Bone Deep: Lessons From Osso Bucco

Let me say this—there are some foods that bring up really cool vibes. Osso Bucco is one of them. And I want to be clear: our industry beats the hell out of us. There were so many times in my career I asked myself, why the fuck am I doing this to myself?

When someone asks me for advice, I tell them: Find your balance early. Don’t let this industry suck the life out of you.

And when someone says, “I want to be a chef!” I immediately cringe. In my head, I’m screaming, for the love of fuck’s sake, don’t say TV!!!

Then I go into it:

“Do you like your family?”

“Do you like hanging out with your friends on Friday and Saturday nights?”

“Do you like holidays?”

“Do you like having time to sit?”

We have a saying: Eat it now, taste it later. I’ve had a hell of a learning experience. And now, at this stage in my life, I’ve come to realize something: I hold something no one can ever take from me. I come with knowledge. I come with life experience.

In the past couple of months, I’ve heard words like: resilience. Brave. Loyal. Patient.

Those are things people say they see in me. And to finally start seeing what others have seen for so long… I’m still processing that.

Which brings me to this story.

I have a tough exterior—always have. But after time, and the right kind of heat, that exterior breaks down. What’s revealed? Complex flavors. That’s me. That’s Osso Bucco.

One of my favorite dishes of all time.

I don’t know why this dish grabbed my cheeks, turned my face toward her, and forced her name into my mouth—but damn it, she did. This dish made me her bitch, I can proudly declare.

Before I knew how to cook, Osso Bucco was just an awful, unwanted cut. Guess who got stuck with it? That’s right—the poor. And what did they do? They made fucking magic.

Start with salt. Let it rest. Then add tallow to a pan and get it hot—like 50 Shades of Grey hot.

Sear the meat on all sides. Let that crust develop.

SSSHHH… trust me. Let it happen.

Then comes the sexy part. Let the heat do its thing.

Brown your vegetables.

Now the star of the show enters: tomatoes. Let them cook down. Let them have their release.

Yeah, it sounds sexual.

And yes—I meant it to. Because what you’re really reading—between the lines—isn’t just a recipe. It’s a story. A metaphor. A goddamn journey of flavor being built from the ground up.

When that tallow hits the meat, magic happens. The fat absorbs flavor, then shares it with everything else in the pot. It’s a full-blown food orgy.There’s a reason carrots, celery, and onion are called mirepoix.

Now think about biting into a raw carrot—what do you get?

Crisp. Slight sweetness. Earthiness. It’s fibrous, it’s basic.

Now think about that same carrot, stewed in garlic, meat drippings, tomato, onion, red wine, bay leaf, salt, and pepper.

What do you taste? You taste sex.

Your taste buds are screaming with pleasure.

It’s not just a carrot anymore—it’s a carrier of dark, rich, deep flavor. It’s tender. It’s seductive. That carrot went through some shit to get to your plate.And that’s the flavor profile. But more than that—that’s the lesson.

Somewhere along the way, I cracked a code. No—not the code. But a code.

I looked at that tough piece of meat and fell in love with not just the flavor, but with what it represents. The resilience it takes to cook it right. The time. The patience. The transformation.This dish is not easy.

But the reward at the end? It’s so fucking worth it.

Sound familiar?

I look back at the younger me—thick-walled, hard-headed, burnt out. And now, with time and the right heat, that tough meat… it becomes something beautiful.

I smoked my Osso Bucco because I wanted to play the Riddler—make it even more complex. I wanted time to develop the flavor I wanted my way. I added Thai chilies. Coffee. I smoked it with Tandoori masala because I needed that heat to go deep.

This wasn’t just food. This was expression. This was me saying: life is hard, complex, painful—but there are sweet moments hiding inside if you know where to look.

I paired it with polenta—because that dish also holds meaning for me. Infusing it with lemon? That brought brightness. Fennel? Why the fuck not. It added another layer of soul.

And the miso paste in the broth? That was the damn move.

The best part?

When that marrow shoots out all at once—oh my God. That’s the icing on the cake. That’s the reward. That’s the moment.

Because time breaks down everything.

We age.

We grow.

We shift our view.

Just like Osso Bucco—we go through stages. We transform. We become richer, more complex.

And when you finally taste the reward of that time—

it’s fucking breathtaking.