Edible art!

Some people draw.

Some people play music.

Painters, sketchers, graffiti artists... everywhere.

I'm great friends with a lot of people that do amazing things with tattoo guns.

I used to think I wasn't a very artistic person. Until I got into the field of culinary. Peek through this window, if you will.

Imagine a 100 degree art studio with sweltering steam in one corner and blistering dry heat in another.

Imagine faucets running, metal slamming, hisses, sizzles, scraping aluminum, screaming, porcelain jiggling together like a wind chime in a hurricane.

All the while stories and jokes you would (or at least should) be embarrassed to say or even hear around your mother are spouting off between "EARS!" "ORDER UP!" "RUNNER PLEASE!" "FRIES DOWN, 3 ALL DAY!" being shouted as if mortars are landing in the dining room and we're the last of the front line. It feels more like war than an environment for creation.

To most people, anyways.

To the tried and true that I know, including myself, it's a sanctuary. I forget about my debts and drama and issues when I'm on the line. Myself as well as my coworkers work day in and day out in the aforementioned environment, and love every second of it. It's a chance to get our minds off of the troubles around us and do what we love: create beautiful food.

The hoity toity foodies that enjoy our creations probably wouldn't expect such a beautiful plate came from such a foul mouthed tattooed hooligan sneaking his after-shift drink at the bar. The pretty little plates that get set in front of you are our passion.

A painter pleases your eye.

A musician your ear.

A chef, your sense of smell, taste, and visual aesthetics are all considered in every menu item we make and especially every chef special we create. The next time you're at a decent restaurant, get the chef's special. Not some diner or greasy spoon where the special is what needs to be sold before spoil, but a decent sit down place. Doesn't even have to be the most expensive place on the block, but 9 times out of 10 that chef's special is a cared for newborn for the day that we culinary artists want to share with you, hoping to make our art a passion for you, as well.

Forget the starving artists. We're the artists that keep you from starving.

What's in the rearview mirror: My beginning

When I was a little kid I tried to draw like my friends. I failed miserably. I tried to create music using a guitar. Curse my fat fingers! Apart from drums, I never learned another instrument. I grew up in Blackhawk, Colorado where pavement is sparse. Skateboarding was out of the question. My only talent as a child was hauling a bigwheel to the top of my driveway and hauling ass down until the death wobble took over and I toppled end over end, cried my face off, and dragged that bigwheel back up to do it again. Aaaah, mountain living. Ok, so I was a pretty talentless little kid.

Around 13 I got sick of fighting with my siblings to pass the time while mom and dad worked. So I ventured into the cupboards. What started as undercooked noodles and a can of tomatoes turned into burritos and mini calzones made with a crust of flour and water. Sauce too runny? I bet if I mix flour in it will fix that. At 13 I didn't understand the necessity of consolidated fat cooked down with the flour to make a roux, but I was halfway there! I was cooking up a storm to pass the time. And most of it wan't half bad!

My first job was as a door person at a little casino in Blackhawk. I was covering for a friend for the weekend and they decided to hire me on, but rather in the kitchen. I manned a "cook your own steak" steakhouse. I assisted in making sides and such, but nothing out of line for a 14 year old. When the steakhouse closed, I was moved down to the prep kitchen to make nasty, greasy bar food that was kept behind the bar in a hotbox to be scooped out to order. I was essentially moved back to being a doorperson until I ventured into the world of valet, and back again to the door. I was denied any sort of advancement after that due to my liprings and tattoo. After finally having enough, I took the rings out for a job interview elsewhere on the last day of my 2 week notice. The owner of the casino noticed they were gone and immediately offered me a short order cooking position behind the bar at his new casino. Upside? Amazing pay. Downside? It was frozen burgers and fried food. I did this for years before being fired for calling in once.

I got a job as a prep cook for a casino buffet shortly after. It was "food in bags in steamy water" sort of stuff. I learned knife skills, but nothing much about cooking.

At 19, I decided to move in with a friend in Vegas. After a month of not finding a job, I finally landed a gig as a banquet cook at the Palms. I had no idea what I was in for. I went from opening cans to trying to make tons of foods I'd never even heard of from scratch! I was asked to make a 4-cup mire poix and chiffinade 4 leaves of basil. I had no freaking clue what just came out of my chef's mouth! The chef had hired someone far more green than he'd anticipated, so he pulled me aside. He told me to buy notebooks and never be without one. He told me he wouldn't fire me so long as he didn't have to teach me the same thing twice. I held on by the seat of my pants for 4 months before I got homesick and the chef got tiresome. I moved back to Colorado and got a job at the casino with the buffet. This time as a kitchen lead. This time knowing I wanted to spend the rest of my life becoming a chef.

I was transferred to the fine dining restaurant as soon as there was an opening. I ran that line with one of my greatest friends ever for 2 years. The cheap beer and long nights consuming it eventually led to some bad decisions on our part ending in our termination. If I could go back, I wouldn't change it.

I landed a job at Nine75 North, Troy Guard and Sullivan Group's 2nd Nine75 restaurant where I learned that the "fine dining" gig at the casinos was a joke. I was finally really cooking! Fresh fish and great produce, everything from scratch, gastriques, romulades, reductions! We were young chefs having the times of our lives! Creating, teaching, learning, growing off each other! Jim closed the restaurant on July 4th, 2008.

I got a call from my chef on July 5th telling me to be at Nine75 Downtown at 9 the next morning. That was the morning I met Charles Sinden. He threw me on the line and made 3 soups and 2 sauces at the same time explaining to me every ingredient in each one faster than I could write in my little pocket notebook. I was the new Nine75 Lunch guy under who would become the chef I will (and have!) drop my goingons to go work for. We ran Nine75 for about 6 months before Jim decided he wanted out of the restaurant business and closed it.

We all worked odd jobs while the fine dining industry was in the can. I even got an opportunity to open my own breakfast joint in Golden, only to train myself out of a job. Lesson #1 to running your own ship!

I now work under Charley at The Lobby restaurant. We hired my sous chef and best friend from the casino restaurant to work our obscenely busy lunch rushes. Between the three of us, it's the greatest place to work, create, dine, be.