Sautéing the Past: A Recipe for Mental Health Vindication

Vindication, much like a perfectly crafted dish, is the art of clearing someone of blame or suspicion, marinating in the proof that someone or something is right, reasonable, or justified. Have you ever pondered the daunting task of having to prove your innocence, like trying to convince a stubborn soufflé to rise or a skeptical steak to reach the perfect medium-rare?

Imagine facing your abuser head-on, like a skilled chef confronting a burnt dish. Picture yourself speaking your truth, your words sizzling in the pan of confrontation until they're well done and ready to be served. How would that make you feel? It's a rare dish indeed, but one that could satisfy the hunger of your soul.

I think back to my own experience, leaving behind the bitter taste of resentment towards my father. He finally heard my simmering emotions, and that, my friends, is the main ingredient in this recipe for healing. After seven long years, I've come to realize that forgiveness isn't just for him—it's for the child within me who yearns for a nurturing presence.

Vindication is like lifting the heavy lid off a pressure cooker, releasing the pent-up steam of past grievances. It's shedding the weight of self-doubt and inadequacy that others have heaped upon us like unwanted toppings on a pizza. They will never truly grasp the depth of our struggles, the flavors of darkness that swirl in our minds, or the intricate layers of pain we've endured.

It's as if the world has lifted off our shoulders, allowing us to float freely like a perfectly whipped meringue. It's the feeling of being on a culinary high, where every flavor is harmonious, and every bite is pure bliss. It's emerging from the dark cave of self-doubt into the warm glow of self-acceptance, where each breath is a sweet aroma of freedom.

So let's sauté the past, my friends, and cook up a feast of vindication and independence. Let's savor the flavors of self-discovery and self-love, knowing that we are the chefs of our own destinies, creating a masterpiece of mental health and well-being.

Bon appétit to a life free of burdens and full of delicious possibilities!

36 Years Later: Reflections on My Suicide Attempt

In the hazy summer of 1988, a storm brewed within me, sparked by harsh words and shattered dreams. As I stood on the brink of despair, contemplating an irreversible choice, a sudden image flashed before my eyes - my grandfather, a beacon of strength amidst my turmoil. In that moment of reckoning, as my car teetered on the edge of darkness, a glimmer of hope flickered within me, urging me to reverse the tide of fate.

It was a pivotal juncture, a turning point that echoed with the thunderous beats of my racing heart. Amidst the turmoil of emotions, a wave of realization washed over me—the stark selfishness of my actions and the poignant guilt that gnawed at my soul. I sought not an end but a cry for help, a plea for understanding in a world fraught with pain and uncertainty.

In the aftermath of that fateful day, I embarked on a journey of healing and introspection, guided by the unwavering light of resilience and perseverance. Through therapy and self-discovery, I navigated the tangled web of emotions, unraveling the tapestry of my past to forge a path towards a brighter future.

As the years unfurled like a tapestry of memories, I found solace in the art of reflection, a profound exercise in understanding the depths of my being. Through this process, I unearthed the roots of my struggles, delving into the tangled emotions that shaped my journey.

Recently, as I delved into the realms of culinary exploration and self-discovery, I was reminded of the transformative power of storytelling. In crafting a hybrid book that intertwined recipes with personal narratives, I found a cathartic avenue to explore my past and embrace the complexities of my journey.

Through sharing my story, I sought to illuminate the shadows of mental health struggles to offer a beacon of hope to those navigating their own stormy seas. In each presentation, each podcast episode, and each TikTok post, I endeavored to spark conversations about mental wellness and resilience to foster a community of support and understanding.

In the tapestry of life, woven with threads of joy and sorrow, triumphs and tribulations, I have discovered a profound truth - the most precious gift we possess is time. It is a currency of infinite value, a tapestry of moments waiting to be cherished and savored.

As I gaze upon the tapestry of my life, woven with threads of resilience and redemption, I am reminded of the profound impact of a single choice, a single moment of clarity that altered the course of my existence. In the tapestry of my life, I found not just survival but a beacon of hope, a testament to the power of resilience and the enduring strength of the human spirit.

As I reflect upon the twists and turns of my journey, I am filled with gratitude for the chance at a second act, a second chance to rewrite the narrative of my life. Through the lens of reflection, I have learned to embrace the scars of my past and to weave them into the fabric of my being with grace and acceptance.

In the symphony of life, I have found my voice, a voice that speaks of resilience, compassion, and the enduring power of human connection. With each word spoken and each story shared, I strive to be a beacon of hope, a light in the darkness for those who walk a similar path.

As I look towards the horizon, I am filled with a sense of purpose and a deep-seated conviction to make a difference in the lives of others. For in the tapestry of our shared humanity, each thread of kindness, each stitch of compassion, weaves a tapestry of resilience and hope.

In the end, as I reflect upon the tapestry of my life, I am reminded of the profound truth that within the depths of darkness, there lies a glimmer of light, a beacon of hope that guides us through the storm. And so, I embrace each moment, each memory, with a renewed sense of purpose and gratitude, knowing that in the tapestry of life, every thread, every stitch, is a testament to the enduring strength of the human spirit.

This article describes the author's recovery journey and provides helpful information on the topics discussed. The opinions and any advice or recommendations included in this article are NOT INTENDED TO REPLACE THE SERVICES OF TRAINED HEALTH PROFESSIONALS AND ARE NOT TO BE CONSIDERED AS MEDICAL ADVICE OR USED TO DIAGNOSE OR TREAT ANY MEDICAL OR MENTAL HEALTH CONDITION. THIS ARTICLE IS NOT INTENDED TO AND SHOULD NOT BE USED BY THOSE UNDER THE AGE OF 18.

The author and publisher are not and do not hold themselves out to be a doctor/physician, nurse, physician's assistant, advanced practice nurse, or any other medical professional ("Medical Provider"), psychiatrist, psychologist, therapist, counselor, or social worker ("Mental Health Provider"), registered dietician or licensed nutritionist, member of the clergy, provider of legal services or any other type of professional advice.

