Advice to new cooks is often less about craftsmanship and more about how not to take things personally: keep your knives sharp and your wits sharper, and don’t let the bastards get you down. This is because some kitchens are complete meat grinders for the spirit. When toxicity is celebrated and glorified, others must grit it out without a word. That kind of silent suffering pressure cooks the tears right out of you. And in a toxic kitchen, crying is as disgusting as not washing your hands.

We’ve worked in some pretty diabolical kitchens, rotten places filled with people who dismissed us as no-good, bleeding-heart softies.

Which sucked. Those people suck—a lot—but they also inspire us. To reconnect to our food joy off the line. To fight their hate through art. To find muses in grocery stores, gardens, truck stops, bodegas, potlucks, and pop-ups. To embrace our brigade battle scars. To keep sharing our soft, bleeding hearts. To write food stories. To serve them up Medium Loud ❤