The Raw Journey: A Manifesto
Purpose is profound. Sometimes confusing. We’re driven to champion a cause yet doubt whether we’re the right ones to carry the torch.
I’m a chef from New York. I grew up exposed to hard realities of the human condition. I spent decades behind stoves, working side by side with people who were hurting — while I was hurting too. But through pain, we served pleasure and joy. That irony is the craft. It’s the life.
When I published The Raw Journey, I didn’t know what to expect. Maybe a few “that’s cool” or “good job.” Instead, I was hit with some of the most inspiring words I’ve ever heard.
A chef from the first graduating class of the Culinary Institute of America told me he’s glad I survived my alcoholism so I could share my story and help others. Hit a little harder knowing he lost his son to addiction.
A mentor and second father said he will take my journey with him and can’t wait to see what the future has in store for me.
A director of operations and entrepreneur declined a free copy of my book because she preferred to pay for it in an effort to support my cause.
A school principal told me he couldn’t stop reading the book and wished the students I fed could digest my words like the delicious meals I serve. He invited me to do a reading for the entire school and sign books for students.
A senior editor of a respected culinary trade magazine said she received my books, was excited to read them and couldn’t wait to work on a piece for her periodical.
A colleague managing multi-million-dollar restaurants texted: “I read your book. I watched your interview. Keep going, we need this.”
A VP of Operations posted publicly: “Don’t stop, Moe. Keep doing those podcasts. I’m glad you reconsidered my job offer”
A mother who lost her daughter — my friend and chef — in a drunk driving accident messaged me: “You’re a beautiful writer. Thank you for keeping her memory alive. She’d be proud of you.”
A manager with 40 years in the industry who believed in me as a sous chef said: “You should be damn proud. You’re going to help people, brother. I love you.”
That’s more than “good job.” That’s life-altering. Career-redefining. Purpose.
I’ve given my life to the kitchen. When my father died, I called my boss before I even left the hospital. When my grandfather passed, I finished my shift before kissing his forehead goodbye for the last time. My 83-year-old grandmother may forget it’s Tuesday, but she still says, “Hi Chef Moe Moe, you headed to work today?”
I’ve lived pain. Dedication. Failure. Now I get to share, inspire, create, and use honesty as a tool for healing. It’s not easy. But I’ve learned this: when you face your deepest pains, daily stresses lose their grip. Budgets, staff shortages, a busy rush — they don’t crush you when your core is in check.
That’s power. That’s purpose. That’s my mission.
That’s The Raw Journey.