Confronting Ignorance and Denial: A Call to Remember, Learn, and Stand Against Racism

Yesterday, I came across an article where a political commentator and show host made a dismissive remark about the unimaginable atrocities of the past, questioning the validity of well-documented historical events. Their statement, suggesting that heinous acts like human experimentation were mere "bizarre propaganda," is deeply troubling, especially coming from someone who belongs to a minority group and should, therefore, be more sensitive to such matters.

In a world where antisemitism is on the rise and the memories of World War II are fading, it is essential to confront ignorance and denial with facts and empathy. The horrors of the Holocaust, including the unthinkable experiments of figures like Dr. Josef Mengele, were meticulously documented by various sources, leaving a trail of evidence that cannot be ignored or dismissed as mere fabrication.

I identify as Jewish and have faced firsthand encounters with antisemitism; I find it both heartbreaking and infuriating to witness the rewriting of true history. The need to acknowledge and learn from the past is more crucial now than ever as we strive to combat prejudice and injustice in all its forms.

In a society where division and hatred often overshadow unity and compassion, it is vital to stand firm against bigotry and misinformation. Education, understanding, and a commitment to truth are our greatest tools in dismantling the walls of ignorance and intolerance that threaten to divide us.

It is high time for individuals like Candace Owens to delve deeper into history and broaden their perspectives beyond the confines of ignorance. Racism, in all its forms, stems from a lack of understanding and empathy, and it is so important to educate ourselves and others to build a more inclusive and equitable world for all. Prejudice has no place in a society that values freedom, equality, and human dignity above all else.

Racism is the religion of the ignorant. What we fear, we must destroy!  

First They Came For… 

by Pastor Martin Niemöller 

Martin Niemöller is best known for writing First They Came, but he is a complicated figure. Initially an antisemitic Nazi supporter, his views changed when he was imprisoned in a concentration camp for speaking out against Nazi control of churches.

First, they came for the Communists

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Communist

Then they came for the Socialists

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Socialist

Then they came for the trade unionists

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a trade unionist

Then they came for the Jews

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Jew

Then they came for me

And there was no one left

To speak out for me

We all owe it to speak out about antagonist hate because if we do not, who will speak for us when they come?

Embracing Imperfection: A Culinary Journey of Self-Discovery

I have never been one who, when you tell me I am no good at X, you should give up. Nope, what I am great at is self-sabotage. Do you think it gets to me if someone says, "Hey, I didn't like the flavor profile of the collards!" Why should I get upset? That person may be used to how they grew up eating them, which is fair. They may flat-out hate how I cooked them, which is also okay. Let me fuck the dish up, and then it is game on. That is when it all comes out. That voice in your mind comes forward with their proper uptight English accent and says, "Oh, that was a rookie mistake! Didn't I tell you that that would happen if you do it this way?" The best is when you are in the middle of that conversation; you have an order of Self Doubt come in; I meant ten orders of Self Doubt. You start questioning, "What the hell were you thinking? Wait, were you thinking?" You begin to think, "How many times have you made this, and now you fuck it up!" 

I recently started baking again, using my starter, Obi-Wan Ke Dough Bi. He is now a beast, and the flavor profile of that sour is so forward. I decided to make two different recipes. One recipe used just Obi, and the other was a Levain. I also had the third dough recipe for English muffins. I was doing the podcast and came home. I should have cooked the dough on Thursday, but I did not. The following day, I started. I started cooking the English muffins, and I went too quickly; I didn't let the pan heat up first to where I thought it needed to be; why?

Maybe I subconsciously wanted to give me a shitty day; who knows. When I did the first batch, and they didn't get the rise I wanted to, I just kept going. I tried one and was like, WTF. The sourness, that texture, it was euphoric. It could have been better than what Meg Ryan's character, Sally, had at the deli. It was not that good; well, almost! The next batch is perfect. I am not saying I was perfect at the second batch; the second batch when I cooked them was perfect. What happened? Why didn't I start "beating"  myself up? Simple, I was not doing brain surgery, and no one died at the end of the cooking process; that's a good thing. Here is the real reason - Someone once told me, "COOK THE BREAD." The other thing I am trying to train my brain to remember - is that you are human, and we all make mistakes. The only perfect thing is your image of g-d. Every bread is different, even if the recipe is the same. Let me pause here and ask a question. Do you want to know the truth about why some chefs don't get into baking and pastry? If you do, you must choose the red or blue pill. If you take the red pill, you stay in Wonderland, and I will show you how deep the rabbit hole goes. If you take the blue pill, the story ends, and you wake up in bed and believe whatever you want.

Oh, I see. You took the red pill and want to tumble down the rabbit hole. Most savory chefs do not have the bandwidth to bake. In the above statement, every bread or bake is different. There truly is no constant in baking. "What do you mean?" you may ask. There are hundreds upon hundreds of recipes for bread. How could you say that? Remember the rabbit hole; it is time to open your eyes to the why! When it comes to baking, things are alive. Not the little weevils in the flour, nope. I am talking about the yeast we use to make things rise and give structure and texture. Let us not forget about the water and the minerals in the water. What about the temperature of the water when one cooks? Then there are all those cooking techniques that you have to learn and all those damn ratios. Wait, what about remembering what gets baking soda and baking powder? What about all those ratios you must know and all that math you must do? You then have to remember to steam, egg wash, or straight bake. You also have to know about the protein within the flour, what each one does, how to mix their ratios, and so on. The long and the short of it all: Most savory chefs do not want to do the math or the science involved to learn to become a great baker or pastry chef. I can save the end dish if I mess up and put too much salt into a savory recipe. When you add too much salt to a baking recipe, start over.  

I went to culinary school a long time ago—much, much, long ago! I went to school thinking, "I wanted to become a great chef!" I have questioned myself every day since then, and no, I didn't. I love my career! I then asked, "What makes a chef great?" I thought it was that a chef has to master the craft, and to do so is to learn both savory and sweet. I poured straight into the mixing bowl and absorbed all that I could. 

