Death of a Restaurant Chef

When Adam Johnson walked into the conference room with his firm handshake and confident stature, yet low-key, personal demeanor, I thought “this might work”.  Being an all female staffed company, the introduction of a man to the kitchen would be an adjustment.  Hired as a private chef for our largest corporate client, Adam went to their home (mansion), three times a week to prepare, plate, serve and clear dinner for a family of four and also prepared another three “reheat” meals.  I knew this client well and the full year that he put in with them earned him the right to become a permanent member of the team.

Adam started out at Le Cordon Bleu, learning French technique, ingredient procurement, presentation and flavor composition.  What couldn’t be taught in the classroom was the raw, innate creativity and combination of ingredients and style that Adam pours into every dish he creates.  He has ruined me.  I have eaten in many places, but my favorite is at the bar in our own kitchen.  I’m the lucky one that gets to sit on the edge of the kitchen, working on my laptop as a plate of what leads to “oohs” and “ahhs” or a fork full of perfection land in my mouth.  And so when I’m not at work, I’m forced to settle for less.

Adam did his time at Kincaids (St. Paul), Public Kitchen, Mancini’s and a myriad of other restaurants.  This guy has seen it all.  The stories I hear about abusive management, entitled clients and dramatic servers are unending.  My eyes have been opened to the drug and alcohol dependence almost required - to both keep up and come down off of an intense night at the kitchen followed by the struggle to get up the next day and do it all again. 

Adam never fails to tell people that his job as Executive Chef at our kitchen will be his last.  The more gentle, while still difficult, expectations of catering bring set numbers and schedules.  Predictability ranks in at around 98% when it comes to how a night of catering is going to look.  And he has worked hard to maintain a higher end, restaurant-like experience with our menus.  Adam often questions how we’ll be able to serve our Parmesan crusted chicken with dijon creme from a venue “kitchen” without an oven.  The guy doesn’t settle for mediocre.  He will send the rest of our crew to the event ahead of him - executing the chicken from our White Bear Lake, MN kitchen, arriving just in time to serve it up, sans sogginess, veggies perfectly roasted.  I’ve lost track of how many times wedding guests have told us, “this is the best wedding food I’ve ever had”.

His promptness pisses me off and it makes my tardiness look even worse.  Adam is always at work earlier than expected unless there’s disc golf involved.  His expectations for others to arrive and be ready to work by the start time are what makes our kitchen thrive.  And this is one of the many reasons our company has only grown since Adam joined the team.

Watching Adam read the week’s menus is like watching a computer scanning information.  Once those menus are in his brain, they are solid.  When last minute changes come along, he goes to a place of frustration, eye rolls and a few comments about clients who don’t respect the process.  This typically leads him into that stereotypical chef mode where everything and everyone is a bother and nothing is right with the world.  Those are the moments when the kitchen goes quiet and the staff works their station with a little more tension in their shoulders as they wash, sort and dice ingredients.  And then he’s back.  And he fills the kitchen with an eclectic blend of “shredders” from his playlist, hilarious banter, Office references and stories of life with dogs.

Adam and I can brainstorm creative menus, business ideas and staff performance along with all the discussions about life, what’s wrong with people and how if we were in charge of the world, it would be nearly perfect. Many times I find myself at a loss for words when I try to express my gratitude to Adam and the sometimes tearful awe and gratefulness to God in knowing how fortunate I am to have him in my kitchen and in my life. The mutual respect, genuine care for each other and commitment to hard work is what drives our consistently positive partnership in business.  Adam is the best thing that ever happened to Stonehouse Catering and we wouldn’t be in business without him.

May you recognize the people that have been placed in your path for a reason.  Take time to show gratitude to those that have impacted your life in a positive way.

With Love,

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A Little Life Lost