My father was a chef. We owned three restaurants in the Chicagoland area. Two were French (one 4 star, one 4 1/2) and a pub & eatery outside downtown. Anything at all. My father had us in the kitchens beginning at age 10. I loved the speed and stress involved and the fact that nothing was written down. He was the head chef for Playboy for years and years. We traveled all over when I was very small so that he could train all the staff in each Playboy Country Club in his menues. In order to have the kitchen in any of the restaurants to myself, I had to pass a test. I had to take two geese from market to table...which made me cry. I had never butchered before... and my dessert was decided by my customer - Dad. A tri-color souffle - chocolate, vanilla and strawberry - separate yet equal. I stood at the door of the kitchen with a butcher knife and wouldn't let anyone through. It seemed, to me that day, that everyone walked like an elephant. It was a success and I got to begin to plan my own menues. I was 16. The first time I made BBQ sauce - I forgot the smoke flavoring and it tasted like tomato paste. Nasty stuff.