Today, I am who I am supposed to become and realize certain things. I have learned this with the help of my daughter, who has no idea how much she has helped us since she came into our lives. Teaching her how to ride a bike, ride healies, ride roller skates, and learn to crawl, walk or run, I have always said, "It takes practice, it takes patience, and you never give up!" Why is it, then, when we fuck up a dish or whatever, we automatically go into "You dumbass, what the fuck were you thinking mode!" So, how do we stop Agent Smith from destroying Sion? Remember, it's cooking, and you are forever the student. You are the master of nothing. You are only a guide, and the ingredients and the cooking techniques you use let you master the dish you are preparing. Ultimately, if you cook craveable food, respect the process, and cook passionately for YOUR food, you have created YOUR masterpiece.

Do not let anyone tell you you can't make desserts or bake. Keep learning, keep pushing. I once told Amaury Guichon, "Thank you for what you do?" He looked at me and asked if I was a pastry chef, and I answered with this, "No, I am more savory, but what you do pushes me to learn more about the sweet side of food because it makes you a better chef. You dial in so you can create taste-bud-blowing experiences."

Never stop being a student; learn and keep learning all you can. Stop those voices in your head. Remember, things happen when you attempt to learn and perfect your craft. Those things are supposed to happen because you are forever the student... 

Culinary Philosophy: Party of One!

I just had a light bulb moment. I have them once every so often, like that comet that comes around every few years. No, this is not your run-of-the-mill DING fries are done moment. This is more like a “four minutes to Wapner” revelation—like hitting the golf ball with that perfect PING! Sound.

One of the top five questions people ask me is, “Where the hell do you come up with that stuff?” Let me expand a bit so you can get a sense of my thought process. I have always been a creature of WHY? Ask my mother, and she’ll tell you! Her go-to response was, “Why? Because it’s a crooked letter!” I’d be like, WTF does that have to do with my question? It was like when I was younger and asked, “What’s for dinner?” and she’d say, “18:30!” Yup, honest to God.

Eventually, I caught on and started asking, “What time is dinner?” Her reply? “Chicken Parm!” I digress… I have always wondered who came up to eat the things we eat today. For instance, who came up with foie gras? Go look it up; it’s a really Kool story. When I was in culinary school, I constantly asked why. I have no idea why {see what I did there}, but I’m that guy. So, getting back on track {ADHD much?}, I would always ask cooks why they did things a certain way, like why they washed rice a certain number of times or why dry and wet ingredients are mixed separately before combining.

One vivid memory I have is from working at a large Asian-themed restaurant. I was being introduced to a new cooking style, and the trainer, Lou, had probably fifty years on me. I remember watching his technique during one chaotic Friday night shift. The kitchen was a whirlwind of activity—tickets printing, no stop off the wheel, and cooks moving like there was no tomorrow. But Lou moved like Neo dodging bullets in slow motion. His movements were graceful, purposeful, and mesmerizing. He wasn’t chaotic; he deeply respected the food he was cooking. It might not have been his style, but it was American Chinese cuisine, and that was who he was.

We had a family meal each day in most kitchens I’ve worked in or run. To this day, it’s one of my favorite meals. Every day, someone took a shot at introducing the rest of us to their cuisine, representing where they were from, their upbringing, and their style. You get to learn who a cook is through their family meal. The difference between their restaurant food and family meal is LOVE. They cook from their heart, sharing their most craveable dishes and personal stories.

I would sit, eat, ask questions, and learn about their cuisine. I realized that the sparkle in their eyes when they talked about their dishes reflected their memories, respect, and history. I will never consider myself a master of anything. A master is someone who believes they know everything, and that’s not me. I can never fully replicate another culture’s cuisine; I’m not from there and wasn’t raised there. I can only show respect for it.

I have a buddy, Chef Jason F. Lynn—follow him, he’s a great guy. We have deep conversations, and he always says, “Always the student, forever learning our craft!” I look back at the cook I was and the experiences that shaped me, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. I’m from Florida, raised in HollyHood, and have worked in Miami up to Tampa, where I am now. I’ve played with so many different cultures in the kitchen, adding flavors to my arsenal that I didn’t know existed.

Recently, on our podcast, The Walk-in Talk, I did a flan challenge. Carl had his Cuban mother-in-law make her flan, and I made mine. My buddy Chef Robert Gonzalez, who was a contestant on the Food Network’s Spring Baking Championship, gave me his recipe. I don’t do anything the normal way. During the podcast, Carl said, “The flan was great, but it’s not Cuban flan.” He made a comment about tradition, and I responded, “I will never do traditional because I wasn’t raised in that culture. It would be disrespectful for me to label their food as such. Instead, I show respect by blending their flavors with my style. That’s the only way I know to honor their cuisine.” I’m just a cook who asks questions and experiments, all while trying to pay my respects to the diverse culinary traditions I encounter.

The dish I prepared for this trigger was to pay respects to my family, who is from Jamaica. People think the national dish is Jerk Chicken, and you couldn’t be more wrong. My mother-in-law is one of fourteen kids, Chinese Jamaican. There is a whole lot of flavor in that family. I was introduced to this dish when my wife and I started dating. Now, I want to state that I was not aware of this dish, and all of you cooks from Jamaica that never told me about it, you {I cannot say what me want to say}! I remember when I was asked if I wanted Ackee and Saltfish. I was like, “What’s Ackee? What is this thing called BAMMY?” Here is the thing: when I said that, her mom looked at me and was like “Well, him going to find out!” It wasn’t that—it was the joy, that dare I say, a twinkle of “I get to show someone a dish from my country.”The whole family was so excited. I learned quickly why they were.

