Life, on the Line by Grant Achatz (book club reads .txt) 📕

Angela and I met at the restaurant in 1996. She was by then already considered a longtime employee, one of the few people around that knew the “old” French Laundry. That basically meant the period between 1994, when the Laundry opened, until the first of many major renovations in 1996, just before I arrived. Angela and a few other veterans would tell stories about taking reservations while sitting on milk crates, since there was no real furniture around. Thomas would create four-star meals from a residential stove and refrigerator in a kitchen the size of a small bathroom. Angela had worked during that heady time as a reservationist, hostess, and, as the restaurant grew, the director of group sales and private events.

When I left, everyone there thought I had committed career suicide. So to make a splash with the Food & Wine article somehow legitimized my departure, at least in my mind, and this phone call from someone at the Laundry let me know that they had indeed seen it. It felt great.

After working at the winery for ten months I realized I wanted to be more entrepreneurial and to start making some money.

I talked to Bill about starting my own wine label, and he agreed to help me get going by giving me some space in the La Jota cellar and loaning me a few old barrels. He put me in touch with key people to help buy quality grapes. I started taking viticulture and winemaking classes at Napa Valley College three nights per week and making industry connections to give me insight into how to plan for my own bottling.

The idea was to start small—by necessity but also by choice. If I could find a vineyard owner willing to sell me a ton of grapes, I could produce two barrels, or about seven hundred bottles of wine. It was a modest plan, but doable.

As time went on, the work at the winery slowed significantly compared to the high season when we crushed the grapes. Most of my days were spent doing vineyard work such as installing irrigation lines and planting rootstock, pruning the vines, repairing trellises, and weeding. I was farming. It was a side of the wine industry I hadn’t considered. The pace slowed, and as it did my desire to make my own wine waned. I became anxious about what I was doing with my life.

I talked about these uncertainties with my mom and Mark, and both of them suggested I return to The French Laundry. I had no idea how I could possibly do that. It had crossed my mind, but I couldn’t see myself joining the team having missed nearly a year. I would be pushed back down through the ranks in terms of seniority, and more significantly there would be the awkwardness of my relationship with chef Keller. I went from being one of his most dedicated cooks to—in my mind—letting him down.

One morning I popped in to see Bill and get my tasks for the day. He wasn’t in yet but his daughter, who handled some office work for him, was behind the desk. She said hello and handed me a piece of paper. “There was a message on the machine for you this morning.”

I looked down at the Post-it note and saw the name “Thomas,” followed by the familiar number of the French Laundry kitchen. I walked outside in a confused panic. Why would he be calling?

Chef Keller and I played phone tag for a couple of days before we were able to connect. When we finally talked I was surprised to find his manner warm and friendly. He asked about the winery, how I was doing in general, and what was new. This was the first time I had ever heard him make small talk. Finally, he got to the point of the call. “So, I have a sous chef position opening up. Are you interested?”

I was flabbergasted. “I am hugely interested, Chef. But give me a few days to think about it, if you could.”

The decision was not completely cut and dry. Despite thinking that perhaps winemaking was not for me, I greatly appreciated Bill, La Jota, and everything I had learned there. I found the free time wonderful as well. I had never had a seven-hour workday in my life, and I now had time to devote to other interests. But with all the stress of a long-distance relationship and different long-term goals, Cindy and I had broken up. And without her around, I really had no other interests. I returned to The French Laundry as a sous chef in June 1999.

CHAPTER 11

I was only at the winery for ten months but the Laundry had gone through significant changes in my absence. Chef Keller was spending more time away from the restaurant, and many of the faces in the kitchen were new. Eric was promoted to chef de cuisine and Greg to sous chef. The restaurant had become more corporate in its organization—the cooks had a posted schedule to follow instead of arriving whenever they felt they had to in order to accomplish the work, a series of clipboards outlining tasks hung on the kitchen wall, and the kitchen management was asked to post entries in a journal after each shift. Instead of having one expediting station there were now two. Chef Keller would still call in the tickets but focused primarily on the canapé and fish stations. Because the majority of my time on the line was at the fish station, chef Keller typically had me take over for him when he was away. I was twenty-five years old and standing in the shoes of one of the most respected chefs in the world.

In a conversation with Angela at work one morning, I mentioned that I was running out of time to find a new place to live. Conveniently, she was looking for a roommate. The fact that I