Culinary Travels of the Uniballer: The Fuckfest Trifecta of Fuck

Fuck. I'm beat. Sore all over. Chemotherapy has been riding my ass for a good 6 weeks now but the end is in sight. 3 more weeks of ass rapeage, and it's all over. Unless I get shit-tastic news that I need to prolong the chemo because my nurses have been giving me horse cum instead of chemo. Regardless of what happens, I need to get by this because just recently I have been promoted to the night chef at my new place, The Homeway. I don't know, I have been getting mixed feelings about the rapid progression from being a dick sucking prep guy, to a shitty sandwich maker and now a menu producing chef. Sure, I don't doubt my ability to learn and cook really fast, and (sometimes) good, but I do know that I'm still green in the culinary world. I feel as if I'll never stop growing, or learning for that matter. All I could really do is put my best into the upcoming menu, and hope that people enjoy my food and as they eat what I cook, they know that I put my all into it. However, this being my first serious position in the kitchen brigade, I don't want it to end here. I don't know how long I'll be there, or even in Toronto for that matter, because I'm always going to be a sponge, learning the crafts of those around me so that one day, I'll open a restaurant that will satisfy my needs and the bellies of the people around me.



I'm extremely happy with my place though. The people are awesome, and the customers are usually friendly. And regular. I mean, every day-have no life regular. There's a guy who comes in every morning and gets two english muffins, super burnt and dripping with butter. His shits must be legendary. There are times when it does get annoying, albeit it happens with almost every workplace. There are always those moments where the staff feud amongst themselves, but in the end it usually winds up on the back burner, next to those crazy ass nights where nothing was in stock and you were pulling a 900 dollar day. I've seen a shit load of things in my time cooking, and I can bet my pale ass that I've a ton more to see. Whether it be at The Homeway, or anywhere else, I'll be prepared for what comes, because the life of a cook is never complete. We're almost like superheroes, except we don't wear gay tights, just shitty looking hats and sometimes fruity shoes.

Speaking about fruit, I need to find myself. I've began thinking about my future in culinary, and I know it's a sure thing. But when I look at specialties of certain chefs and their masterful craft, I sometimes wonder what my own is. I always get the question, " What's your specialty?" Now after many years of just cooking, I began to think about it more. The biggest annoyance really, was when I initially started cooking and my beautifully ignorant family asked me what my specialty was. Well, dear loved ones, after my one full day of culinary introduction, I have found my specialty. If you didn't guess, that was sarcasm at its finest. It takes years for one to find his niche. Imagine how long it'll take for that person to find their soul mate. I can't say I have, or will for quite some time. I would like to figure this out over the years. I've been told my cooking is very simple and hearty, reminding them of home cooked meals. Sure that could inch me towards being a home-style cook, but I don't want to label myself yet, especially at 23 years of age.

I guess I could say that the beginning of my career has once again kick started into motion. Sure I have had my times at Brasaii, or at the Renaissance Hotel, or even at Reggie's. They've all had their ups and giant downs but all of them stay close to my heart in terms of knowledge. However, now a new leaf has shown its face and I grasp it with clammy hands. Wondering what my outcome may be, I know that I will take whatever responsibilities are given to me, and crush them as I have many other times because I know I am able. Sure I'm a little slower and sluggish due to my cancer counterpart, but I am still able. And willing. And fucking retarded. I won't quit. I'll never stop. I'll become better every day. I'll challenge myself, and others around me. I'll become an asshole if need be to make things work but that's a lie. I'm already an asshole. I need to become somebody because I'm too fucking egotistical to stop at just being a cook. I want to be known. I want people to eat MY food. I want people to make MY food. I want an empire, built with my own fucked up hands. It will take time, and it will cost me money that I don't have. It'll probably cost me relationships, although it already has. Regardless, it's in front of me and I'm drooling just to taste this forbidden fruit called Culinary.