Coming to America

When I turned twenty-eight, I decided it was time to see another part of the world besides central Europe, where I’d spent all but eighteen months of my life. I wanted to return to America, to the epicenter of the restaurant world, New York City. I answered an ad in a trade paper from a restaurant in Manhattan that was looking for a sous chef. I was intrigued and sent my résumé, which at that time was done by fax. The restaurant happened to be La Caravelle on West Fifty-Fifth Street, one of the city’s French haute cuisine classics and considered one of the best overall restaurants in the city. In its heyday, guests like Jackie Kennedy and Salvador Dalí frequently dined there.