The Power of a Mentor
Learning is a special and necessary part of our development. I was fortunate to have people placed in my life to help guide me along the way.
For those of us lucky enough to grow up with loving, supportive parents, mentorship begins early. I had two parents who instilled core values from as far back as I can remember, values that helped me navigate life’s winding road.
Hard work, respect, honesty, pride, loyalty, and love for family were lessons rooted deep in my childhood. I watched my parents work hard to provide for us, and even through moments of struggle, those principles helped us persevere.
They set the example — or set the table, if you want to put it in culinary terms:
● “Treat the janitor like you treat the CEO.”
● “You catch more bees with honey than vinegar.”
● “You don’t give so that you can receive.”
● “Keep your mouth shut when older folks are speaking.”
● “Make sure you always hold the door for a lady.”
● “Always say please and thank you.”
● “Spend time with your family — don’t ever forget where you came from.”
All small lessons, but powerful character traits shown to me by the men and women of my family.
Those lessons molded my character as a young man eager to step into the hectic, stressful world of cooking.
In my early days, I learned from cooks, chefs, and culinary instructors who gave me the foundation of the food service industry — the meat and potatoes, so to speak. They taught me terms, techniques, and how to respect the work.
As I advanced, I was lucky enough to find true mentors — people who took the time to share their experiences to help me grow. Deep down, I believe those early values I carried made me receptive to their wisdom.
One chef, during my second run as sous chef in the Atlanta hospital, taught me to trust my team and respect par levels. He showed me how to show up, and how to be accountable.
My fat-fingered brother from the convent rekindled my love of cooking and taught me the importance of knowing my numbers — that food isn’t just food, it’s money. He taught me to keep my cool in disaster, to give my best no matter what, because your food is a reflection of you.
My dear, talented pastry wizard from the boarding school taught me to treat my team like family, to laugh, to love myself, and to put out the best food I could because it was my duty.
My hearing-impaired “dad” who came into my life after my father passed taught me how to manage the business, how to communicate with professionalism, and the value of standing up for my crew. He taught me that standing up for what’s right isn’t pushing back — it’s leadership.
I’ve kept these relationships close to my heart. I still reach out to these mentors for advice, guidance, and sometimes just to vent. I even sent two of them this book before I self-published it, and their pride and feedback were my green light. It even sparked their desire to tell their own stories, and I hope they do.
To this day, I’m still in a position to learn from people who take a moment to teach me something: clients, other chefs, managers, facility workers, cooks, dishwashers, delivery drivers, even students. I’ve learned to be more trusting, to delegate, to communicate, to market my food to the community, and to serve with pride.
This reflection is a moment of gratitude — a thank you to my parents, sisters, relatives, friends, bosses, clients, and every person who took a second to share knowledge with me.
The little lessons we learn along the way build toward larger successes. I couldn’t have achieved what I have without others paying it forward. They taught me to do the same — and as Father Time slowly puts his arm around my shoulders, I’ve made it a point to pass along lessons, values, and stories to others in the same spirit.
I hope this book is an extension of my presence in the kitchen and, in some small way, helps someone gain a clearer sense of how to navigate this wild world of hospitality. I will always be proud to learn and teach — but even prouder to share.
Thank you.
