As hard as I work on my dishes, within a few hours of being served they are going to be flushed down the toilet, followed by about twelve cents in Charmin Ultra.

I like this lady. When ever someone gets all bent out of shape at my work I tell them, "chill bro, every thing we do just amounts to piss, shit smiles and memories." It usually breaks the trance.

I'm constantly being asked where I "source" my produce. What does that even mean? I get my vegetables from the exact same place almost every other chef in the city gets them: in a box, off a truck.

I remember a guy who was asking if our chicken was free range, I told him nope, it's just chicken. He kept on "So where is it from? Is it local?" It was right out of a Portlandia skit, dude just wouldn't stop interrogating me about the damn chicken. I kept on telling politely explaining that it was just chicken with no pedigree what so ever but he couldn't hear it. Bartender I was working with leaned over after this had gone on way too long and and said "Yo, the chicken comes from a fucking truck." and kept on trying to kill off the line.