands, corey merrell ben al, matty
I'm freaking out. It's my first day back. We've shaken hands and said goodbye. Lineup went well. And now i'm completely losing my shit. My heart is screaming at me. I have to keep taking deep breaths to get air into my body. My head aches, and all I can hear is a muted, rumbling sound. Merrell and Ponder ask me if i'm ok, and I don't answer them. All I can see on the horizon is trouble, and fear, and failure. And we haven't sent a single plate out.
Thursday. 9:55pm.
My face hurts, and I still can't breathe--but instead of panic and doubt, i'm brimming with laughter. It's been a smooth night, and everyone is cracking jokes and having fun. There are plenty of friends in the house, and service feels less like work and more like a big house party. I'm so overrun with adrenaline and outright joy that my head is spinning a little. Service hasn't been perfect--there have been some loss of focus moments...but all in all the night is going well. Euphoria isn't the right word, but it comes close.
Friday. 11:15pm.
Is it quiet in here? It seems quiet in here. It's been busy--a heads down, deeply focused kind of night. There's this strange energy in the kitchen. I think this is some kind of culinary equiavalent of nirvana, but i'm not sure. My brain won't linger on any one moment for too long--things are happening too fast for that. Things have been almost perfect...but not necessarily fun. That's not to say that it's been one of those super intense, no fun nights--it hasn't. But the focus has just been too deep to dig out of. I feel completely calm.
2009 was supposed to be all about confidence, right? Moving forward, evolving, getting better. Be smarter, work harder, waste nothing--including time. Things started off well, and staying focused on that goal has been priority #1. Now it's Spring, and there's this strange feeling like time is hurdling forward. Everything seems more urgent, like someone went around slapping exclamation points on everything. It seems now like all the goals are starting to progress. We're stronger. I'm stronger. What was intense a year ago seems like childs play now. So why do I still get that Sunday feeling?
I'm not the best cook or chef. This blog doesn't have all the answers. I make stupid mistakes, and lose focus, and act lazy. I cuss, and talk shit, and sometimes wish I could just tell people to fuck off instead of helping them. There are days when cooking feels impossible. There are days when i'm so fucking scared and angry and ashamed that I can't even see straight. On these days I look at myself and ask this:
What if the insecurity and fear and doubt never go away? What if this is my curse?
Then I realize that it's not my curse--it's everyone's curse. Life is difficult. Cooking is hard. Those deeply focused days are amazing--and if they happened every day, then maybe our kitchen becomes more French Laundry than Nopa. And that might not be a good thing. The trouble is in balancing the focus, and the fun, and the fear. The trouble is in looking at your situation, be it fear or fun, and adjusting back to some form of control. The trouble is in realizing that it's not important to be perfect--it's only important to want and try to be perfect.
Sunday. 6:31pm
Deep breath. Exhale. Shake hands out. I'm good now.
notes:
- 8pm on a Friday night isn't a great time for the fire marshall to show up
- that cute dog almost took my hand off
- next weeks podcast features ryan farr and eddie lau
- nopa sold 50,000+ burgers in the past 3 years
- those pants at rvca were far too tight
- when a cute girl/guy tells you they like your writing, it'll put a smile on your face
- i kinda wanna marry blue bottle
- kick ass, ex machina, and no hero are great comics
- porchlight was fun
- dinner at boulette's was amazing. stuart and nicole brioza = bad ass
- the one star is almost as rare as the four
- this blog post title has nothing to do with ponder's new twitter picture
quotes and conversations
Me: We should call each other by animal parts. Like duck neck. Or hambone.
Corey: How about chicken penis.
Me: That's a good one for Paulie.
Corey: Or turtle vagina.
Merrell: That's a good one for Paulie.
"When it's like this, it reminds me of a Twix commercial."
-Goose
"I dunno, if I were dating a guy that was showing naked pictures of me, i'd be stoked."
-Merrell
Corey: Hey dude. Some girl said I had on cool ass clothes yesterday. All I had on were Vans and a hoodie.
Me: Was she hot?
Corey: She was eight.
"That's like borderline Mark Summers shit."
-Ponder, on me mopping my kitchen floor.
Corey: Now I can jump off the roof.
Rachel: Not until you finish making soup.
from top: art!, the clash, iced espresso, crazy eating, dom p, bridge, boulettes, nopa empty, do i look fat in this?, sous chefs, goose, amy's stick hands, corey merrell ben al, matty