When I was 13, I had my first job with my dad carrying shingles up to the roof. And then I got a job washing dishes at a restaurant. And then I got a job in a grocery store deli. And then I got a job in a factory sweeping Cheerio dust off the ground.
My favourite area of Milano is by the canons - I go to an authentic Italian restaurant around there on a Sunday for delicious food.
From the first day we opened Wynkoop, my brewpub in Denver, I knew I'd be ten times better running a restaurant than I was a geologist.
No one knows restaurants like a New Yorker - they're incredibly discerning and restaurant savvy.
You go to a Japanese restaurant and have a wonderful dish, and the thing to do is take a picture with your phone, put it on Facebook, and see how many likes you get. If you don't share your experiences, they don't become part of the data processing system, and they have no meaning.
If I ever own a restaurant, I will never allow the waiters to ask if the diners like their dishes. Particularly when they're talking.
I was 18 when I first started working at a restaurant. I was a dishwasher. I only got the job because I wanted to go to Ibiza for vacation, and washing dishes was the only job I could find.
A great restaurant doesn't distinguish itself by how few mistakes it makes but by how well they handle those mistakes.
I have a chicken-wing addiction... I sometimes can't get out of a restaurant without at least trying their chicken wings. So that's my great downfall.
I was eating in a Chinese restaurant downtown. There was a dish called Mother and Child Reunion. It's chicken and eggs. And I said, I gotta use that one.
So I went to the Chinese restaurant and this duck came up to me with a red.
I was hired as a sous-chef at a restaurant on the Upper East Side. The chef liked to drink - some mornings we would find him sleeping. Two weeks after its opening, I became the chef. I was 20 years old, and way over my head. I had to hire the cooks and do the menus.
Hardly any of my most memorable meals have been eaten in a restaurant, and definitely none in one of those fancy marble-floored, polished-silver establishments.
I was born in 1937, in Yakima, Washington, the oldest child of Robert Emerson Lucas and Jane Templeton Lucas. My sister Jenepher was born in 1939 and my brother Peter in 1940. My parents had moved to Yakima from Seattle to open a small restaurant, The Lucas Ice Creamery.
I eventually settled in Washington, where my partners and I have been fortunate to build a restaurant business that now employs thousands of Americans across the country.
However, I was a restaurant critic at Chicago magazine before I worked at Esquire, and I've been a really enthusiastic home cook for a long time. It's just something I'm passionate about.
The average housewife goes to the restaurant to relax and enjoy the food. But when Eva walks in, she becomes the center of attention.
But as far as Twitter, I'll be in a restaurant and I'll get home and somebody tweeted and they talked about what I ordered and what I was wearing. In some cases, that could be dangerous, because you don't want everybody to know where you are every second of every day.
I try everything in moderation, but listen, if I'm at some great Italian restaurant and they bring out the wonderful bread and butter, I'm the first one to dive in the basket.
Maybe come to think about it, that is the sign of an extrovert, in any event I have always from the earliest of ages found it difficult to wander into a restaurant on my own.