Sunday, September 14, 2008


Along with a passion for cooking, I am also a self taught musician. This is actually quite common in the culinary fields, because, just like the good chefs, good musicians are creative, obsessive nut jobs. I taught my self how to play, guitar, piano, harmonica, and some other, various instruments, along with the help of my wife (she’s a musician as well). Over the past 15 or so years, she and I, have amassed a large quantity of instruments and equipment. For Father’s Day, 2 or 3 years ago, the kids bought me a recording interface for the computer, and I began to experiment with writing and recording.
I was messing around one day on the synthesizer, and came up with some really cool hip hop sounding tracks. I’ve never been shot…..I‘ve never joined a gang….I’ve never been caught in a drug raid (but came close a couple of times, more on that later)……I thought about what on earth I could boast about in the spirit of true hip hop fashion.
It was perfect. I was going to write this song about what it meant to be a chef. All I need was a copy of The Cooks Companion, and that would give way more than enough rhymes to go around. After about 2-3 days of writing and rewriting, “CHEF” was complete. You may listen to the song by pressing play on the music player located on the sidebar to the left

You may download a free copy here:

There lyrics are as follows:
Emeril Lagasse aint got nothing on me,
I Crack the can, and then “BAM,” it’s the essence of me
I’m a true cook of the real gastronomy
On the line, there’s no time for celebrity
You’ll be amazed when you gaze upon my crudités
A work of grace when my vegetables are all displayed
It’s insane the cascade I can make with a blade
Monet would faint eating off my stunning buffets
Sautéed, flambé, canapés, soufflé,
Hollandaise, fish fumet, bouillabaisse, cassoulet
Rabbit legs, lightly braised, add some wine and deglaze
Veloute, béarnaise, consommé, just to taste
The crème bruleé, that I create, are from the stuff that dreams are made
The formulas, they fabricate, are from a state, of constant grace
The berries that macerate, they make you want to masturbate,
They illustrate and demonstrate, and take the shape of something great
Whether it’s foie gras, demi glace, special sauce, demi tasse
Artois, bear claw, whatever you need
Butter beans, green peas, confit, Kobe beef,
Candy beets, pigs feet, mince meat, let’s eat
Thin sheets, in between, crispy leaves, pumpkin seeds
Lean and mean, when I bleed, it’s a stream of heavy cream
Green beans, almandine, would you like an aperitif?
I’m the only iron chef, “Allay Cuisine”

My mis en place, is all collected,
My favorite tongs, they’re all selected
The flames are hot and burning steady
When service starts, you better be ready

I’m a modern day Escoffier; I cannot stand that Rachael Ray
She makes me hang my head in shame, every time I hear her name
It’s humiliating, every time, I see fellow chef of mine,
Selling souls to corporate slime, hanging out on billboard signs
Advertising everything from crispy crème, to apple bees
And selling heaps, of worthless things, of gadgetry and doohickeys
Shopping sprees of disbelief, hocking things like luncheon meats
Faces on a box of beef, thieving every pound of steam
But enough of them, here’s more of me,
Time to lean, time to clean side towel on my apron strings
Cause you best believe, it’s time to see, the endless need
Of guests to feed, from Ala King to chicken wings, and everything that’s in between
Like quinoa, brunoise, mirepoix, baklava,
Nicoise, beurre noir, even pate de canard,
Even the sushi I produce, would have Nobu, getting loose
And my lovely chocolate mousse, make you want to reproduce,
It’s no use when my en croute, makes you want to follow suit
Tag along in my pursuit, in the magnitude of food
All the food magazines, want to sample my terrines,
All the restaurants in town, they all want my recipes,
Like my luscious baked brie, make the fearless want to scream
Cause I want to make you see, just how food is supposed to be
I use fat back, and stack the flap jacks so that
Your lips smack, so fast, your chin strap snaps back,
My lamb racks attack the fact that you have
The knack to cast back, a mass of snack packs
My resume is so extensive, portfolio is so impressive
I convey with me a vital message, to the ones in our profession
With out a single question, jam sessions of digestion
Courses in succession, always using wise discretion
God bless all you chefs, day to day in the stress
It’s the ones that obsess, to make their food a great success
Tireless, in the mess, 80 hours more or less,
Bring respect, and perfect, a profession of rejects
I would take no less, this is the life that I profess
To connect, it’s the best, living life being a chef

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