Michelin Star; Gerald Sombright; Chefs
On a summer evening in an energy-packed, lightly air-conditioned tent at the Orlando Ritz-Carlton, I stood in my chef coat with my stomach in turmoil, eagerly waiting to hear an announcement. I picked up whispers of congratulations and acknowledgements that our team at Knife & Spoon had won a coveted star for our restaurant, but I wouldn’t let myself believe it until the words were uttered by the president of Le Guide Michelin.
We had done it.
I did it.
All of the nights spent breaking down chicken or portioning lobster. The early mornings, the hours of family missed. All the sacrifices I’d made as I was vying to be better and desiring to be the best, working my way up to be chef de cuisine. Choosing where and what I cook over how much I was compensated. Honestly I only wanted to be respected by my contemporaries and have excellent technique. To be a cook amongst cooks and stand at the helm of my own brigade and march them through service victoriously night after night.
That was enough until it wasn’t.
By Gerald Sombright