“New York, New York” a blog so good they named it twice by Stuart Ralston

My 2-year US visa was almost expired. And honestly, I was looking forward to a change of scenery.

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Running every corner of Gordon Ramsay’s kitchen had ticked some massive boxes for me personally but also made me realize I had done all I had intended for his restaurant. New York is a tough city to get used to. It was time to move on from being star struck to star chaser.

I gave my notice and told my chef I would be leaving the states to go back to Europe where I had already organized trials at Mugaritz in Spain and Oud Sluis in Zeeland. I was excited about leaving to get into a 3 star in Europe and be engulfed into another new culture and way of life. But out of the blue, things changed once again.

Six weeks before my departure, I met someone who made me think about something other than my career path and Michelin stars. Although we had just met and she never asked me to, she was the reason to stay. I kept my original plane ticket and went back to Scotland to decide what to do.

Happy as I was that I had met someone amazing, I feared that I might be making the biggest mistake of my career. Was it wise turning down such opportunity at 25? On the other hand, I thought getting a top job would be easy after all I had just conquered NYC.

How naïve of me. As much as I love New York, my favourite city never runs out of ways to shit on you when you’re down. She came over to Scotland for a holiday and during that time I decided that we had to stay together and if it meant me going back to NYC to hustle to get back in a star kitchen then that’s what I would do.  Since getting a work visa for the US is hard enough the first time around, I knew it would be nigh on impossible to get it again – plus, in two more years, I’d be in the same boat again.

The only option we had was to get married. Maybe it’s our generation’s jaded attitude toward this aging institution, but neither of us thought much of it at the time. We didn’t view it as something romantic or emotional; just something that needed to get done in order to stay together. We never could have predicted the emotional rollercoaster it threw our families into, but they accepted it in the end. I still couldn’t legally work, however, as it took 6 months for my marriage visa to go through.

For money, I began working for two good friends of mine that had left Ramsay’s to open a new trendy, organics style restaurant in East Village and they paid me under the table. I must have staged/interviewed/trialed at every 2 or 3 Michelin Star Kitchen in New York City in that 6-month period.  From Daniel Boulud to Eleven Madison Park to Bouley to Corton to Picholine, I couldn’t find something that felt right. Maybe I was being too picky; I don’t know what I was looking for but for whatever reason I didn’t take any of the jobs I was offered. I remember Paul Liebrandt telling me he didn’t think Corton was the place for me as he thought I was hungry for something more. Great .

Despite my disappointments, I enjoyed the time I spent in those kitchens, got the chance to see all these celebrated restaurants at work, steal a few recipes and meet the most legendary of Chefs that, today, are the leading chefs in the world. Cooking for them seemed surprisingly easy compared to Gordon’s. I remember cooking at the 2 Michelin star Picholine, as part of my trial I had to cook a 5 course tasting menu.

The Chef De Cuisine had asked me to make him a potato terrine. He explained I was to take the guard off the meat slicer and free hand slicing potato wafer thin. Being perhaps overly confidant, I promptly sliced off the top off my thumb within 30 seconds of using the thing. I was devastingly embarrassed; and not wanting to sabotage my interview, I took the top of my thumb, replaced it on my hand, taped it on with sellotape and put on a latex glove. I also taped the glove on and continued. ‘Good as new!’, I thought. ‘If my chef career falls through maybe I can be a doctor.’

After half an hour I felt queasy, the Chef asked me if I was ok, and I of course told him I was great, he said “Ah I’m just asking because your glove is full of blood. You need to go to the hospital.” I had no medical insurance which, in the US, means that if I had gone to the hospital, I would have to foot the bill. Having heard horror stories about the American medical system and people going into debt from health problems, I opted to skip it and I got a taxi home and with a DIY kit asked my girlfriend to repair my hand with her vast knowledge of the medical field (she’s a bartender). After a near passing out (both me and her) and plenty of Hydrogen Peroxide, I survived, but half of my thumb was numb for 2 years. Six months, $7000, immigration lawyers and many many appointments later, I got my green card.

After months of searching, at 26 I became one of NYC’s youngest Executive Chefs heading up the Core Club, the most exclusive private lifestyle club in the city. Everything I had done now seemed like I had achieved something for myself, I was no longer chasing star chefs round the city. I was cooking the food I wanted to cook, and creating something I could call my own. Everything I have been through and every decision I made finally seemed worth it. Despite all I have accomplished, I still feel like my life is just beginning.

I am 29 years old and am currently the Chef De Cuisine at Sandy Lane Hotel in Barbados, still an expat. The best decision I made for myself was to move away from where I was from. The best piece of advice I could give to young chefs is this – go out and see the world. Take a risk. Of course it’s scary, and not easy, but this is life. I think back to the decision I could have made to stay in Scotland when I was 19 and when I think that despite everyone who said I was crazy or wasn’t up to the challenge, I went to New York anyway. I made it. It has made me, who I am, and who I will be.