no sleep. well, no deep sleep. few dreams. mostly passing out. trying not to fall asleep on the commute home.
never time to eat. never have time to sit and eat. no utensils to eat with. no plates, just plastic containers. on the fly. on the run. a taste here and a swallow of something substantial almost never. disparate food groups go into the mouth at odd times of the day. example:
6 am: salt cod brandade.
6:04 am: vanilla ice cream base.
6:30 am: just blanched leeks.
7 am: a carrot's stem end.
7:32 am: hot chocolate chip cookie. burn tongue.
9 am: overcooked scrambled eggs, cold {?staff meal}. 7 pm: [yes, that's right---> you eat nothing from 9 am until 7 pm.] a few cilantro leaves and a stolen celery heart.
8:19 pm: one spoon of searingly hot soup. burn tongue again.
10:16 pm: four and a half bites of cold rice, cold mystery meat, soggy limp salad. {yes, another staff meal taken in a deli cup but not eaten when hot.}
2 am: you get home and realize you have nothing to eat in the house but you're starving so you eat crackers or instant ramen or have a beer or go to sleep hungry.
lonely. spend your days nagging cooks. harp on every last detail of everyone's work. fix the dishwasher on a Saturday night. stay until 5 am pulling apart the ceiling to find a leak. bake all night because one of your bakers is out sick. yell at people for being lazy and get disrespected in evry which way but the eighth day of the week. work the craziest fucking hours anyone sane or even insane enough to hang out with, would. try your luck on the desperate alcoholics at the bar, and everyone is wondering what the mangey dog brought in. go home to a dirty apartment and sit in the dark but for the glow of secret internet meanderings. being a boss means everyone wants to be you, but few want to be with you. and you don't have the time, even if they did. most of your [old] friends have 'normal' 'civilian' lives. and if they don't eat where you work, you never see them either.
nerdy. and not in the ironic sense. your entire life revolves around the kitchen. insular. your humour, your manner, your thoughts, your viewpoints, all revolve around your kitchen, your crew, your menu, your food, your next menu, your bar sales, your craft, your purveyors, your wine rep, your tableware, your shortcomings, your youness as it relates to you. you're so self referential to your own square footage you can barely remember when you thought about anything else. people might meet you out and exclaim, "O! YOU'RE A CHEF?! R E A L L YYYY?!!! WOW. THAT'S SOOOO COOL! What a cool job!!!" And you wish you'd never said anything at all because now, on your one night off in 6 weeks, you could have heard something other than what usually comes out of your mouth, you hear yourself leave your body and talk about your kitchen, your food, your menu, your press, your staff, your you you you and more you, and even though you are watching yourself kill this innocent little Top Chef watching devotee with the real deal, the real chef's life, the real hours, the real scars, the real fucking deal, yo, from the other side of the room, or worse yet, from the ceiling like a Greek God, you can't help it. it all spills out. you talk about the seeds your favorite farmer collects and the whole lamb you broke down this afternoon and the cook you had to send to the hospital before service because he took off the side of his pinky on a mandolin. YOU CAN'T STOP TALKING ABOUT YOUR OWN LITTLE WORLD. even though now even the out-of-body you is yawning with minutae obsessed nerdiness and morbid cook humor no one but you and your world gets, you kill, you kill dead the person who could have talked TO you about something else. something, anyfuckingthing that might have actually given you THE NIGHT OFF. yeah, that one you're not gonna see until February. It's November.
bad friend. bad father. bad uncle. bad girlfriend. bad son. bad community lover. bad husband. bad mother. bad dog owner. bad roommate. bad citizen. have you ever dated a chef? we fucking suck. we're tired all the time. we stink. we never write, we never call, we never go to weddings or funerals or births. we don't have days off and we don't dare try and take them. we don't go to the doctor when we're sick. we don't take the best care of ourselves. we pay our bills late and we have trouble keeping up with our laundry. we do not respond to jury duty notices. we never see the light of day and we like to sleep on any days off we weasel out of our kitchens. we think and talk kitchen food staffing issues lists menus produce protein production ceaselessly. we don't show up on time. we don't know how to eat with utensils. we don't get holidays off, we work them, so don't ask. we're defensive, on edge, drunk a lot of the time, and we flirt with waiters. it's as bad as a dog liking a cat, but we do it. we cheat on our partners and we don't get home in time to tuck our kids in. we don't answer emails and we don't write full sentences if we manage to write at all. we don't answer the phone and if we call we wake you up because in our world the clock stops when we enter our little kitchen world. years can go by and we have no idea what's happening in the world outside our world. we are like jailed narcissists. mirrors on all sides.
