Falling Star Pantry

Being self employed isn't for the faint of heart. Being a chef isn't for the weak willed. Yet... Here I am, doing both. 😵

There’s an easier way to make a living. I knew this when I began (or maybe I didnt?) but i chose to do it anyway!

Being a chef will take your nights, your weekends, your holidays. Being self employed means these same sacrifices are tenfold. It beats down your body, and you will lose sleep, and sometimes your sanity.

Because this life isn’t just a job, it’s a calling. An intimate relationship with food, service and adrenalin that nothing else can match.

It's hard to explain to people who haven't worked in restaurants why I do what I do. Most don't get it. Most can't fathom the chaos. The noise. The attitude. The heat. The pressure.

"what do you mean you don't get weekends off?"

Yet it has pulled at me, from the very fibre of my being, since as far back as I can remember. No matter the bad... I've always tied up my apron, whether it stained, clean or torn. Stepped back into my tattered clogs. Picked up that knife... And continued. It really has no logic. It hasn't been comfortable...

But something about seeing someone's face light up when they taste something you've poured your soul into? That pride and joy lights up in your chest like a pilot light igniting on a stove top.

Taking raw ingredients, transforming it into art... Nobody will understand that unless you've suffered the burns and cuts to achieve that perfect plate.

Reflecting on the woulda-shoulda-coulda possibilities I've ran past in order to chase the perfect plate, I realize that life probably could have been easier. I'm smart enough for a "normal" job. Yet I've submitted myself to a life of food.

In the 5 years of running Falling Star Pantry I've failed more times than I've succeeded. I've worked longer hours than any salary position in a restaurant. I've worked harder than any job I've ever had.

I've learned that nothing comes easy. Success certainly is never easy. But I'll tie up my apron. Polish another plate. And continue. Because that calling to serve, to cook, to create, it won't die.

You want to be a chef? It has to call at you like a spectre in the abyss. Like an unmistakable beacon of destiny on the horizon. Because if there is even a sliver of doubt... It'll pour out of every crack on the surface.

It's a calling. Not a job. We know it on a DNA level. I know its woven into my being like the coding for my eye color.

What's 5 years from now going to look like doing this business? I have no idea. But, I can guarantee you, I'll be holding my knife, with my apron tied, my feet hurting, hurling towards that destination like a crazed, unstoppable lunatic.