The Dish

Ackee and Yum
Jerk marinated grouper | pineapple vinegar infused mango chutney | coconut milk marinated bammy seared | stewed tomatoes | caramelized onions | Ackee | coconut butter crumb | coconut rum lemongrass infused reduction | lemon jerk curd | roasted broccoli puree

Exploring Tipping Culture in the Restaurant Industry

As someone deeply ingrained in the restaurant industry, I have witnessed the highs and lows that come with the territory. From working in bustling environments akin to scenes from "Zombies" or "Dexter" to relying on tips as a crucial part of my income, I've experienced it all. The allure of fast cash from tips can be addictive, reminiscent of that initial hit of weed or first bump.

One pressing question that arises is whether it is ethical to continue relying on tips as a primary source of income for employees. The concept of "tipflation" has emerged as gratuity expands beyond traditional full-service restaurants, fueled in part by the COVID-19 pandemic and inflation surge. The social pressure created by digital payment systems with visible gratuity prompts has led to what some term as "guilt-tipping" and "tipping fatigue."

Delving into the historical roots of tipping reveals a complex narrative. Tipping traces back to medieval times, where it originated as a way for masters to reward extraordinary service from their servants. Over time, the practice evolved, with some scholars suggesting ties to post-slavery job opportunities in industries like restaurants, railway services, and domestic work.

Fast forward to the present day, and the restaurant industry continues to grapple with the legacy of tipping. The federal minimum wage for tipped workers remains at a mere $2.13, a relic of New Deal-era legislation that required employers to pay a wage supplemented by tips to meet the minimum threshold. This system has faced criticism for perpetuating low wages and instability for workers.

The debate over tipping raises fundamental questions about fairness, sustainability, and the future of the restaurant industry. Some argue that eliminating tipping could lead to higher menu prices but fairer wages for employees. However, the misconception that restaurants are highly profitable businesses overlooks the industry's high failure rate and slim profit margins.

As we navigate these complexities, it's essential to question why the United States stands out as the only country where tipping is a prevalent means of supporting restaurant workers. By shedding light on the history, challenges, and potential solutions regarding tipping, we can foster a deeper understanding of this longstanding practice and its implications for workers and consumers alike.

Behind the Scenes: The Art of Culinary Preparation in the Restaurant Industry

In the restaurant industry, we often say that "99% is preparation and 1% is perspiration." This statement goes beyond a catchy phrase - it underscores the meticulous planning and attention to detail required in running a successful kitchen or event. For chefs, the process of planning starts with creating a menu tailored to the guests' budget rather than lofty aspirations. Every item on the menu requires careful consideration, from choosing ingredients for a simple dish like a Caesar salad to coordinating napkins, place settings, and other essential elements for a multi-course meal.

Managing inventory is another critical aspect of preparation for chefs. Ensuring that the right ingredients are stocked on shelves involves balancing physical inventory with financial resources. Mistakes in supplier deliveries can tie up funds and storage space until resolved, highlighting the importance of thorough checks upon receipt. Timing is also crucial when ordering goods, as chefs must coordinate deliveries to align with their prep schedules and avoid unnecessary delays for their team.

The challenges extend beyond the kitchen, especially when catering off-site events with limited equipment and space. Adapting the menu to fit the available resources, such as a food truck with specific cooking appliances, requires strategic planning and organization. Each item on the menu must be carefully mapped out, considering plate counts, silverware, and washing facilities. Lists upon lists are created, checked, and double-checked to ensure that every detail is accounted for in the execution of the event.

Catering events can be chaotic and unpredictable, akin to playing a high-stakes game like Russian Roulette. Chefs must be ready to adapt on the fly, making adjustments if certain items run out unexpectedly. This level of control and precision appeals to many chefs, who revel in the challenge and excitement of catering unique events. Their dedication to perfection and their willingness to go above and beyond ensure that every event they cater is a memorable experience for their guests.

In conclusion, the world of catering and restaurant shifts demands a meticulous blend of preparation, adaptability, and control. Chefs navigate a complex web of planning and execution, driven by a passion for delivering exceptional culinary experiences. It is this dedication to their craft that sets them apart and makes them the unsung heroes behind the scenes of every successful event.

From Chef to Farmer Advocate: A journey of Resilience, reflections and Food Safety

I consider myself a farmer advocate. Every chef worth their weight should be one, too. For the lack of better terminology, the past two years have been challenging. I walked away from a corporate job during COVID to open a restaurant, only to leave it a year later. Starting my own business, I had to close it due to the loss of my sister-in-law to COVID-19. We packed up our house and moved to the west coast of Florida. My life resembles the top country song on the charts right now. You might be thinking, "You didn't mention your dogs." I hesitated to share that our dogs crossed the rainbow bridge soon after my sister-in-law's passing. So yes, my life feels like a country song hit. Despite the challenges, the resilient human spirit prevails. I refuse to give up, for I have learned that time is our most precious asset.

I was raised near where Florida once boasted the world's best oranges. I grew up surrounded by farmers tending to cows and crops, with the ocean to the east.

Recently, I was shocked to discover that the United States ranks ninth in the world for food safety, on par with France. On September 2, 2023, the USDA recalled 15,000 pounds of sausage. The following day, the FDA recalled over 5,000 pounds of dog food contaminated with Salmonella. On September 5, 2023, the USDA recalled 245,000 pounds of frozen chicken contaminated with plastic. The blinking cursor urges me to share this story. How can we not be outraged? It's not enough to applaud catching these issues; they should never have occurred. COVID-19 taught me that we cannot blindly trust BIG FOOD or the complex logistics of our food sources. It's time to scrutinize where we buy our goods. Are they truly local? Are those green tomatoes from a massive industrial farm the best and most local option? Let's eliminate the middlemen. Consider this: consolidation diminishes our choices. The shrimp industry crisis from a few years back serves as a stark reminder. One infected shrimp jeopardized entire stocks. When I was young, Joe Z's Market and the kosher butcher across the street were culinary landmarks. Today, these individual establishments have given way to conglomerates, purportedly for our convenience. But true convenience lies in cooking from whole foods, a practice we've forsaken in our time-strapped lives. We opt for quick fixes like ten-minute rice, overlooking that modern pressure cookers can prepare rice perfectly in just 12 minutes. We're always "slammed," too busy to savor life's moments or prioritize our well-being.

