Stewarding at my Lodge
Freezing my nuts off in the "Week without Power".
At the Potions Lounge in New Orleans.
Hanging on Bourbon Street.
In front of the Legendary, Gaido's during the days after Covid.
Learning about cultural appropriation at Spirit Halloween, when I found out I'm a costume.
2024 annual photo of me with crawdad heads on my fingers.
Just who the hell do I think I am?
I think I’m me. That’s all. And I reject the question outright. It relies on the argument from authority fallacy, and I don’t care how much knowledge or IQ someone has—it doesn’t automatically make an argument true. Or false, for that matter.
I wasn’t always like this. Back in the '90s, I wanted to do exactly what I’m doing now. But I didn’t—because I didn't think I had the authority. What business did I have talking about food on the internet? (Yes, we had it back then.) I was a young nobody working in engineering. So I went to cooking school, looking for that authority.
I did chase this for a while, though not long enough. Bills had to be paid, money had to be earned, and before I knew it, I had wasted 30 years, focusing on the wrong things, never realizing I could have done what I wanted all along. The desire was what mattered. The rest would have figured itself out.
Here’s what I’ve learned about “authority”: It’s not real. It’s just handcuffs for your psyche.
Yes, I’ve worked as a professional chef. Yes, I’m Cordon Bleu trained. Yes, I’ve taught cooking professionally.
So fucking what?
Life has shown me, over and over again, that credentials don’t mean shit. Why? In simple terms—people suck.
Without context, that sounds harsh, so let me explain.
When I was teaching at a local community college, several instructors from prestigious schools would come in, do their thing, and leave. But there was one guy, a working chef, who ran the kitchen for all of us. He was ten times the chef of anyone there, myself included. But because he had come up from the line instead of attending culinary school, he was treated like a peasant.
When we first got to know each other, he always deferred to me, assuming I was one of them. Finally, I asked him what that was about.
He shrugged and said, “It’s what’s expected of me. You all have degrees.”
Keep in mind—he could cook circles around us. But we had papers.
I looked at him and asked, “Bob, do you know what my degree actually means?”
“No,” he replied.
“It means the check cleared. It doesn’t make me better.”
See? People suck. It’s people buying into the argument from authority that kept an actual expert in the shadows.
I was onto something back then. But there was more, of course.
After a year and a half of teaching at that same school, I suddenly “didn’t have the right credentials” and got fired. So I took one last restaurant job, which lasted about six months before we parted ways. Why? Because in that world, credentials didn’t matter—and I didn’t have the balls to walk away when I knew I wasn’t a good fit. Integrity is great, but it doesn’t pay the mortgage. But that’s a different story for a different day.
In my other career—the one that burned me out—I was once asked how I knew so much about a particular engineering design package. My answer?
“I’ve fucked up more than anyone else and had to fix it before anyone noticed.”
True story.
But I still hadn’t learned my lesson, so I went back to college and got another degree, thinking it would finally give me the upper hand in the whole authority argument. Spoiler: It didn’t. Because—say it with me—people suck.
And here’s where it all comes together.
By buying into the argument from authority, you give up your power. And the shitty part? You’re giving that power to people who know you need their approval. And once you do that? It’s Dance, monkey, dance! until you retire, die, or wake the fuck up.
So, who the hell do I think I am?
I’m someone who decided I don’t need permission. That’s what gives me the “authority” to be a food blogger, shoot my videos, and do whatever the hell else I want.
I know how to cook. I certainly know how to eat. I know why I cook. I know what’s happening in my pot. I can read a recipe and have a pretty good idea how it’ll turn out before I ever crack an egg.
And yet—none of that matters. Because authority is just subjective bullshit.
I don’t do this to be considered an expert. I do it because I want to. Because I love it.
I don’t care if people think I’m a jackass. That’s not a new
sensation for me, honestly.
I don’t care if anyone watches my stuff or buys my recipes. I’m going to keep doing it anyway—because I need to. For me.
“But don’t you want an audience?”
Yeah, sure. But I don’t need one.
I’m gonna cook anyway. It's what I do. I’m just another damn cook (Get it?) on the internet, doing my thing.
So that’s my “About Me” bullshit. And honestly? Even having one feels like giving in to the argument from authority.
I just hope I wrote it in a way that makes my argument from authority clear—I have none.
And that’s fantastic.
Now go cook something.