Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost


I am a story of forks to be taken, of chances to be grabbed and of leaps of faith to be made. Sometimes I think about what my life could be if I stayed and went with the calm currents. It’s like Archie Andrews’ married life…and sometimes I wish I could take the backseat and become the reader, the third person to my life’s novela. But the striking difference between where I am and where Archie is right now is that he (well, the one who wrote him) has the liberty to go back and forth between a life with Betty or Veronica. The lucky bastard. I can’t have that, nor do I want it. Because if I can switch between lives as easy as I turn the lights on and off, then I wouldn’t really have something to live for…something to lose.
I had a moment last night that deserves to be immortalized in the hallowed space that is this relatively quiet blog. I’m scared to say that working side by side with chefs that I look up to has affirmed what I have been feeling all this time: that is was I was born to do. I’m going to handle this feeling with kid gloves then: this is where I am supposed to be, this is the path I’m supposed to take. I may not know where I’m going just yet, but I’m getting there. 
I bought a book the other day, by Anita Lo (she demolished Mario Batali in Iron Chef America) entitled “Cooking Without Borders“. There was a line in her introduction that got to me. She wrote, “I was first what I ate, and became what I cook”. That’s my life verse right there.


2 thoughts on “Becoming

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