What do you fear more, tainted beef or unwashed greens? Do you wash your chicken out of fear of foodborne illness or COVID-19? Our country's food safety ranking is not solely about restaurant kitchens but where they source their ingredients. The old adage "Get to know your farmer" holds true. When did you last visit a genuine farm where toil and passion yield the most flavorful, nutrient-dense produce? A bite of a sun-ripened, non-GMO tomato can be a revelatory experience. Its explosion of flavors invokes a sensory journey unlike any other. As a chef, stepping outside to harvest ingredients for dinner should be a cherished routine, not an afterthought buried under excuses of being "slammed." Reflect on the quality of what you put in; it directly impacts the quality of what you serve and the reviews you receive. In today's tech-driven world, there are no excuses for not embracing sustainable practices. If you find yourself dismissing this as "nonsense," consider that even a simple hydroponic setup can revolutionize your approach to sourcing ingredients. Instead of rushing to fast-food chains, visit a local farm. Learn from farmers' dedication and let them inspire you to reconnect with the land and its bounty. The only barrier is you.

I am taking meaningful steps by utilizing my hydroponic tower and cultivating leafy greens and other favorite foods. I am translating words into action, not to make a difference but to embody a difference in my food choices. By tending to my garden and composting food waste, I aim to provide my family and guests with safe, flavorful produce. To all the hardworking farmers out there, we owe you a debt of gratitude. Thank you for nourishing our bodies and souls. Growing your own vegetables allows you to infuse your meals with a passion for how you want to eat. Consumers hold immense power; let's start exercising it.

Exploring the Culinary Passion: A Journey into the Soul of Food

If I could post my mental state today, it would be: "Today's forecast calls for partly melancholy with severe winds and heavy fog!" ADHD can feel like both a blessing and a curse. For those who don’t struggle with it, imagine driving down a street; suddenly, a stiff wind causes power lines to cross. There’s a massive crack, a voltage surge, and then a bolt of lightning. Once the wires separate, everything seems normal. You might call it a "squirrel moment," but I call it "wires crossed." At that moment, I short-circuited, and everything that was floating around in my mind burst forth.

It's not ADHD causing my feelings today; it’s the toll of the past few weeks. I've been focused on helping others and neglecting what’s most important: me. Through my food addiction journey, I’ve learned I need to manage my emotions positively. In the past, I would have turned to substances or food to cope. Now, I strive to be impeccable with my words, avoid taking things personally, and not make assumptions.

Today, my ADHD is in hyperdrive. After hearing about "Cupcake," I reached out to the chefs we used to hang out with and kept hearing, "This cannot be good!" It wasn’t. I felt like an awful person. Cupcake and I had many conversations, especially after they lost their fiancée to cancer. When I got the news of Cupcake’s passing, my first thought was, "How did they die?" Life happens, and I realized we had lost touch. I’m not jumping to conclusions but letting my emotions wash over me.

Throughout my journey, I’ve learned what benefits my mental health. I’ve set boundaries to protect myself. I feel like I let someone down, but I know I can’t save everyone. I understand that while some stories end, mine continues. Cupcake’s passing reminded me of my "family" from my old company. So much happened during my eight and a half years there: my mother’s cancer, my daughter’s birth, my father’s death. COVID hit me hardest; I lost my passion for food and sought more from life. It became the villain once I left that job, and those "family" members became collateral damage. I recognize I was wrong, and I will change that. I know Cupcake would have forgiven me; that’s the type of person they were. Their death has brought us back together, and I’m committed to keeping those ties.

What you just read reflects my journey in learning to cope with emotions. I wrote this without a filter to show how my mind works. I want you, the readers, to see my raw, vulnerable thoughts. Vulnerability isn’t a weakness; it’s one of the greatest gifts we can share. If you don’t believe me, watch Jon Bon Jovi save that woman’s life on the bridge.

The Ghost of Our Future & Past

Have you ever stopped to think about where your food really comes from? It's not just about picking up groceries at the store anymore; a bigger story unfolds right before our eyes. This isn't your typical Christmas tale - we're talking about the potential ghost of our future here.

Let's start with a simple question: how many times a day do you eat? And where does that food on your plate come from? It's easy to overlook the journey our food takes to get to us, but it's a story that's worth exploring.

Have you ever considered becoming a steward of the land, a modern-day shepherd? It's a romantic idea, but let's face it—most of us are clueless when it comes to farming. We rely on the hard work and dedication of those who understand the land and its rhythms.

The news is filled with stories of farms closing down, and the reasons may vary. Is it politics, rising costs, or environmental challenges? The truth is, it's a mix of everything. Farmers are facing tough decisions, and we, as consumers, play a crucial role in their survival.

Farmers are caught in a tough spot as prices go up and the demand for cheap food increases. They pour their hearts and souls into their work yet struggle to make ends meet. Land development, natural disasters, and fluctuating market demand all add to their challenges.

If we don't start questioning where our food comes from, we might find ourselves facing a future where food scarcity is a real threat. It's time to prioritize sustainable agriculture, support local farmers, and make informed choices about what we eat.

So next time you sit down for a meal, remember the hands that toiled to bring that food to your table. Let's not let the ghost of our future haunt us - let's make conscious choices that support a thriving, sustainable food system for generations to com

Electric Emotions: Healing Through Vulnerability

If I could post my mental state today, it would be: "Today's forecast calls for partly melancholy with severe winds and heavy fog!" ADHD can feel like both a blessing and a curse. For those who don’t struggle with it, imagine driving down a street; suddenly, a stiff wind causes power lines to cross. There’s a massive crack, a voltage surge, and then a bolt of lightning. Once the wires separate, everything seems normal. You might call it a "squirrel moment," but I call it "wires crossed." At that moment, I short-circuited, and everything that was floating around in my mind burst forth.

