I too felt a powerful subconscious pull in the direction of manual labor when I left journalism and photography and took up work in a restaurant kitchen.

My conscious rationale was to learn something practical (cooking) which I could do anywhere in the world, on short notice, and at least get myself fed. I figured I could walk up to the back door of any commercial kitchen and offer to peel potatoes, wash rice, or grind corn, and eventually earn a meal.

I asked around for the names of the best chefs in Rochester. That was the mid 1980′s, and I heard repeatedly about Greg Broman at the Strathallen Hotel. I set my sights on working for him, and decided to first learn to make something basic, Hollandaise Sauce.

I happened to need a housemate, so told the universe that I wanted a “culinary acrobat” who could teach me how to make Hollandaise. I put an ad in City Newspaper that said “Housemate Wanted. Must be committed to something.”

The second call I get is from what sounds like a truck driver from Buffalo, so just from his voice I’m thinking “this probably isn’t a match.” But I ask anyway where the guy works. He replies “I’m a chef at the Rochester Club.” Score!

Rick Leone moves in a week later. We become great friends, and he teaches me to make Hollandaise. I buy restaurant menu covers at the Goodwill and cook ala carte for friends, offering them a variety of choices that all have Hollandaise Sauce. Once I’ve got that down, then off to the Strathallen to pitch Greg Broman.

“I don’t really know how to cook, but I can make Hollandaise. I won’t steal from you, I won’t lie, I won’t call in sick if I’m not.” Greg hires me on the spot to apprentice under the Franz, the Garde Manger. I learn the cold side of the kitchen: lots of prep, salads, bread baking, terrines and pates, gravlax, and so on.

And the most rewarding part of the job reveals itself one day when we’re glove boning 300 Cornish hens for a banquet.

“So what the f*#@ is a smart guy like you doing working in a place like this?” the chef blurts out.

Turns out the chef was a psychology major at UC Berkeley where he was influenced by the legendary Timothy Leary. Chef Broman also proved to be skillful at getting into our heads, and I learned a lot from him, beyond slicing mushrooms.

I surprise myself by saying I’m doing kitchen work to “get to know my father,” who had died when I was 12.

He was a cook in the Navy, and later had his own business sewing boat tops and cushions for ocean racing yachts. As a kid I worked alongside my dad in the boat business, summers and practically every day after school.

I greatly value that time working with my hands, both what I learned from being with my father, and from the physical work itself.

I learned a lot about quality, one word that really describes Roger Levy and the work he does at Freewheelers.

The man just oozes quality, care, and gentleness. Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance springs to mind, a book that weaves together philosophy and memoir, and reminds me of Roger’s willingness to share some of his great story, and to listen to yours. Excellent bikes and tuneups are a great bonus!