sticky, stinky, bruised and burned. you often look like garbage the bridge and tunnel tourists of your town leave in your gutters as they make their way back to their pristine suburban fake lives. people avoid you walking down the street even if they've begged your host to let them eat your food just minutes before. you've been wearing the same clothes for the last 17 hours and you smell of smoke, blood, oil and onions. you get home to find chocolate and beet juice on your forehead and you wonder why no one thought to tell you to wipe it off while they cooked alongside you for the last 15 hours. your scars tell their own bar stool stories. you caught the biggest fish, fucked the prettiest girl and reached into the oven a hundred times that night with a wet towel because the kitchen ran out of linens in the middle of service. you're burned and bloody and barely patched with band aids that aren't built for hard labor.
Ha. i love cooking.
Posted by: Chris | 27 October 2010 at 05:45 AM
You're back, yay!!!!
The question is, where?
Hello Susan, The name of the restaurant is Peels and it's located on the Bowery in lower Manhattan. Come in and say hi. ~ shuna
Posted by: Susan | 27 October 2010 at 10:19 AM
Living the dream! I know you love it in the bottom of your heart though! I'm still on the journey...
Posted by: jenny | 27 October 2010 at 12:42 PM
Hi Shuna, your words are very inspiring.. I am not a chef, but I am the mother of one. And I see this tired over work young chef.. But the best part about it is that no matter how tired he is. I see the passion in his eyes, is like some kind of drug that overcomes your tired body. I know I see it everyday on my sons eyes. But over all you all deserve a metal, for the wonderful things food, for the hard work, the love in your kitchen, the long sleepness hour, the scars and burns that no one appreciates, and the passion that makes your body over come all this crazyness of the kitchen.. With love for my own little chef, that I am also proud of. Ty so much for your inspiring note.
Martha
Posted by: Martha Dickinson | 27 October 2010 at 12:43 PM
oh drat! I'm going to be in NYC next week from the 2nd to the 6th or so. I was hoping to see you... but I'll be obedient and stop in and eat something and say hi. I've read this post, and I get it!
xxooo -julia at mariquita
Posted by: julia | 27 October 2010 at 12:44 PM
This post sounds really bitter, albeit a decent representation of kitchen folk. Very "early Bourdain."
Posted by: Jeff McCarthy | 27 October 2010 at 01:09 PM
Through the storms, through the muck, through the everything, keep going!!! Beautifully written, deeply felt, really communicates!!
Posted by: Dad & Ellen | 27 October 2010 at 02:44 PM
Powerful writing! I feel your raw emotions.
I am envious that you are so passionate about food that it consumes you. Maybe enlighten us what keeps you going?
Will try your creations when I drop by to NY!
Posted by: Liv | 27 October 2010 at 06:53 PM
I found out where you were from Tasting Table NYC
So when I had a chance to be in the city today, I was happy to have the opportunity to drop by and delighted to actually get to say hello to you.
Everything looked really good and it was tough making a choice. Today it was a snickerdoodle and the Peels muffin. Both really, really yummy.
Jayne! Thank you for saying hello! It's always a pleasure to meet those who have helped make eggbeater what it is :] Me and my baked goods hope to see you again. ~ Shuna
Posted by: Jayne | 27 October 2010 at 10:02 PM
what a pleasure to find a post today! thank you. hang in there!!! ktln
Posted by: kthln | 27 October 2010 at 11:46 PM
i admire you a lot. despite of the stress and 'self deprivation'(in eating)you still inspire a lot of people with your cooking. i think it really is your passion.
