Steve's humble beginnings as a Firehouse cook

25 years old. Fresh out of college. What does any solid "C" student with degrees in Economics and Philosophy do? Become a Fire Fighter (wish I had known before I got to know Sallie Mae so well).

So there I am, green as can be. Excitement gushing from my pores. 24 hour shifts. After 5:00, the firehouse transforms into a new place. A place I'll never be able to fully explain. A "house" full of guys whom I was terrified of at first. Breaking each others balls relentlessly face to face, though THEY knew that as soon as the bells hit, they will lay down their lives for a "brother".

After 5:00, everyone kind of goes their separate ways. Work out, TV, what ever. I watched. One guy heads to the kitchen. Then a few more. The same guy, day after day. The same helpers, day after day, contributing any way they could. Jokes, stories, on and on. This guy, "Mikie" at that time, was revered. The firehouse cook. To me, that was the place to be after 5:00; the kitchen. And when we all sat down to eat, Mike got comments like "Nice Try". Relentless.

Mikie got promoted. A new Captain came to our "shift". Captain Billy. A great cook. No, better than great. But it was hard to help in the kitchen now, because we were always laughing . . . hystarically!

Maybe it was a trap, a Tom Sawyer. Maybe not. But when the great Captain Billy said 20 years in the kitchen was enough, I jumped in so fast I knocked every else out of the way. Well, really, there was no one else, and when the next shift came, there I was, in the kitchen with 12 hungry fire fighters counting on me to perform. Luckily, another "slug" (new guy) steped up. Greg. Greg saved me.

Meal #1: "Not bad" they cast the bait
Meal #2: "How'd you do this?" Set the hook
Meal #3: " Write this down. I'm going to make this at home" Reeling me in!

We became the new 4th platoon cooks. Yup, stuck in the kitchen for the next 20 years, and wouldn't have it any other way!