Looking For My Mother At The Bottom Of A Pot is a beautiful personal essay on being away from family during major events. It’s worth every second it will take to read.
Looking For My Mother At The Bottom Of A Pot is a beautiful personal essay on being away from family during major events. It’s worth every second it will take to read.
Good cooks are quitting the kitchen, and that’s bad news for your favourite restaurant:
For those making $14 an hour, we’re not even talking about fresh-out-of-school, no-experience, paying-their-dues cooks, who often swing $125 for a 12-hour shift that works out to less than Ontario’s legal minimum wage of $11.25 per hour. No, we’re talking about people who’ve spent years honing their skills, demonstrating their loyalty and work ethic in an industry where “passion” is used as a marker of dedication, and the perceived lack of it as a tool for dismissing any cook who complains about conditions or compensation. One chef I spoke with referred to this as a “crime of passion.”
I have a family member in the food industry, and it staggers me whenever I learn how much he takes home in a year after working 60 hour weeks, 51 weeks a year.