In the 1980's if you were a male chef you had to have a mustache, it was an unwritten rule of the profession. The mustache is as big as my toque. Don't look at the food, look at my incredible mustache.
Three partners in crime, 1983.
Check out the dark circles under my eyes, that's what Mother Day brunch does to a chef.
Hey, second guy from the right, didn't you get the mustache memo??
See the uneasiness in my eyes? I'm talking to long time food critique, Art Siemering. Notice how Mr. Siemering turns away from the camera, food critics never want to reveal their identity. I'm trying to memorize every detail of his face so I can have a police sketch artist draw a picture of him and send it to all my chef friends.
What an honor, not exactly the cover of the Rolling Stones. "Chef, how many ways can you cook a pig?"
Oh yes, sweating it out on a 800° flat top saute station with a wall of salamanders located at head level. I believe this causes brain damage, which explains a lot.