At Soba, the stove has had no knobs for a long, long time. Controlling heat on the six high-pressure gas burners could be a painful task, forcing all of your upper body strength into turning a hot steel rod which was, in most cases, fused in place by carbon accumulation.

But the other day, the Southbend people finally came through, and fitted new plastic dials onto the jagged metal. Today, working sautè was like the Christmas miracle for me. I mean, you may think things like this don't matter much in a kitchen. But it's the stupid, insignificant details like stove knobs, or not having enough two ounce ladles, that destroy you. At one point, we had a fucking fork tied to a string, hanging off the oven door, that we used as a wrench to work the stove. Anyway, these are the kind of problems that the people who make your food have.

I went to the Carnegie Museum before work today, to see the exhibit on Louis Comfort Tiffany. Aside from the collection itself being incredible, it was so refreshing to do something cultural with my life before stepping on the line. For awhile I thought the untraditional schedule we cooks are cursed with was, well, destroying my life, but lately I've realized that it's quite an advantage. Things are just better when you don't work nine to five as a corporate drone.