Chapter 14

Matthew arrived at Hearth a full hour before his scheduled start time on a cold January Monday. The restaurant was in the East Village. There were no elaborate awnings or flashy displays—just an elegant presence occupying a corner with large windows that revealed glimpses of a warm, amber-lit interior. The contrast between the gray winter morning and the inviting space within was dramatic.

Matthew, conscious of the importance of this opportunity, stood across the street for a few minutes centering himself. A little more than a year and a half ago, he was sitting outside Ms. Winters’ wondering about his future.

“Papa, I got myself way over my head this time,” he muttered.

Steeling himself, Matthew straightened his shoulders and crossed the street to the staff entrance at the side of the building. The door was propped open, the morning’s produce delivery stacked neatly inside. Inside, he could hear the murmur of voices, the rhythmic sound of knives against cutting boards.

“You’re Matthew,” said a voice as he hesitated at the threshold. A young woman with close-cropped hair and arms sleeved with colorful tattoos emerged from a stockroom. “I’m Rey, Chef Reynolds’ sous chef. You’re early.”

“Yes, Chef,” Matthew replied automatically.

A slight smile crossed her face. “Save the ‘chef’ for Reynolds and maybe me on a bad day. I’m Rey to the externs. Come on in. I’ll get you sorted.”

Inside, Hearth’s kitchen was a study in thoughtful design. Unlike the expansive, stainless-steel dominated kitchens of many high-end restaurants, this space had a more intimate feel. The centerpiece was a wood-burning hearth—the restaurant’s namesake—where flames licked at hanging pots and cast-iron pans nestled in the embers. Surrounding this focal point were conventional cooking stations, each organized with equipment that spoke of quality rather than ostentation.

“Chef believes a kitchen should reflect the mission of the restaurant,” Rey explained, noticing Matthew’s careful observation. “Authentic, practical, without unnecessary flourishes.”

A team of eight cooks moved purposefully through the space, each focused on morning prep. Unlike the frenetic pace and shouted orders during breakfast rush at Denny’s, the atmosphere here was one of concentrated intensity—voices kept low, movements efficient, an almost choreographed quality to the way staff navigated around each other.

“How much did Chef tell you about how we operate?” Rey asked, leading him toward a small office off the main kitchen.

“Not much specific,” Matthew admitted. “Just that the experience would be challenging but educational.”

Rey nodded. “That’s accurate, if understated.” She gestured for him to sit while she pulled out a folder containing forms and a slim, bound manual with the Hearth logo embossed on its cover.

“Hearth isn’t like other restaurants, and not just because of the food,” she began, her tone becoming more formal. “Chef Reynolds has very specific ideas about kitchen culture. No yelling. No hazing. No tolerance for disrespect of any kind—whether to ingredients, equipment or people.”

Matthew nodded, thinking of Chef Marchand’s lesson about the two types of kitchens.

“That said,” Rey continued, “our standards are high. We expect complete focus, meticulous execution and constant improvement. Chef believes that excellence doesn’t require fear or intimidation, but it demands unwavering commitment.” She slid the manual across the desk. “Everything you need to know is in here—from basic procedures to philosophical approach. Read it tonight.”

As Rey walked him through paperwork and initial orientation, Matthew caught glimpses of Chef Reynolds through the office doorway, moving from station to station, tasting, adjusting, occasionally showing a technique. The chef’s manner was focused and calm, his communication with staff direct, but never harsh.

“For the first week, you’ll be shadowing different stations,” Rey explained. “Observing, helping with basic tasks, learning our systems. After that, if you show aptitude, you’ll be assigned more specific responsibilities.” She fixed him with an evaluating look. “Chef mentioned you made an impression at his guest lecture. That’s unusual for him. Don’t waste the opportunity.”

When the formalities were complete, Rey led him to a small locker room where he changed into the uniform provided by the restaurant—crisp white chef’s coat with the Hearth logo, dark gray pants, and a simple gray apron. The fit was better than he expected, the quality of the material noticeably superior to his school uniforms.

“We provide uniforms and launder them,” Rey explained. “Chef believes if we want you to represent Hearth at the highest level, we should equip you appropriately.”

Back in the kitchen, the morning prep was reaching its peak. Rey introduced Matthew to each station chef, moving through the garde manger, fish, meat, pastry and sauce sections. Each cook acknowledged him with a nod or brief greeting before returning to their tasks.

“Today you’ll start with Jacob at garde manger,” Rey instructed, gesturing toward a tall, lean cook with wire-rimmed glasses who was breaking down baby lettuces. “Watch, learn, help when asked, stay out of the way otherwise.”

Jacob glanced up as Matthew approached. “First day?” he asked, continuing his precise work without pausing.

“Yes, chef.”

“Ever worked garde manger before?”

“No.” Matthew had studied cold prep at ICE, but his practical experience had been primarily in hot line cooking.

Jacob nodded. “Good. Means you don’t have bad habits to unlearn. Watch first.”

For the next hour, Matthew observed in silence as Jacob showed the exacting standards of Hearth’s cold preparations. Each lettuce leaf was inspected before being added to salad mixes. Herbs were sorted by size for different applications. Vinaigrettes tasted and adjusted with scientific precision, measured in drops rather than spoonfuls.

“We don’t do complicated for the sake of complexity,” Jacob explained as he assembled a simple beet salad that had required three different cooking methods for the beets alone. “We do what best expresses the ingredient’s potential. Sometimes that’s straightforward. Sometimes it requires more intervention.”