I never expected my life to turn out the way it did. I faced disillusionment with my industry, the heartbreaking loss of my mother, and a devastating car accident. But through it all, I found the strength to overcome these challenges and realize the dreams I didn't even know I had.
This is the story of my journey. It's a story about resilience, determination, and the power of the human spirit. It's a story about finding hope in the darkest of times and never giving up on your dreams. Thank you for joining me on this journey and I hope my story inspires you to chase your own dreams and overcome any obstacles that may come your way.
I knew I had to make a choice. I couldn't pursue both my passion for music and my love for cooking at the same time. So, I made the difficult decision to leave my band and move to Montreal to fully focus on my culinary career. I was 27 years old and this was the biggest decision I had made in my life up until that point.
But that decision changed everything. It led me to my dream job, to the Yukon, to earning my Red Seal certification, and eventually to meeting my wife and having my son. It set in motion a series of events that would shape the next decade of my life.
This isn't a story about everything going perfectly and getting exactly what you want. It's a story about disappointment, loss, pain, love, and self-discovery. It's my story, and I'm grateful you're taking the time to read it.
I was in my early 20s when I started my band. At the time, I was working as a cook at a diner. It wasn't the type of high-end cooking I had always dreamed of doing as a child, but it was a start. I wasn't the kind of person who made concrete plans or took action towards achieving my dreams. I just talked about them and didn't do much else.
But everything changed when my roommate and I started playing music with some friends in our spare time. It was fun and we decided to form a band, called The Baketones. We were young and full of energy, and starting this band was a great experience. It was the push I needed to pursue my passion for cooking and start working towards my dreams.
As a garage rock band with a 60s punk style, we found some minor success. But eventually, we had to decide whether we wanted to pursue the band full-time or keep it as a hobby.
I eventually left the diner and, to my surprise, landed a job at an upscale steak and seafood restaurant. The chef, Brad, saw potential in me and gave me a chance. However, I quickly realized that I was in over my head. I had always dreamed of cooking high-end food like they did at the restaurant, but my anxiety and fear held me back. I was the only person on the team who hadn't gone to culinary school and I let that insecurity get the best of me. Instead of asking questions and learning from my colleagues, I kept to myself and let my fear consume me. As a result, I didn't fit in and I struggled.
But luck was on my side. The company had a more casual restaurant that needed someone, and I was transferred there. I felt more comfortable in this setting and began to thrive. Within two weeks, I was promoted to sous chef. It was then that I realized that even though I may not have had the same level of formal education as the other cooks, I was just as talented as them. From that moment on, I set out to learn everything I could and level the playing field. My culinary education had truly begun.
My Education
I never really enjoyed school. It wasn't that I couldn't do the work or understand the material, I just never applied myself and saw no point in it. Plus, during my last few months of high school, I was working two jobs and living on my own, so there wasn't much time for studying. After high school, I had every intention of going to culinary school, but I was afraid of failing and created all sorts of imaginary obstacles to prevent me from trying. I had never cared about anything before, but cooking was my dream since I was a child. What if I went to culinary school and failed? It seemed safer to not try at all.
That decision ended up haunting me for years. As a final blow, the head of the awards committee told me at my high school graduation that if I had decided to go to culinary school, they would have given me enough scholarship money to cover the entire cost. My fear held me back from pursuing my dream and it was a mistake that I regret to this day.
There are many things that culinary school doesn't teach you, things that can only be learned through real-world experience. However, what you do get from culinary school is a foundation of knowledge. You learn the language of food and this is where cooks who went to culinary school had an advantage over me. But when it came to real-world experience - being able to work a busy line, cook multiple dishes at once, think on my feet and solve problems quickly - I had the upper hand. I knew that if I filled in the gaps in my knowledge, I would be a force to be reckoned with. So, for the first time in my life, I applied myself. I studied every cookbook I could get my hands on, asked questions, read, and cooked constantly. Over a few years, I filled in most of the gaps that had held me back.
But once again, I found myself in a job that I didn't love but didn't hate. I felt trapped and stagnant, not just in my career but also in my relationship and the band. I had reached a point where I had taught myself everything I could and I needed to find a new teacher.
The summer I was 25, the four other members of the band and I packed into our drummer's 1984 Volkswagen Westfalia and went on tour around New Brunswick, Quebec, and Ontario. It was two weeks of intense, crazy fun combined with long, hot, monotonous drives. That trip marked my first visit to Montreal, a city that would play a significant role in my future.
The decision to change it all.
