Prep Lists, Burnout, and the Pivot That Sparked Well Seasoned

How a Michelin Line, a Mid-Service Flu, and Three Kids Led Me to the Life I Actually Wanted

There’s an unmistakable rush that comes with working a fine-dining line—equal parts adrenaline and controlled panic. My days at Perry Street started in the dark: 5:30 a.m. subway rides from Queens, slipping into the basement entrance, chef whites on, knife roll unzipped, shuffle to the walk-in.

The Relentless Rhythm

• Morning juggle: Hauling crates from the freezer, weighing proteins, parcooking garnishes, and praying my prep list would be finished before the clock struck family meal.

• Service pressure: Miss one item and you’re behind for the next several hours—no breaks, no do-overs, just constant restocking and ticket calls.

• Mise en place or misery: The lesson I still shout from the rooftops—organized prep is every cook’s best friend, whether you’re plating for a tasting menu or Tuesday night dinner at home.

When Passion Met Sexism (and Fatigue)

Most afternoons ended with an entitled dinner-shift line cook leaning across my station: “Could you bang out some carpaccio before you go.” Translation: Do my work after your ten-hour shift. Being the lone woman in the kitchen, I swallowed my frustration and sliced paper-thin rounds of avocado and king oyster mushrooms while the clock—and my patience—ran out.

Restaurant Week: A Two-Week Marathon

If you’ve ever scored a bargain tasting menu in January or July, know that behind the curtain every prep cook is praying for mercy. Two fixed-price menus meant twice the mise en place, same paycheck, and zero overtime. By the end I was surviving on coffee, wine, and sheer willpower.

The 1st time I made Italian Rainbow Cookies (2011!) — hilariously, these are photographed on a dining room chair.

The Flu (and the Ultimatum)