Signatures Cookbook

An English Chef in America

I remember the day very well. The date was May 10, 1999, and I had just arrived in Montreal after flying across the Atlantic Ocean in a British Airways 747 jumbo jet. Someone from the Lake Placid Lodge in upstate New York, where I had a job lined up as a line cook, picked me up at he airport, and we drove toward the Canadian border. It was 1 o’clock in the morning when we arrived, and I could barely contain my excitement as I passed through immigration, showed the official my visa and told him that I had come from England to work in the United States. As we drove across the border, I thought, “This is it. I finally made it.” I was 24 years old.

I haven’t always dreamed of being a chef, but I had longed to travel for nearly as long as I could remember. As a kid growing up in England, I had always wanted to be a pilot. I was fascinated by moving things like planes and trains, and whenever my family would drive into London, we would pass by the runways of Heathrow Airport. I watched in fascination as airliners took off for destinations all over the world. I was especially intrigued by the idea of going to America, even though, at the time, all I knew about America was related to New York City. I used to have pictures of it, with its imposing skyline and throngs of people. I had no idea how big the United States really was, but I knew I wanted to go there someday.