I was twenty-seven when I decided to blow up my life. That may sound a bit dramatic, but it's kind of what happened. I broke up with my girlfriend in March, it was now July, and I was still living with her and one of my bandmates. It was not a good situation. At some point that month, I was talking to my mom on the phone, and I mentioned how I was feeling depressed, and like I just wasn't going anywhere with my life. She made an off the cuff suggestion that I should move to Montreal (as I had loved it so much when the band was on tour a few years earlier), I don't know if she expected me to jump at that like I did or not, but I did. Six weeks after that phone call with my mom, I got off a plane in Montreal with no job, nowhere to live, very little money, and no plan. All of my stuff was either sold or in storage back in Nova Scotia. On the surface, it wasn't the smartest move I'd ever made.
Olivieri
Bistro Olivieri was a small restaurant tucked into the back of a French Bookstore in the Côte-des-Neiges region of Montreal. The menu changed twice a day, every day and regularly featured offal like heart, kidneys, and even goat testicles. What was even crazier to me than the fact that these would be put on the menu was that they would sell out! You could never put goat testicles on a menu in Halifax and expect to sell even one order, let alone all of them. (Goat testicles are surprisingly delicious by the way. If you ever get the chance, try them.) The Chef at the bistro was a man from Alberta named Craig who's food was influenced by Eastern Europe and Scandinavia. I was able to learn a lot from him even though I was only there a short while.
It was about two weeks after I had started at Bistro Olivieri that Craig announced that the sous chef would be leaving. That same day I was offered the position. Being the sous chef meant that I would be responsible for writing the lunchtime menu every day and getting Craig prepared for the evening service as well as doing the ordering, helping with inventory, and organizing the kitchen. It also came with a pay raise. Of course, I said yes, this was my dream job. I got to push myself and learn new things every day. It was amazing! It was the most fulfilled I had ever felt in a job, and I loved living in Montreal even though I was lonely. It was everything I had wanted it to be. But then in late January, early February, I got a call from my sister that my mom was in the hospital. It wasn't urgent to the point that I need to come home, but I needed to be prepared to get back to Nova Scotia quickly if I had to. By late February I had sold or given away the few things I had accumulated in Montreal, I told Craig that I probably wasn't coming back, and I got on a train headed for home.
Mom
Whitehorse
Turn the page
On June 4 of 2016, Suzanne and I got married only a few feet away from where four years prior, I had told my bandmates I was quitting and moving to Montreal. Two months later, to the day, I was driving Suzanne to a bus station in Truro. It was raining. A kid, nineteen or twenty years old, was speeding, lost control of his car and hit our back driverside tire going at least 115 - 120 km. Our car spun out of control, possibly flipped, (we aren't sure), crossed two lanes of traffic, and landed hard backwards in the median. Thankfully, everyone involved survived. But even though our injuries were classified as minor, they led to over three years of physiotherapy, chronic pain, stress, and depression. It wasn't a great way to spend the first few years of our marriage.
Luckily, Suzanne's injuries were less severe than mine, though it was no less traumatic an experience for her, then it was for me. My injuries were mainly sustained to my neck and shoulder. These "minor injuries" had a significant impact on my work. I was only able to perform limited duties for four hour days three days a week, and even that was more than I could handle at times. For the first time in my life, I couldn't cook professionally. It was all I had ever done, and now I couldn't do it. I was scared and lost. But then I got an offer from a catering company where Brad, the first chef to take me under his wing, worked. They wanted to start a cooking school and thought I would be a good fit. I didn't have to cook day to day, which would be good for my body, and there was a lot of paperwork today, which was something I could do with my injuries. On top of all of this, I got to work with Brad again. So, I quit my job and went to work at the catering company.
Exiting the airport again
Leaving the catering company was both relieving and terrifying. I had that same feeling as when I walked out of the airport in Montreal. I knew that despite my fear and anxiety, it was my responsibility to figure this out, I got right to work. I knew that I couldn't work every day in a kitchen anymore, but I figured that I could cook a few times a week as long as I didn't have to keep pace with other cooks. There was a clear path for me to take. I just wasn't sure how lucrative it would be.
We are just coming out the tail-end of COVID and no one really knows what's going to happen in the short term. What I do know is that it will be a while before my business is back to full strength, if it ever gets back to that point. Once again, I find myself with only one clear direction, this blog. I have been writing this blog for over three years and have published almost four hundred posts but until now it was always a hobby. I have always loved teaching people about food. Now, as time has progressed and I've come to terms with the fact that I will never be able to work in a professional kitchen again, my passion has shifted more towards teaching as opposed to cooking. And so my goal now is to make this blog my full-time job. I want to be able to dedicate myself to sharing everything that I have learned over the years and I hope that you join me on this new and exciting adventure.
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Thank you,
Ben