Words can’t describe the torture of those first two weeks being stranded outside New Orleans.  Watching the horror of television coverage, I began planning my first visit back into the city. I managed to get a military pass which would help me to get through the checkpoints along the way.  Of all the things that needed to be done, the first thing I did was I drove all the way into the French Quarter to retrieve payroll records since payday was August 29th, the day of the storm.  I had an entire staff scattered all over the country that needed money.  I set up a temporary office in a hotel room and my office manager walked me through payroll.  The only issue was that by now two weeks had already passed and another payroll was due.

Two payrolls, back to back, pretty much wiped out my cash flow.  I had to do something quick or everything we had worked so hard for would be lost.  I’m sure all the other residents were feeling the same as I was and we all knew that we had to get back in and do what we do.  My role: to cook.  But how was I going to cook in a completely demolished restaurant?  About that time a former sous chef who I had sent to France to work and study while I was renovating just happened to call me.  I said, “where are you?”  He replied, “Driving into New Orleans. We’re going to cook burgers, right”?  What a great idea!!!  The Stanley concept was about to come alive in a way that was never planned.  This was our only choice and at the time it seemed like a good one.

We heard rumors of an open Winn Dixie super market on the West Bank of New Orleans and set out to check our resources.  We decided to open the next day.  Why not, what were we waiting for?  The city needed hot food and we were going to prepare it.  September 18, 2005, Stanley restaurant opened its doors for business.  We had hot cheeseburgers right off the grill with potato chips and a pickle for five dollars.  We also had a full bar and air conditioning, all powered by a diesel generator.  We did 80 people our first day. In a city plagued by despair, rumors traveled fast that a restaurant called Stanley had opened on Decatur Street.  I thank God for the immense media coverage we got during those times, else our employees would have never seen their chef cooking burgers on television; it was a type of “Bat Signal.”  One by one I met them at check points, getting them through to come help us and the people working to secure and rebuild New Orleans. We started serving upwards of 500 people a day which made keeping enough supplies on hand nearly impossible. Fortunately our message sent out positive energy and other restaurants started opening.

What crazy times those were, not knowing what would happen or what our future had in store.  It was as terrifying  as it gets in every possible way.  A Japanese television channel filmed a documentary of us opening Stanley.  This triggered a conversation between Iron Chef French Hiroyuki Sakai and I where he showed concern for what had happened and about the future of our dinner. I assured him we be ready in seven months, just like we had planned.

What an agonizing journey to watch; day after day, month after month with very little progress being made. It took two months just to get the electricity back on.  Stanley kept us alive financially while trying to regroup and get the Stella project moving again.  Four months passed and our deadline fast approaching, my spirit was now being tested again.  Would we make it?  I look back and think that was silly question to ask because we really didn’t have a choice.   Everyone pitched in because they all knew it was integral to everyone’s’ spirit that this dinner happen.

At three weeks out, things looked grim but not impossible.

Two weeks left and it was going to be close.

With one week left there seemed to be hope… we were only missing one thing: the carpet. I thought that without any carpet there would be no dinner. There’s no way we came all this way, through storms, checkpoints, not showering for days and manning a grill for over 12 hours a day to be foiled by some stupid carpet. Then one of the most magical things happened, the carpet arrived!

One day before arrival we were buttoning up the loose ends.

March 13, 2006, Chef Sakai arrived in New Orleans.  With the hint of freshly painted walls and Tanya still hanging art, we seated Chef Sakai and his guests for dinner.  It was an honor to stand there knowing what we had been through and what we had accomplished. It was the most difficult week of my life, I tell you in earnest, there’s never been a tougher one. We jump started a new kitchen with Iron Chef Sakai and a sold out dining room, three nights in a row.  Nine courses in all and with a skeleton staff also running Stanley we worked hours each day and night preparing each meal.  With the joy of success Sakai returned to Japan and our mission carried on to the next chapter.

Stella lived once again but only four nights per week, serving only 25 people to start.  I had 14 employees trying to run 2 restaurants and financially we were starting to suffer.  We went to five nights then to seven in a desperate attempt to stay alive.  We went to 40 people then 60 and soon we were getting good momentum but the Stanley project had served its purpose.  Through great sadness,  October 2006 was when we closed Stanley on Decatur so we could put all of our energy back into our flagship, Stella.

Back on track and into motion we returned to our great new mission of helping to build the “new” New Orleans we all desired.  We could build it stronger and even better than it was before.  We had the responsibility to get it right this time.  I started traveling again in pursuit of more knowledge and new fuel for my tanks that had run so drastically low.  I first gassed up in the kitchen of Iron Chef Morimoto where I spent my first post Katrina stage, soon after with Chef Eric Ziebold at City Zen in Washington DC. These experiences reignited my culinary flame that had begun to dwindle.  I became obsessed beyond all imagination of taking the great blessing of survival and turning it into a powerful restaurant energy to be shared with everyone each and every night.  After what we had been through and at this point we were clearly cooking without boundaries; I felt like I was  a 10 foot tall, bullet proof juggernaut

Looking back, we were incredibly fortunate compared to others, still to this day we count our blessings.  Our city still sits in a numbed state of shock and recovery has become a way of life that we all live each and every day.  The city’s changed in many ways but one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt, New Orleans lives and and we all stand proud of how we survived and all came together to save it.