Issue three is a long, long, time coming. A year to be exact. It seems to be a pattern of mine – a pattern I’d like to break. Issue one had me learning how to build a website and a magazine at the same time while also living life. Issue two was interrupted by the pandemic, halting any of my plans. Issue three is no different.

This year was especially hard. The pandemic, like most people, got me thinking about my life and my job. There was one blind spot in my career that kept nagging me: fine dining. So, early last year I got a job at a restaurant I’d idolized for ten years and holy shit was it hard. Every time I was getting the hang of it, I’d move stations and start from scratch.

The original idea for this issue was to explore “the service,” everything that goes into a night of work at a restaurant. It just so happens that this new job was the perfect research for that very topic, but I didn’t see it that way. I was too busy getting my ass kicked every night. That and my days off were spent recouping or getting my life together – laundry, dishes, grocery shopping, car maintenance, whatever. For most of the year, I felt like I was barely keeping myself afloat.

Nothing surrounding the magazine was catching any steam, until the summer when the owner at my job opened up the chef’s counter again. Every night I was blown away by the things customers did and said. Some think they’re watching Chef’s table. Some think we’re doing things wrong. Others get really philosophical about it, quoting Keller and Kenji Lopez-Alt. I was within arms reach of them but they were pointing and staring at me like I was behind glass. That’s when I really understood that the shift I’m working is actually the customer’s entertainment. It’s something especially apparent in fine dining when the food becomes more experience than sustenance. I always knew that, but I didn’t really hit until I was the center of attention. I’d shift a log in the fire and lift my head, sweaty and red-faced, to see half the dining room watching me, miming my motions. I could hear what they were saying. “He’s moving the log to make the fire hot.” “Look at him use the fan.” They had no idea what kind of pain I was in or how tired I was, but they were having a good time watching.

For The Shift side of the magazine, I wanted to focus on elements of the work we do. I wanted to explain to customers what it is they’re actually seeing and what we go through to make the show possible. I don’t think we fully accomplished that, but we got things rolling.

The Show side of the issue is more about, one, defining what the show is from a cook’s perspective, and, two, giving a bit of a show. The vast majority of customers don’t want to peek behind the curtain, but they will if we make it fun.

For me, the centerpiece of this issue is chef Bo Bech’s exceptional essay “The Show” from his equally exceptional book, In My Blood. No one makes cookbooks like Bo Bech and most professional writers can’t write as well as him either. It’s a tremendous honor for him to be a part of this and for him to let me reprint his work here.

The other two linchpins were chefs Dean Strobel and David Uzzell. They were some of the first people to come aboard this issue and their writing helped shape its direction. Aside from thanking them for their patience, I have to thank them for working so hard on their respective pieces and for sticking with them. Without their work, I don’t think I would’ve kept going with this theme. David was especially helpful in providing photos on which some of the art was based.

Another reason this issue has taken longer is game development. That’s right, a game. My buddy David Rickards and I talked for years about making a game for the magazine. Well, this issue, it finally happened! Originally it was going to be a table-top RPG, like Dungeons and Dragons, but David took the project into his hands and developed it into a video game with his style and direction. David and his co-creator, Kevin, introduce KitchenWare a series of mini-games based on the variety of jobs in the foodservice industry. Have fun! Land that job!

Late in the process, when things seemed like they weren’t going to come together, Kyle de Vre and Lou Sassle came in and really rounded out the issue with some bold photography and words. Working with them is a dream. They know what they want to say, all I do is give them a place to put it.

Without Mattieu Smyth’s art, I think, this whole issue would still be a loose collection of ideas. His art for all three covers looks fantastic, but it really gives the whole issue a sense of cohesion.

Last but not least, thanks to all the artists who helped make everything look unique: GUTROT, Vantlya, Anirban, Ayeni, and Peon regulars Emma and Paulie. And thanks to Ian for helping sharpen my ideas while bullshitting over a few Undergergs.

I think I’ve learned more this issue than any other before it and I plan to make that more of a creative drive going forward. I became a much better cook and my frustrations and limitations with design have definitely helped streamline my process for the magazine (at least I hope so.) This issue isn’t as big or as intricate as I wanted considering how much there is to explore. Bearing in mind the effort and time it takes to make an issue of Peon, I’m overwhelmed at how it turned out. Suffice it to say, a part two is inevitable. It’s still just me doing most of the work, though, so it’s still gonna take a while.

But first, fried chicken.

THANKS FOR READING,

ZAKK

Special thanks to my parents, my brother and sister, Ellie, the K-man, Ajjack, and Marko. This one’s for Chico who loved food.