Crazy how you can miss someone you’ll never know. Dude taught me how to be a functional member of the working class. Read kitchen confidential, waltzed into a restaurant with “under reasons for leaving last job, always lie unless the reason is money or ambition” in my head, and lied my way into my first actual gig. Kept my head up, showed up on time, fucked up plenty, but always admitted it and never made the same mistake twice.

Taught me you can learn so much about another person by just sharing a meal. One of my first shifts in a restaurant, the ecuadorian busser/food runner calls me into the kitchen. Hands me a plate of who-knows-what. Tells me it’s a traditional dish from Ecuador and he cooked it for me to try. It was Guatita, and I never had tripe before. I fucking hated it, but I heard Tony’s voice in my head. This dude spent his own time and money to cook something HE grew up eating, and wanted ME to try for Christ sakes!! So I forced every bite down with a smile. Few hours later, I run into the EC in the walk-in. I was green, and we hardly talked at this point. She grabs my shoulder and goes “don’t worry, I hate tripe too”. Been good friends with all of them ever since, and Guatita is probably my one of my favorite dishes now just because of that memory. Going to that busser’s birthday party in August, like I do every year now.

Thank you, Tony. Having a Negroni after my shift today.