When I came here to Miami, I knew I wanted a kitchen of my own.  For a chef, there is nothing like creating your own menu, changing it, adjusting the flavors.  It's part and parcel of being a great chef.  I love this side of my career.  I love being able to go out along the piers and pick out the best fish, down to the butcher to pick out my steak for the night.  To the farmers market for my veggies. These are the things that make me happy.  I thought I would get all that at Sabor, which is a great place.  It sucks thought because I feel like all my cuban flare falls to the wayside because the owner is already the main chef.  He wanted a stand in and I can't do that.  I mean..it's just not what I am looking for.  He want's someone to be here and cook when he can't, already has a menu set up and all.  He needs a cook, not another chef. 

 
++Private++

Zachary Sinclair comes to me telling me all I want to hear.  Only I don't want to own anything.  I don't want that responsibility. But he is saying it's a three part ownership and I'd have control of the kitchen and he'd hire a general manager to handle everything else.  So what do I say? What do I do?  Hell, I don't know.  Mr. Sinclair sent down some floorplans for his new kitchen at his new place that is all top secret and crap.  Floorplans.  He want's me to tell him how to work it all out.  "Here Kieran, have all your dreams but you just have to be responsible and own shit."  Why do I feel like I am in a deal with the devil?  So I agree...reluctantly...and the dude asks me to go on down to the club and try and steal Jayson's catering job.  I mean, he didn't say it like that but that was exactly what he meant.  I am not this guys pawn and I am not going to cut someone out of a deal they already made...I mean, what the hell.  Jayson's a cool guy, why am I going to go and take a job I already know he's excited about.  Something's up, Mr. Sinclair hates him or something. I know it pissed him off when I told him no, but hell...I am his partner now.  Signed, sealed, delivered.  Not his lacky boy.  I do what I want man...I do what I want...and I don't want or need to steal another chef's work.

 

I haven't met many people around here, just stalked a few journals and IM's.  It's the digital age nowadays so that's how we meet people.  I even managed to convince Bella to come out surfing with me.  The woman has some iron ones, let me tell you.  Oh, until she thinks of sharks.  Hysterical.  You should have seen her face when I started yelling for her to hurry before the sharks got her.  Classic Work right there.  She's not too bad, a little uptight, like she forgot how to have fun, but that's it. She likes my sandwiches...she likes it ALOT!  Enough that now I am delivery boy for the week.  Something about that place wants to make me a slave man.  A SLAVE.  I AM SPARTICUS...oh yeah and she said it too...

 ++End Private++

I think I went to far about the whole shark thing.  I ticked her off, but it was a good ticked off as far as I am concerned.  All stalking up the beach with the sand all over her...body.  I tried not to laugh, but she caught me quite a few times.  I gave myself indigestion holding it in man....Just let it out or ya know, you get this pinched look in your face that is just...not natural. 

 

I had to get up early to bet her to her place and deliver el pita and egg.  Maybe tomorrow I will add in some extra curry and some chicken.  She has to be getting bored of pita and egg...I would be.