A League of His Own: José

Enrolling at the CIA back in 2008 (not that CIA...the Culinary Institute of America), I knew that I would have the chance to apply for an externship at a restaurant anywhere in the world at the start of my second year. Not that just any restaurant would take a culinary school brat, but the school would approve most any restaurant that would. Having had the chance to visit Spain on a high school Spanish trip, I had become infatuated with the vibrant culture, and in particular, how central their paprika'd, Moorish-influenced, seafood-heavy cuisine was to life in their country. I set out to New York to start one of the greatest adventures and challenges of my life gunning for a return to Spain for my externship.

You're immediately full immersed in training in the trade school environment. The welcome week scenario that my peers were experiencing as liberal arts college freshmen contrasted sharply with the rigorous schedule and competitive edge of the CIA. Pretty immediately we were introduced to the idea of externship and encouraged to seek out an opportunity for ourselves. I was becoming intimidated by all that it would take to be an international extern around the time that I discovered José Andrés...the ambassador of Spanish food to the United States. In the database of approved extern sites in the school's system were a handful of restaurants located in Washington D.C., concepts of this man, a gregarious Spaniard who happened to have a show on PBS. I won't forget the night I binged the first season of Made in Spain in the school library. This late night indulgence clinched my decision to go after a spot in one of his kitchens.

Jaleo :). Jaleo translates to revelry...lively celebration...commotion. Jaleo, located in Penn Quarter, a few blocks from the National Mall, was José's first restaurant opened in the early nineties to showcase regional Spanish tapas, or small plates. It sits on a bustling corner right off the Chinatown Metro station. I won't forget my dad pulling up to that very corner on the second day of the year, having driven me from Dayton to test for an externship. One full lunch shift shadowing a prep cook in Jose Andres' premier restaurant, I was maximally keyed up. At least it was a weekday lunch shift. I sustained that level of intensity throughout the shift, which is maybe why I can hardly remember the tasks I was given. I just remember Rodolfo, the executive chef at the time coming to grab me to sit down at a two-top in my chef whites, nervous as hell. He ordered us a table-full of tapas and we enjoyed a meal together as he asked me about where I was from and what my interests were in the culinary scene. I felt sick from nervousness, but broke bread with him. When he asked if I wanted anything else, I took that as a foreshadowing of bad news. When I said I was satisfied, he reached across the table and shook my hand, then offered me a three month internship (paid!). That sort of hospitality was just a peek behind the curtains of a culture I didn't know existed in kitchens.

A few months later and a sublet apartment secured in Alexandria, I was showing up for my first shift on the line. It was the start of a work experience which would trigger a fervor in me. I stepped into a world that was different from the typical kitchen which evolved from the brigade system, and has become broken by overwork, and under-paid and -considered staff. I was Alice, awakening to a colorful oasis, where the well being of the team was prioritized, and the food put out was better for it. A hustling, happy place where the front and back of the house jived and the staff went to each other's family functions. Fresh ingredients were sourced locally, farmers from the Shenandoah Valley celebrated on the menu and at staff meetings, inspiring my foray into local food. We were working hard, putting out a lot of food at tapas pace (much more complicated than the typical appetizer, entree, dessert construct), and it felt like I would happily keep on trucking through the dinner shift. It wasn't long before I realized that this culture was born from José, a person impressive in a much more important way than his restaurant accolades and tv personality.

A few weeks in, I was prepping at my station, focused, head down, trying to translate the eavesdropped Spanish Elmer and Juan were dishing, when I heard someone approaching from the dining room, chatting with another cook down the line about their kids...all in Spanish. You see, at any one time, there were seven of us on the line and a floating sous chef. Besides the sous' and the executive chef, the back of the house spoke various dialects of Spanish as their first language, and very limited English words or phrases. A kitchen needs to communicate and coordinate during the prep hours and during service. All six years of Spanish language in school be damned, I was truly learning the language for the first time in addition to Spanish cooking. My language learning occupied as much space as my culinary notes in my little pocket notebook. And anytime I got stuck on a phrase or word, I'd jot it down to translate at the end of the day. Anyhow, this chatty person was highly familiar to the staff, everyone seemed so relaxed, maybe it was a dish guy I hadn't met yet, or a server back from time off. "How are you?" called me back from eavesdropping. It was José, my first time meeting him. To make sense of my shock, I'll tell you that at that point he had already achieved celebrity chef status and oversaw a restaurant group of seven different DC restaurants as well as championing DC Central Kitchen, an incredibly viable nonprofit combating hunger and poverty by providing job training and providing fresh food to the communities that need it. That was the first time I met him and I'm not sure I even answered him in my stunned silence. I don't doubt that he is just as down to earth even now since achieving more acclaim, even having been awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom for his humanitarian work with his World Central Kitchen.

I would go on to see him sporadically throughout my time at Jaleo. We had a staff picnic at a local park and it was hard to pick him out of the crowd, being so familiar with everyone, immersed in the games. At some point I elected to head to the local farmers market with one of the sous chefs to help cook a 9-foot paella with vegetables from the participating farmers to hand out to all the marketgoers. José dropped by with his two young daughters, one of whom was celebrating a birthday. Once everyone was being served, he asked if I would light candles on a surprise cake he had waiting in the wings. We all sang happy birthday, market goers, Jaleo-staff and the his family alike and sat on the curb to share cake together. Within my last month at Jaleo, I was invited to spend a day staging at each of his other restaurants, where I found similar, unicorn kitchen environments buzzing with the same inviting energy.

José is a larger than life kind of person, almost like some archetypal character that I can't quite narrow down, and can only be from the page of a book. The Hero? The Caregiver? The Everyman? If anything, he exemplifies making the road by walking it. His story reminds me that there IS a different way forward than succumbing to the combative, tribalist, divided culture that is pervasive today. The mold and the paradigm can be broken. You can see hate in the world and take it as an opportunity to act in love. You can see other people who act or think differently than you as people shaped by their own life experiences. In coexisting you can even encourage people to challenge their own paradigm and live more true to themselves, which would undoubtedly make the world a better place. I wish everyone could have had the chance as a young, malleable person to work for someone like José, who has rewritten the role of a powerful person by generating goodwill and opening doors for people, and who has resisted the temptation to bathe in his glory. And who never fails to make lots of room for revelry.

Thank you for reading.

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