It's not ADHD causing my feelings today; it’s the toll of the past few weeks. I've been focused on helping others and neglecting what’s most important: me. Through my food addiction journey, I’ve learned I need to manage my emotions positively. In the past, I would have turned to substances or food to cope. Now, I strive to be impeccable with my words, avoid taking things personally, and not make assumptions.

Today, my ADHD is in hyperdrive. After hearing about "Cupcake," I reached out to the chefs we used to hang out with and kept hearing, "This cannot be good!" It wasn’t. I felt like an awful person. Cupcake and I had many conversations, especially after they lost their fiancée to cancer. When I got the news of Cupcake’s passing, my first thought was, "How did they die?" Life happens, and I realized we had lost touch. I’m not jumping to conclusions but letting my emotions wash over me.

Throughout my journey, I’ve learned what benefits my mental health. I’ve set boundaries to protect myself. I feel like I let someone down, but I know I can’t save everyone. I understand that while some stories end, mine continues. Cupcake’s passing reminded me of my "family" from my old company. So much happened during my eight and a half years there: my mother’s cancer, my daughter’s birth, my father’s death. COVID hit me hardest; I lost my passion for food and sought more from life. It became the villain once I left that job, and those "family" members became collateral damage. I recognize I was wrong, and I will change that. I know Cupcake would have forgiven me; that’s the type of person they were. Their death has brought us back together, and I’m committed to keeping those ties.

What you just read reflects my journey in learning to cope with emotions. I wrote this without a filter to show how my mind works. I want you, the readers, to see my raw, vulnerable thoughts. Vulnerability isn’t a weakness; it’s one of the greatest gifts we can share. If you don’t believe me, watch Jon Bon Jovi save that woman’s life on the bridge.

The Roller Coaster of Entrepreneurship: Navigating the Storms of Self-Doubt and Success

Sometimes, life feels like drifting in the sea of the unknown. The current moves you as you rise and fall on the waves, while the wind brings life and direction. I sit here trying to think what to type next and how to communicate what I want you, the reader, to feel. The sea and the wind have created a vortex. My emotions are spinning, and I feel I am being pulled under. I feel like Jacob Marley, with chains wrapped around me and cement blocks. I think, "Please don't let me..." It happens. I feel myself drifting straight down into the darkness. I feel the weight all over my body, crushing me. What light was there is fading rapidly, and I am left alone in silence. A deafening silence! I am left with my heartbeat, my doubts, my should of, my could of, and my would of's.

Music plays, my eyes open, the alarm is going off, and I survive another day. I go about my day constantly, thinking about what hell will be around the corner today. What obstacle is the universe going to throw at me today? What phone call is going to punch in the dick! You hear those faint voices, "Does he really know what the hell he is doing?" You realize those voices are in your head. You move about your day, checking off your checklist and seeming like you are in control. Then you hear, "Are you keeping busy to forget about that..." Your phone rings, and the dread and despair fall over you as you see the name; it's that call!

Welcome to the glist and glamor of entrepreneurship! Well, this is my version; yours may be different. You may ask yourself why the hell would you{{or anyone else for that matter]] do that to themselves.? Simple, it's mine. Okay, it's not that simple. You have to be absolutely in fucking insane to want to be in charge. "It's the American dream!" Yes, yes, it is, but it comes with a lot of risks. The burden it puts on your family unit, HELLO! The toll it takes on you, your mental health. Your bank account!

Why do I do it? I want my daughter to have a legacy. I want to show her that you can achieve anything if you put your mind to it. I do this because I believe in myself. I see myself as those around me support me! The biggest failure for an entrepreneur is THEMSELVES! More specifically, the fear of the unknown. Can I, ME, CAN I REALLY DO THIS! Self-doubt kills a dream quicker than anything. “But I can't do that. Something like that already exists! Really, did that stop Netflix from taking down Blockbuster? We all thought there would be nothing but Microsoft. How's that going? We all thought we would be singing "Hello MOTO." You get the point! Life is not easy, so why do you sabotage yourself? See yourself as those support you see you! Do what I have been doing lately. I keep telling myself, "It is not a sprint but a marathon!" Life is like baking sourdough. It takes time, nourishment, time, support, time, stretching, time, seasoning or time, heat, steam, structure, you get the point. When you screw up, as someone once told me, “Just bake the bread!” I think another flaw is getting in your own way. Listen, just do it, learn from it mostly stay out of your own damn way. More importantly, stay out of my way!

Feeling the same ups and downs of life, entrepreneurship, and self-doubt? You’re not alone. Whether you’re navigating your own storms or facing the unknown with fear, remember—it’s not a sprint, it’s a marathon. Take the next step toward clarity and growth. Join me on this journey of self-belief and resilience by subscribing to my newsletter for more insights, or let’s connect directly for personalized coaching. Don’t let doubt stop you from building the life or legacy you dream of—start now.

I’m my own gatekeeper!

For some reason, I feel different. As I lay here reflecting on my day, a thought hits me—my doubt didn’t come from anywhere else but me. My father planted it, but I’ve been the one watering it all these years. If I had the power to break the cycle of his abuse, why haven’t I stopped myself from abusing me?

I’ve always seen triggers like an overpowering flavor—something that needs balance, something I have to tame. And in some strange, fucked-up way, I think I didn’t want to let go of that feeling. Like Neo seeing the Matrix for what it really is, I suddenly see my patterns for what they are. And now, a part of me is screaming, What do I do now?

The answer? Live!

For the first time in a long time, I feel comfortable. Balanced. At peace.

I realize now that I’ve been the one standing in my own way. I blamed everything and everyone around me because it was easier than looking at the real cause—me. That truth is both sobering and freeing. Because if I was the one holding myself back, I can be the one to set myself free. And I am.