Posted by: pinky black | 28 October 2010 at 04:58 AM
Tell it like it is, sister.
Once again I am blown away by your writing and the truth in it. I'm no longer a chef, but it all resonates like it was yesterday not a dozen years ago. Every little bit of it. Your blog should be required reading for all aspiring chefs.
Posted by: Kristina | 28 October 2010 at 11:34 AM
I love it Shuna. Great piece. SO true.
I laughed so hard and as I read it I was having some good-bad-crazy flashbacks of my working Chef years + being a Chef´s wife... (ha, best of the two worlds!)
Ah...you are right, being a Chef is so glamorous.
Posted by: heidileon | 28 October 2010 at 12:07 PM
Aaahhh Shuna, you write it like it is, great stuff - totally related (even though I'm not in the kitchen full time anymore) but Oh Boy...., so true..., so true.
Posted by: Anna Johnston | 28 October 2010 at 12:13 PM
WOW! I can relate to all you wrote, down to the second. Keep up the passion and the fight for perfection. Much love from Kansas!
RJ
Posted by: RJ Hamiel II | 28 October 2010 at 12:16 PM
I loved the post. One things for sure; I'm not leaving my home kitchen for a professional one.
Posted by: Gina F. | 28 October 2010 at 12:16 PM
Very well written. You speak the words of so many that can't voice who or what they. So glad you are doing well. It's been a long time since we worked together.
Todd
Posted by: Todd | 28 October 2010 at 01:13 PM
Someone with authority speaks forus.
Posted by: Steve | 28 October 2010 at 04:40 PM
Loved that you made time to write this, and loved what poured out of you.
Hope there's more.
Posted by: Dianne Jacob | 28 October 2010 at 08:11 PM
Being in this business for the past 34 years, I've experienced exactly what you've written, and I'd have it no other way. We are a certain type of breed. All of the downfalls of the business all seem worthwhile when at the end of the night you count 350 covers, and all went out without any major hitches. It's called "PASSION". There are millions of great cooks in the world, but only a few (relatively) that can run a kitchen. I am proud to be a part of the elite few that can still hang. If I didn't love this business, I would have hung it up long ago, but the "PASSION" is still there, and I can truthfully say that as tired as I may be in the morning, I still look forward to what my new day will bring.
Posted by: Chef Mark | 28 October 2010 at 11:15 PM
I am extremely jealous of your command of language and expression...and your baking skills..ofcourse.
Thanks for sharing.
Posted by: Malini | 29 October 2010 at 06:26 PM
I stumbled on your blog when I was in culinary school and I have been keeping tabs on this site ever since. Usually when I need some inspiration; I wonder through your site and read,laugh,smile and take solace in the fact that we can all march to the beat of our own drums. Eggbeater was my inspiration for blogging and I am glad for it. Keep writing, so I can keep reading.
Posted by: Jomo | 30 October 2010 at 02:25 AM
Hey Shuna, that's a big mouthful. If you're not taking care of yourself, let someone help! If you were here in SF I'd fill you with cheese samples and give you hugs, just for starters.
Posted by: Jenny Schmenny | 30 October 2010 at 10:36 PM
This is so true.
People look at this lifestyle as sort of a mental illness at times. My family wonders why I can't just be normal and keep normal hours, and even my significant other, who also cooks, grows tired of my kitchen talk night after night.
I am obsessed. I wonder...what is home? Days off...sleep, laundry, research.
I've been a reader for a while now, thanks for another amazing post. You speak for so many of us.
Posted by: Cristal | 01 November 2010 at 03:04 PM
I just wanna say that your new photo is hot.
Posted by: Kelley Gibler | 02 November 2010 at 04:48 AM
You are the Iron,Top,Next and Best Chef in my book. Bourdain better ask you for writng advice after reading this post. You go girl. "Wanna see my meat walk-in?"??? that is crazy. Peace, Paul
Posted by: Chilebrown | 05 November 2010 at 10:36 PM
thank you Shuna
Posted by: Toyoda | 06 November 2010 at 10:18 AM
Hi Shuna - Keep fighting on. Your words are inspiring, and through them we can all feel how passionate you are about your calling. Hope it helps to know that your readers supports you! Will be visiting Peels soon!
