Hospitality, My Drug of Choice

I've never been much of a drinker. I've never smoked, never taken drugs, and these days I'm happily married. By most hospitality standards, I'm probably a pretty boring bloke. Yet after more than thirty-five years in this industry, I can honestly say that I do have an addiction.

My drug of choice is hospitality.

For people who have never worked in a commercial kitchen, that probably sounds ridiculous. Most people see hospitality as a job. They see waiters carrying plates, chefs standing behind stoves and managers dealing with customers. What they don't see is the feeling that keeps so many of us coming back, year after year, despite the long hours, the pressure and the sacrifices.

It's difficult to explain unless you've lived it.

There is a moment before every busy service that still gives me a buzz. The bookings are full, the dining room is about to fill up, and the team is making final preparations. You stand there looking at two hundred reservations and wonder how you're going to get through the next few hours. Everyone looks calm on the surface, but underneath, the adrenaline is already building.

Then the first orders arrive.

The printer starts chattering. Pans hit the stove. Butter foams. Garlic hits a hot pan. The grill begins to smoke and the fryer comes to life. The pass starts filling with dockets, and suddenly the quiet preparation of the afternoon transforms into organised chaos.

In a good kitchen, something remarkable happens at that point.

It becomes an orchestra.

Everyone knows their role. Everyone understands the rhythm. The larder section moves in sync with the grill. The grill works with the pans. The pass controls the flow. Front of house and back of house move together as a single team. Hundreds of small decisions are made every minute, yet somehow everything keeps moving forward.

The food leaves the kitchen hot. The presentation is consistent. The customers are happy. Of course, in hospitality, you'll never please everyone all the time, but when the systems are right and the preparation has been done properly, you can handle almost anything that comes your way.

That's the feeling that people outside the industry rarely understand.

The addiction isn't the chaos.

It's the control inside the chaos.

It's watching a team perform at its best under pressure. It's seeing an apprentice finally nail a technique they've been struggling with for weeks. It's the pride on their face when the sauce doesn't split, the pastry works perfectly or the steak is cooked exactly as intended. It's the confidence that comes from knowing they've just taken another step towards becoming a professional.

Then there are the customers.

One of my favourite moments has always been watching a plate arrive at a table. Before the first bite is taken, you can often see the reaction. There's a pause. A smile. Sometimes a look of surprise. In that moment, all the planning, preparation and effort suddenly become worthwhile. You've created something that gives another person enjoyment, even if it's only for an hour or two.

That's a special thing.

Hospitality gets into your blood because every service is different. Every day presents a new challenge. Every team develops its own personality. Some nights are hard, some are unforgettable, and some remind you exactly why you chose this profession in the first place.

It's certainly not an easy industry. Hospitality takes your nights, your weekends and many of the moments that other people take for granted. It can test your patience, your body and your relationships. There are easier ways to make a living.

But every now and then, you experience one of those magical services where everything clicks.

The team is focused. The dining room is buzzing. The food is consistent. The customers are enjoying themselves. The kitchen is loud, hot and alive. For a few hours, the outside world disappears and all that matters is the next docket, the next plate and the next table.

When that happens, there is nowhere else I'd rather be.

After all these years, I still love the smell of a busy kitchen. I still love the sound of service in full swing. I still love watching young chefs develop their skills and confidence. Most of all, I still love being part of a team working together towards a common goal.

That's why I've stayed in hospitality for so long.

Not because it's easy.

Not because it makes you rich.

But because there is no feeling quite like a kitchen in full flight.

The smell. The noise. The pressure. The rhythm. The people. The pride.

Hospitality is my drug of choice.

And after all these years, I'm still addicted.

‍