Its 3:15 and time to get started on another day. The three Vicodens I took before bed have worn off, my hands hurt, and my feet hurt too, pain radiates up to the knees, which add their own voice to the chorus. I'm psyching myself up for the long walk to the bathroom, an exercise I will no doubt perform with all the grace and ease a one legged man is capable of.

I can’t remember what it was like not feel constant pain, after a while you just live with it. By the time the second pot of coffee is perking, I’ve mastered the mechanics of walking and balancing, and can now wrap my ankles. It’s a lot to go through but it beats being in a wheelchair. 


For me, cooking has been a life-long love affair of food, with moments both sublime and ridiculous. But like an old love affair, you only remember the happy times — the things that, attracted you in the first place, the things that kept you coming back again and again. I hope I can give the reader a taste of those things and those times. I've never regretted the unexpected left turn that left me half-paralyzed and often confused. And I've always believed that good food, good eating is all about the risk. Whether we're talking about raw oysters or working in a professional kitchen as a chef - food for me, has always been an adventure. 
What better way to prepare for my new life than starting a Cafe?