My, how the time has flown! It seems like just last week, though it was actually Father's Day 2016, around 5:30 p.m., dinner time. I received a mildly panicked call from the President (of RCS) herself: "Could you perhaps pack up, get to a property in rural Kentucky, and stay for an undetermined number of weeks, or possibly months, as interim chef?" At the time, exactly what "interim" entailed wasn't entirely clear but soon became apparent. Like nearly every assignment that followed, the role required a working knowledge of multiple professions: chef, plumber, mediator, firefighter, electrician, therapist, diplomat, and dishwasher.  

When the call comes, the situation is already challenging. The team is tired. They're nervous. Walking into an unfamiliar kitchen is a little like being dropped into the middle of a family argument where emotions are simmering to a boiling point. Everyone has history, everyone is under pressure, and everyone wants to know: Who is this person? The prime directive has always been simple: learn before judging. Who needs encouragement? Who needs direction? Who knows the kitchen inside and out? Who is quietly holding the place together? Stressed teams don't need another ego. They need someone competent, dependable, and willing to listen.

Ten years on, dozens of properties, countless kitchens, thousands of lunch, dinner, and event services, delayed flights, battered luggage, and untold miles of highway have led to connections with hundreds of fascinating, talented, and wonderful people. A prep cook from Idaho who raised yaks for their wool and distilled homemade gin from Idaho juniper. The unforgettable pastry chef who nervously asked if I would help her dress the elk her husband had just hunted high in the Tetons. The sous chef who insisted we had time for one more run down the mountain during a Vermont blizzard and still made it back to execute breakfast service. The master sushi chef, who also happened to be a seaplane pilot, treated us to a spectacular flight along British Columbia's Sea-to-Sky corridor. And the wise morel forager and butcher from Appalachian Tennessee, whose wonderfully simple mushroom-gathering advice was, "Just look down."

From far-flung destinations to vibrant urban kitchens, the purpose of the work has remained remarkably consistent: to strengthen culture, improve communication, and build confidence within teams.

It seems that the key ingredient in achieving those sometimes-elusive goals is surprisingly simple. Rather than spending all your energy trying to fix operations, first take care of the people inside them. Implement systems that create meaningful and sustainable positive outcomes. Observe carefully. Listen thoughtfully. Lead with consistency. Earn, don’t expect trust.

The return on that investment often appears in quiet victories: solutions to seemingly insurmountable challenges, renewed confidence, calmer kitchens, and the unmistakable moment when people realize they are genuinely seen, supported, and cared for.

What an extraordinary privilege it has been to experience so much alongside so many remarkable people. Not least among them are my esteemed colleagues. There are simply none better with whom to share this journey.

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About the Author: Chef Mary Howley