They Tried To Throw Me Out Of My Own Restaurant Until The Chef Stepped In

saying that what I was and what I had made belonged in a glove compartment rather than on a wall.

I took it inside.

Walked through the kitchen, past the laughter and the cheap wine and Kemi’s improperly tempered chocolate, and hung it on the hook by the back door, next to Marco’s jacket and Nina’s umbrella and Luis’s baseball cap.

Not hidden. Not a secret.continue reading …