I used to fear letting go of who I was, clinging to the version of me that felt familiar—even when it hurt. But I have a tattoo of a Phoenix for a reason. The old Jeff has burned away. And from the ashes, I rise into the person I was always meant to be.

I finally understand that one voice can make a difference. And I will make mine heard.

What limiting belief have you been holding on to? What’s stopping you from becoming who you were meant to be? Drop a comment—I’d love to hear your thoughts.

#TEDx #MindfulTransformation #RiseLikeAPhoenix #BreakTheCycle #MentalHealthMatters #OvercomeYourDoubt #OwnYourStory #CraveableObsessed #FromFireToFreedom

Your Struggles Aren’t Failures They’re Just Missing The Right Ingredient

I journaled about trusting myself yesterday, and I wasn't getting IT! Seeing now as a way to adjust the process as it is coming along is trusting in the process. Like creating a new recipe. When I come up with a dish, I do not know the correct measurements. It is the ideation of the dish. If I look at dilemmas as starting a new recipe, you do not expect how it will turn out. It is almost, if not precisely, like FAILURE. I felt that I had achieved nothing today because my mind was partly cloudy. I am wary of not doing something, letting go of myself, and losing myself to the darkness. One thing keeps popping into my head: I feel my nervous system working in overdrive. I feel that stress and worry; I see what it can do to me. I acknowledge that I NEED to have money come in! I know that I have to provide for my family. I, at times, feel stuck. As I would say to a friend, "Time doesn't heal wounds. It numbs them. We learn to cope and push forward. Maybe this moment isn’t about finding balance immediately but about tolerating imbalance without letting it define you. Balance doesn’t mean everything is equal at all times—it means learning which areas need more attention and when. Just like you instinctively tweak flavors in a dish, you’ll learn to do this in life, too. Growth is messy and painful; nothing worth fighting for is ever easy! If I start to look at things in the way of when something is unbalanced?

• If a dish is too salty, you add acid or sweetness to cut through.

• If it’s too rich, you lighten it with freshness or crunch.

• If something is missing, you don’t just throw in more of the same—you counterbalance it.

Now, apply that to my life:

• If stress is overwhelming, what’s your acidity? (A grounding practice, a walk, a deep breath.)

• If your mind is overloaded, what cuts through that heaviness? (A structure, a reset, a moment of quiet.)

• If money is your biggest trigger, what’s the balancing note? (Perspective, control over what you can manage, acknowledging the things that are going well.)   

You don’t force balance in a dish. You work towards it! You don’t force balance in life - you adjust to it!

I am not stuck - I am just waiting for the right flavor profile to emerge.

What if today’s win is allowing yourself to be in the fog without self-judgment?

What if balance isn’t about fixing everything but trusting yourself to adjust as you go?

What if I were to look at triggers this way? Triggers are like a new recipe. Just like when experimenting with a dish, a trigger is just an unexpected ingredient you didn’t anticipate. It doesn’t ruin the dish—it just means you need to adjust.

A trigger isn’t failure; it’s just a strong flavor that needs balancing. If a dish is too salty, you don’t throw it away—you add acidity, sweetness, or fat to bring it back. If a trigger hits too hard, you don’t shut down—you adjust your response, find the missing ingredient and course-correct. It is not about trying to erase the flavor (the trigger). Now, it is about learning how to make it work for me!

Finding the Win!

I’ve been working through a lot recently—more than I’d care to admit. There’s a post I’ve seen floating around about how January is like a Mulligan, how the year doesn’t really start until February. And honestly? I get it.

The truth is, I wrote something recently that completely rocked me to my core. I shared it with a friend, and they said, “You have to post this.” But for the first time, I hesitated. I didn’t want my journey to be seen. The words were there, but the courage to say them aloud wasn’t.

We all carry our own battles. Some of us bottle them up, while others wear them on our sleeves. I don’t judge anyone for how they cope. But when judgment is directed at me, that’s when my boundaries kick in. My passion is food; my lifeblood is mental health. Combining the two feels like my purpose—breaking bread, telling stories, and reminding people it’s OK not to be OK.

That brings me back to what I wrote. I was reflecting on a day that felt like a complete shit show. The kind of day where everything seemed to go wrong. As I sat down to find the “win” for the day, I came up blank. Nothing. Nada. I rubbed my temples, trying to make sense of it all, replaying every moment. And then it hit me: I survived.

That was my win—I survived the day. It wasn’t glamorous or earth-shattering. But it was real. That realization brought up emotions I hadn’t felt in years. It was like giving myself permission to just be—to exist in that messy space without needing to tie it up in a bow.

Sometimes, the win is just surviving. And that’s OK. Because even on the hardest days, finding just one lifeline—a small victory, a deep breath, washing the day away with a shower, or even a moment of stillness—can be the thing that keeps us going.

So if today feels heavy, know this: surviving is enough. You are enough. And tomorrow is another chance to find your win.

My Daughter’s Greatest Gift

As I walked today, I found myself texting a dear friend, trying to unpack the sadness that has been lingering in me. At first, I thought it was just about Bacon Bits—about the weight she’s going through, her loneliness, and the pain of not having her family intact. But then it hit me.

I’m not just sad for her; I’m sad because I know that emptiness. I know what it feels like to want someone and not have them there. That loneliness isn’t foreign to me—it’s a wound I’ve carried for a long time, one I didn’t fully recognize until now.

When I think back to my childhood, Sundays were my sanctuary. My grandfathers were my safety net, my constants. They were there, grounding me and giving me a sense of stability and love. And when they were gone, that safety net was ripped away. That’s when the darkness crept in when the depression took root—the feeling of being left behind, unmoored, alone.

Today, that memory touched my soul in a way I didn’t expect. It’s as if I finally saw the starting point, the origin of the sadness I’ve carried for so many years. And now, seeing Bacon Bits’ pain, I realize how much of myself I see in her. It’s heartbreaking to witness, but it also gives me clarity.

