THE FLAVOR BEHIND THE FOOD

A morning aboard The Skipper out of Oak Bluffs, filming Island Voices. I never picked up a rod, and still came home with the best catch of the day.

After the last service, a chef alone in a quiet kitchen tastes the soup he made for people he will never meet: a story for the quiet givers.

I once scrubbed a rich man's patio, brick by brick, while he sipped iced tea and watched. I didn't think the work was beneath me. I thought the way he treated me was beneath him.

I was sixteen when the rolling pin landed on my arm. On fear in professional kitchens, the television myth of the tyrant genius, and the kinder brigades I see today.