How Did I Get Here?

I feel like no one really knows my real food story so here we go…

In 2016, Ian and I went to Cambridge, UK on a working holiday and from the moment I stepped into Aromi for my first day of work (after 3 months in ag research where I thought my life was ending.. dramatic, I know), I knew there was nowhere else I would rather be than in a restaurant. Yeah, the hours suck and there’s no respect from anyone (except your coworkers, cause they get it) and you’re not making a ton of cash. But I never in my life felt so dang happy. I didn’t press snooze 100 times in the morning because I was excited to go to my job. In fact, for two years in Winnipeg before we went to England, it was a literal struggle to convince myself out of bed to go to work. I realize not many people would enjoy standing at a til, shouting orders, making coffee, filling panini, cooking pizza, running food, doing dishes, bussing tables, tending to the toilets for 8 hours and then scrubbing down an entire restaurant for another two (honestly, CLEANEST restaurant of all time) but I LOVED it. Behind the counter, there were 5 people working but I swear there was really only room for two. It was the best. And I only dropped one pizza.

So, we came back to Winnipeg in February, 2017 and by the first week of March, I found myself a job as front of house in a small Aussie breakfast/lunch joint. Loving life. I also started hostessing in fine dining in the fall and while I didn’t particularly like hostessing because patrons treated me like I was a complete idiot, I learned SO much about running a restaurant. Ian moved for his job in November and I stayed in Winnipeg until April. I wasn’t ready to leave my jobs, honestly. By mid April I was all packed up and got a job as a line cook. That was a first. I had been front of house for almost two years and hadn’t yet ventured to the other side. It’s an interesting place and I learned a TON in a few short months. But then I started to panic because it was a seasonal job and I didn’t know what the heck I was going to do in my small town once the season was over. This office position came up. I did this job in Winnipeg pre-England, so I figured I would give it a whirl. I was hired. I had a winter from hell. I missed the restaurant scene. We also had a dog that made our lives interesting but not in a good way. So, a little over a month ago, I gave notice at my job. I couldn’t do it anymore. It wasn’t anything to do with the job itself, it was just me.

I needed to get back into the biz. I needed to fill the hole that was deep in my heart. People would ask how work was and I would say “Fine, busy” with that fake smile that you use when you don’t feel like talking about something. You know the one. I needed to hear clanging of dishes. Sizzle of a grill. A sharp knife slicing through a tomato. Smell of fresh herbs. The thrill (yes, thrill) of pitting an avocado and praying you don’t slice your hand off. I needed to complain about the endless modifications people make to perfectly good menu items (honestly, stop asking for mods, you guys). I missed the sound of espresso beans being ground and a shot being pulled. The clang of unwanted dimes in a tip jar. I’m getting damn goosebumps writing this.

An opportunity presented itself to me that I could not pass up. I didn’t even have to think about it.. I mean, obviously I responded with “I’ll think about it.” but in my mind, I knew there was nothing to think about. So here we are a little over a month later and I’m out of the office and back into the kitchen. “Kitchen Manager” it says on the time sheet. Who would have ever thought? The commute is twice as long.. meaning I now walk 15 minutes to work instead of 7… rough, I know. My creative juices are flowing again so I can post new recipes for you all on here. And I get to help develop a menu in the restaurant so that’s pretty cool.

It’s a weird thing, life. When I was in high school, I would have thought by now that I would be a physiotherapist (HAAHAH), married (check), with kids (no check) and probably living in a city that is not in the Prairies (no check). But here I am, 29, drinking coffee out of my Aromi mug, just figuring out what it is I am meant to do with my life.. living in the Prairies. Eventually the panic will subside that I am becoming ancient and just figuring it out and boy, will I enjoy the ride.

Dream big dreams, be reckless and make sure you sign up for my newsletter so you don’t miss a thing
– L

PS – If you were a fan of my blog, Ginger on the Loose, I plan on making this section of my website basically the Fancy Napkins version. Prepare yourself to laugh and roll your eyes a lot. If you’ve never read my old university blog, you’d best click that link and start reading. It’s a treat.