By day, we were cutting up beautiful sailboats strewn on properties, cleaning up debris and rebuilding demolished structures. At night, I worked in restaurants. The first trained chef I ever worked for was named Scott Bryan at Chateau Bordeaux where we cooked classic French cuisine. I also approached Woody’s Seafood Saloon, the local watering hole in Cruz Bay. They needed a prep cook on Sunday mornings to help a “well-seasoned” local West Indian gentleman in his 70s, Mr. Eric Christian. Mr. Eric was well-known on the island for his West Indian fare and cooked at Woody’s on Sundays. I took the job.
Mr. Eric told me, “On Sundays, I need you down here at 7 o’clock.” I told him on Saturday nights, I don’t even get home until 3 a.m. He said, “I need you down here at 7 o’clock.”
I underestimated “his” business. The line of locals would start forming around 9am, and by 10, when we would start serving, it reached around the corner. Mr. Eric always had a line out the door and we always sold out of everything.
I was Mr. Eric’s chopping and dishwashing guy. Mr. Eric didn’t like prep cooks much and had a test for rookies: He would put this old pot on the back burner of the stove, add only tomato paste and burn it to charcoal. Then he would hand it to me to clean. This was his test to see if I was committed to the job.