A Day in the Life of a Private Chef

 When I first met the couple that I cook for in La Jolla, I will admit I was a little intimidated.  They have a gated, gravel driveway that is lined with perfectly manicured trees.  At the end of the driveway is a brick courtyard with a fountain and more perfectly manicured trees.  Their house is beautiful and it is accessorized with a tennis court and swimming pool.  The first day I went there, I had no idea what to expect.  The lady of the house (Eileen) and their standard poodle, Wrigley,  greeted me at the door.  The door, mind you, is about 10 feet tall and glass with beautiful ironwork.  She was wearing a gorgeous navy blue ensemble that was perfectly tailored and 100% wrinkle free.  Her hair and makeup were flawless.  We sat down in the kitchen and swapped stories about food, cooking and travelling; we immediately connected, and I was hired.  I will never forget that day. 

That, unbelievably, was 5 years ago.  In that span of time, I came and went twice.  The first time I was overwhelmed with other clients.  My replacement ended up being a disaster, so I agreed to come back.  The second time I left was for reasons in my personal life.  Anyway, I have stayed in contact with them and for the past few months I have been back under their employ. 

Cooking for people on a level that is that personal is extremely rewarding.  It is challenging at times (trying to sort out recipes that don't work, or figuring out substitutions for certain ingredients, etc.), but a very close relationship develops between myself and those I cook for.  With my La Jolla family, I arrive around 3 in the afternoon.  The housekeeper, Denise, does all the food shopping and by the time I get there, she has my station all set up for me and has pulled all the ingredients I will need in order to prepare dinner.  I measure, I dice, I make salad dressings and sometimes a soup for them to stash in the freezer.  Eileen gets home usually by 4:30 and we talk about that night's meal and menus for later in the week, or even the following week.  Usually, I finish cooking by around 5:30.  I plate the courses and Denise serves it to them in their formal dining room.  What makes my heart melt is when I can hear them ooh and ah over how pretty something looks on the plate -- Leonard, the husband, especially.  He gets excited like a little boy over dinner sometimes! 

Most days, they start with a soup or a salad and then there is a main course.  After the main course is served, I do what I can to help Denise break down my station and I make my way into the dining room to see how everything is.  Wrigley, the poodle, comes to me for pets and more often than not jumps up with his giant paws on my shoulders and gives me kisses.  While I get my daily dose of dog loving, I talk with Eileen and Leonard about their dinner and make sure everything tastes OK.  Seeing them truly enjoying something I made for them makes me so happy.  My smile grows even bigger if it is a recipe that is mine that they agreed to let me make for them, or if it was a recipe that totally didn't work, that I was able to salvage.  But, hands down, it is the most gratifying job I have ever had in my life. 

And not only do I have a bond with Eileen and Leonard, but also with Denise.  She is amazing at her job and could not possibly be any sweeter.  We help each other.  I know when she is busy or is having a bad day, so I will clean up the dishes I use.  If a recipe isn't working, I ask her advice on how I should fix it.  I have my own ideas usually, but her second opinion is  always invaluable to me. 

Over the years, I have accrued many fond memories with this family.  One year, Eileen and I cooked Thanksgiving dinner together -- I will never forget it.  We even set a turkey on fire!  This is one of the previously mentioned recipes we had to fix, but everything turned out fine in the end.  My favorite spoon in their kitchen is one that is bent all out of shape.  It's the one Eileen dropped down the garbage disposal one day!  And then there was the time Leonard was trying to show Eileen how to make the dog food and she failed.  I was making risotto and, defeated, she leaned against the stove next to me and said under her breath, "I f&%$ed up the dog food." 

How does one measure success?  Without a doubt, it starts here.  Every day, I leave their home totally in love with what I do.  To enjoy something, to be good at it (or at least I think I'm good at it), and to be able to share that with others is without a doubt one of the most gratifying things on earth.