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One thing about learning personal discipline relatively late in life that (I wonder) if people think about is the fear of losing it.

Growing up, I was always a very principled kid, but definitely not a diligent or disciplined one. I’d put off homework and assignments to the last minute, I’d barely study, and just count on my native smarts to carry me through tests, classes, and challenges. So, for a bright kid, my grades sucked. Hard.

I don’t think I really gained self-discipline until culinary school and deciding to get in shape. For culinary school, it was finally the chance to do what I wanted. I knew how much I screwed up in school until then, and I wasn’t going to whiff this one.

In terms of getting fit, I had seen in myself and the health of loved ones that this really was self-preservation. I was angry, I had the time and energy, and (to start with) I was spiteful. If we could get spite to turn a generator, the energy crisis would be solved, and the ultimate renewable fuel source would be Twitter.

Willpower, self-control, and self discipline are like muscles. You have to work on them, gain them, develop them and train them- or you lose them.
The good news is, the more you “flex” your discipline, the more you want to.
The bad news is that, when you stop, you need to get them back.

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“Everyone Else Is Taken”- Finding Identity in the Kitchen

I absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, tell you who you are. You really shouldn’t want me to anyway. Brighter minds than mine have peeled apart the notions of “self” and “identity” for centuries (if not millenia) and even they tend to wind up shrugging and going “I dunno… it’s personal I guess.”

A portrait of Oscar Wilde in grayscale with the quote "Be yourself; everyone else is already taken."

And it is. I wrote a few weeks back about how to find your “culinary voice”– which ultimately came down to an elaborate rephrasing of “garbage in, garbage out.” That’s figuring out how to best tell your story though… finding out who you are takes people their entire lives, and is often subject to change.

So this post isn’t a “how-to”- it’s more of an exploration of the question, and especially what it means for us cooks- whether we are brand new and trying to find a place to fit in, or old hands getting flexed out of an industry that we can’t continue in and survive. Both groups- all of us, really- wind up looking at themselves in the mirror and asking, “Who are you?”

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Some Thoughts While Loafing

If you ever start to wonder just how important having. a routine is,, just wait till something comes along and messes it up.

I’ve been out of work for only one and a half weeks, but it feels so much longer. As my energy/pain levels vary from day to day (but slowly doing better!) I find myself easily losing track of time.

I’m learning, though, that’s not always a terrible thing- and maybe I was due.

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Taking a Break for Ambition

When it comes to ambition, goal setting, and planning- whenever someone says “there wasn’t room for doubt,” I don’t think that’s true. I think they didn’t MAKE room for doubt.

That sounds almost cynical and defeatist- and I suppose it could be taken that way. I won’t pretend to be some grand philosopher on that. I’m an anxious person. “Doubting” is as natural to me as lemonade on a hot day- as is planning, contingency, and fear-setting, for better or worse.

If Jesus can have a moment of doubt at Gethsemane, I’m pretty sure us poor mortals can wake up in the morning and wonder if we’re still going the way we want to in life. Those moments are important, because that’s when you make the turns that get you there. Don’t cheat yourself by removing room to doubt.

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Pies, Omelettes, and Skill with the Simple

I had been in a depressive slump for a few days. Life for me was less a series of deeds and events than a monochrome shamble from one checkpoint to another.
But when I got home to a quiet house with my wife taking an afternoon nap, I knew the fog was lifting- because I wanted to make some pie.

I weighed out the flour and cut the butter. A small measure of iced tea was poured for the liquid. Regardless of my state of mind, my hands still had the skills. The ancient wisdom still flowed through them, and they knew without my correction how to create something good. It was the quiet, meditative serenity of letting my hands move while my mind watched and convalesced- shaking off the lead cloak Depression had thrown over it.

Reconnecting to something simple, delicate, and pure.
This is the space where I think people show their true skills.

Close-up of a perfectly baked pie with a lattice crust, decorated with sparkle sugar.
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