Life, on the Line by Grant Achatz (leveled readers .TXT) 📗

positions. Not a single posting was remotely close to what I was looking for. I plugged along at the Laundry thinking I would have to change my expectations and my path. But I kept looking, almost out of habit.

One night, while scanning the fine-dining category on a job site, I stumbled across an ad for a tiny restaurant in Evanston, Illinois, called Trio. I had never heard of the place. According to the ad, Trio was a nationally acclaimed restaurant formerly run by Rick Tramanto and Gale Gand. It went on to describe the food as eclectic-fusion, offering some of the most innovative and visually dazzling presentations in Chicago. I copied all of the info down and wrote a cover letter to the owner, Henry Adaniya. But before I sent it off I figured I should ask some people about the restaurant.

I contacted Dan Swartz, who owned a company that specialized in smoked salmon and was based just outside Chicago. I had met him on one of my winter breaks from the Laundry while working with chef Stallard at a dinner at Midland Country Club. I figured if Trio was “nationally acclaimed” then a purveyor from Chicago ought to know about the restaurant and its owner.

Dan heaped praise on Henry’s character but noted that the restaurant was experiencing some recent growing pains. He told me that its current chef, Shawn McClain, was moving on to open his own place in Chicago called Spring and that information had leaked out, causing Trio to slow down. Still, on the whole it was a positive review. I thanked Dan and hung up with enthusiasm.

It sounded perfect. Henry wasn’t a chef, and from what Dan said, Trio had a history of embracing each chef’s vision for the restaurant. Certainly, the transition from Rick and Gale to Shawn produced radically different cuisines. And the restaurant did indeed garner four stars from both the Chicago Tribune and Chicago magazine.

I e-mailed my cover letter and résumé to Henry. Ten days passed with no response.

I wasn’t devastated, but I was certainly annoyed—and surprised. I had by this time developed quite an ego. I was a sous chef at The French Laundry, dammit! “This guy doesn’t know what he’s missing,” I kept telling myself. But really I was worried that perhaps my résumé was not as solid gold as I had thought.

A few more days went by when I received an e-mail from Dan telling me that he saw Henry and took the liberty of recommending that he consider me. It worked. The next day I got an e-mail from Henry introducing himself and opening a line of communication. Clearly, he was far from sold on me, as he suggested that we take the first steps via e-mail.

Our exchanges started simply with quirky questions from Henry: “What is your favorite junk food?” I didn’t really have a sense of humor about that. My response was, “None. I’m a workout fanatic and eat very healthy.” He followed that with, “You’re only twenty-five years old and have never run a kitchen by yourself. What makes you think you can possibly be ready?” And: “What is your vision for the restaurant you want to create?” I followed with lengthy replies and our dialogue continued for a month. I liked Henry’s frank and playful questions, and he must have appreciated my earnestness. At the end of the month he admitted that he had virtually no other serious candidates and he agreed to fly me to Chicago for an interview and tryout.

Because the dining experience I described in my e-mails sounded much different than what Trio was known for, Henry said it was imperative that I try to create for him a three- or four-course menu that was indicative of the style I wanted to serve. I would be cooking for a committee of one: Henry Adaniya.

It was unlikely that another opportunity like this existed anywhere in America. I knew I had to nail it.

I spent the next two weeks coming up with a seven-course menu. I was very calculated in my process. The menu would be composed of dishes that were based on flawless execution—things I could do perfectly. I would do a saddle of lamb roasted on the bone that I could present tableside and then carve. That would show that I knew the classic technique cold. But then I also wanted to show him flashes of new concepts that he had never seen before. The menu would start with the known and end with the future.

I e-mailed all of the ingredients I wanted Trio to have on hand before I arrived, followed by a precise equipment list to confirm what would be available to me in the kitchen. I wrote prep lists to prepare prep lists for the prep lists and arranged them in chronological order from the moment I stepped into the kitchen. I was thinking of every contingency I could possibly conceive of happening. Because I knew one thing for sure: when Henry saw me, he was going to think that I was sixteen years old. I looked really young and was constantly reminded of that in the Laundry kitchen.

I told myself that even if I walked into Trio and knew that it wasn’t the right place for me I would still try to blow him away. I wanted that job offer even if I didn’t want the job. That way, the choice would be mine.

I was ready.

“And by the way, Grant. I think I’m pregnant.”

My hand fell off the doorknob as I froze. My mind flashed back to a moment when a girlfriend’s mom once asked me when she would get grandchildren. I looked her square in the eye and said, “Never.”

Still facing the door I said to Angela, “That’s unlikely.”

A quick drive to Target in Napa, an hour, and a little red line would confirm it.

There is no doubt in my mind now that if I had walked out that door that day without