This is a moment where I have the power to do something different. I can’t erase Bacon Bits’ pain or undo the losses she’s endured, but I can be present for her in a way I wish someone had been for me. I can be her safety net. I can show her that even in the midst of loneliness, she is not alone.

And maybe, just maybe, as I work to support and heal her, I’ll find a way to offer that same love and understanding to the boy I used to be—the one who felt abandoned when his grandfathers were no longer there.

This isn’t just about Bacon Bits; it’s about breaking the cycle of loneliness and creating something new and healing for both of us.

The Power of Knowing: Turning Struggles into Strength

Life is funny. You always hear these stories that people learn later in their lives. You have to wonder how they didn't know that, like didn't they have a feeling? When I heard stories like that, I always wondered, "How did they not know!!" Then, it happened not once, not twice, and probably will never stop. In my book, I mentioned that I have known of ten people who completed suicide, two of those people being my great-grandmother and great-uncle. I found out that truth when my Ex-father-in-law completed his life in 2003. For thirty-three years, I heard that my Uncle saved people during some subway accident, only to learn that he took his life by jumping in front of one. In my twenties, when I was going to college, I found out that I was diagnosed with dyslexia. When I was being tested as an adult, the therapist told me he knew exactly what was wrong with me.

Let me dive a little deeper for you. I was given puzzle pieces to put together, and they gradually became more arduous, and I was being timed. It was one of the last puzzles, with many pieces, no outline, and just wood tone. I had no reference point either. I had one piece in my hand and couldn't figure out what was before me. The doctor looked at me and said, "I know what your issue is!" I was like, "Okay, want to let me know!!!" He explained, "The harder something is, the easier it is for you!" I was like, "Whatcha you talking about, Willis?" Basically, Einstein's theory of relativity is easier for me to understand than 2+2=4. Once it was determined I had dyslexia, I started this CSI investigation into "How come I didn't t know this???" I went to my pediatrician and asked him; I got, "I-I did not want you to use that as a crutch!" Let's just say what came out of my mouth was superlative four-letter words. At first, I was angry. I kept telling myself, "What would have been different for me growing up knowing I had this? Would my relationship with my father be different knowing that?

Now, I just found out that I was diagnosed with adult ADHD. A lot of you may say, DUH, we all knew that. I felt something was wrong, but I didn't know exactly what. I don't have all the symptoms of ADHD, but the ones I do have, let's just say A+++. Last year, I was evaluated, and the therapist never got back to me. I moved on with my life, and this past Friday, my new therapist told me that I was diagnosed. Again, I can sit here and play the victim, but what has happened can never be changed. I cannot let my past dedicate my present or my future. The only change I can make for my future is to focus on my present.

Yes, it sucks that I didn't know what I know now. I have lived 53 years of my life and have a choice to make. I could either wallow in my shit and play the woe is me game or be grateful. Honestly, I see this as true human grit and spirit. I went through all that schooling and did all of these things without knowing. I overcame my adversity without knowing I had it. Now that I have been diagnosed, my new journey of healing can begin. My thoughts are about what I now can accomplish with having the tools to become who I was to become.

I look forward to what is in store for me. I will no longer think, "How much is in my tank," but "I cannot wait to see" what I can accomplish. Sitting here thinking about how to end this, I think about martial arts and what the most challenging belt to achieve is. I believe it is the white belt. The most intense battle is choosing to start that martial art form. Mental health, the most challenging aspect, is actually saying you need help and getting it.

Recently, I talked to a friend who has been going through a lot. I said, "What if you knew you would end your journey on X date? How would you live your life?" They thought and said, "I would stop drinking!" That got me to think, 'Why wait until you know when you will die? Why not think tomorrow is your last? Think about being the best version of yourself that you can be!" Exploring your emotions and knowing that you can manage them is extremely powerful. What is powerless, having your emotions control you? We must teach ourselves the correct positive coping mechanisms to get through life. Life is already hard, so why do you want to throw more fuel on that fire? Take back your power to manage your emotions and watch what YOU can achieve. #justonelife

Cooking with Soul: Redefining Perfection in the Kitchen

I was taking a quick break, thumbing through my Apple screen, when I came across someone asking, “What’s the best coffee?” That got me thinking about the concept of “the best” in food. It's become so subjective! Just think about how many different Oreo flavors there are!

Let's talk cookies for a second. Are you a soft cookie, not a soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur - squirrel moment? Do you like crunch? If you do like crunch, how much? Are you one of those "I love the edges crispy crunchy nomnomness with that soft warm center!" Food has so many layers, so how can you say X BRAND is the best? If all it takes is slap a label on it, it's the best. Hell, if that is what it takes for something to be the best, then my BACON is the best!

I feel a new journey brewing for my taste buds and imagination. I want to experience, taste, and truly live in the moment with food. What does it mean to find the best? The definition of “best” is “of the most excellent, effective, or desirable type or quality.” But my question is: best for whom? As chefs, we push ourselves daily for this elusive notion of perfection, raising the bar so high that it's almost intangible.

I love dark chocolate for many reasons, but primarily for its raw intensity. It tells a story, and the chocolatier's skill in manipulating those flavors creates a complex bite that can leave you breathless—those Meg Ryan “I’ll have what she’s having” moments!

So, do you like dark chocolate? If you do, I hope you felt that picture I painted. If not, I may have lost you—until now.

I’ve always been told I’m a perfectionist, and just typing that gives me chills. Those twelve letters have affected me deeply! But I’ve realized that perfection has been my villain, holding me back. The power of words can be stunning!

As I sit here, reflecting on “THE BEST,” I’ve awakened to a profound truth: it wasn’t perfection I was seeking; it was simply to exist. I don’t need validation from others or my food to know that I deserve to exist. No more chasing likes, awards, or views.

It’s time for the next chapter. It’s time to embrace my imperfections because they are even more craveable than the best. Why? Because now, I’m cooking with my soul.