Posted by: Beth | 06 November 2010 at 02:00 PM
Yep, sounds about right, only thing different I would add, now that I have been clean and sober for four years, I cook a little bit more, go home from my camp job for my days off and start cooking. I think the kitchen is an addiction, just unlike any other. If I'm not cooking I'm reading blogs or cookbooks, or writing my own, yep, addicted...
Posted by: chefhenry | 07 November 2010 at 10:44 PM
I am a girl Sous chef with no culinary school training. I was fifteen when I got my first job in a kitchen. Reading your posts (and re reading them, and re-reading them) inspires me, makes me better and keeps me motivated. You remind me I'm not alone. Your writing and your observations are spot on. Thank you!
Posted by: Lindsey | 08 November 2010 at 03:23 PM
I think, being a chef is really a glamorous profession. But the way you presented your experience here is really informative. Thanks for sharing and I'm really wondering if being a chef will also lead you to being "nerdy". Actually, for me, being a chef is fun!
Posted by: Shane | 10 November 2010 at 01:24 AM
Shuna, there is no doubt in my mind, after reading your posts, that should you decide to have early retirement you can take these posts - all of them - and publish a book.
Girl your talent is far deeper than the one you have now in the kitchen.
Posted by: Natalie Sztern | 13 November 2010 at 06:02 PM
Jesus. You talk about the kitchen like I talk about Iraq.
Like I say to my troopers: chin up/ head down.
Posted by: mayhem6 | 24 November 2010 at 10:46 PM
You know what? I'm about sick of chefs acting like they are saving the world. OK?!
You are NOT a brain surgeon.
You are NOT a detective solving a double homicide.
You do NOT work 70 + hours a week for the greater good.
You are a chef. You cook people overpriced food and neglect those around you for the sake of your "craft."
I appreciate your hard work and dedication - I do - but chefs need to realize they are glorified housewives cooking on a bigger scale.
And you know what? You are horrible people to try to love - because all you do is take, take, take.
You might love your job and think it's justified to alienate those around you, but it isn't. Chefs need to realize they aren't the most important people in the entire world - and if anything, you're decreasing the lifespans of the consumers with saturated fat and putting butter in everything!
Stop acting like you're solving world peace with your whisk and spatula - you aren't.
You're just a chef.
Posted by: Chef Girlfriend | 08 February 2011 at 12:31 PM
@Chefgirlfriend: Obviously, you don't "get it". It's not something I can explain, and unless you have the same bug, it's not something you can ever understand.
Why we do, what we do, how we do it, and the abuse and neglect we receive, accept, and dish out. Is there balance? Possibly. I haven't found it as yet. It's a life of broken dreams, broken lives, and living in the moment. No past, no present, just GET IT OUT NOW and make sure it's HOT.
Posted by: Apprentichef | 23 February 2011 at 11:46 AM
Hey, I feel you on every level, i can't remember the last time i had a meal sitting down, not over a garbage can or in a corner somewhere, or the last time i got a chance to fall asleep before 3am. truth is im 19 going on 20 this year, and i've been in it since i was 16. You should talk about the aches and pains you get in your back, knees, and fingers ha, or the pace you have to prepare dishes and prep at. its nothing like tv. where they do one dish or two in 30 min and we do over 150 covers in the span of maybe an hour or two. Love every minute of it, Time seems to stop when your on the line. a minute feels like ten and how you dont acknowledge burns, cuts bumps but for a split second and then end up in the back outside smoking trying to figure out at what point in the night you got all those wounds haha. i will deff keep reading
Posted by: Jesus (hey-zues) Ramon | 23 April 2011 at 02:03 AM
I've heard over and over that people who try to make their passions/hobbies into careers end up hating/resenting the thing they once loved. Do you think it would ever be worth it (or even possible) to go to school to become a chef just as a hobby?
Posted by: Daniel | 30 June 2011 at 05:59 PM