Fun story. I cooked for this dude, once. I did my kitchen apprenticeship at the family-style restaurant of one of New Zealand’s premiere chefs, and he knew Ramsay really well. He was in New Zealand for a few weeks, and Martin brought him by the restaurant to check it out. It was right on the beach, fucking gorgeous. I was the only one there (apprentice = bitch work = 4am starting shifts), and they asked me to whip up some breakfast for them. It was SUPER simple, fried fish, eggs cooked in bread, sausages. He was incredibly gracious and kind, asked me to join them (I couldn’t, too much work to do, so they sat at the kitchen window so they could talk to me), and was super interested in hearing about my english grandma, who had taught me how to cook. I won’t hear a single bad word against this man, for all of his kitchen hysterics, he treated me like an equal.
gordon ramsay fandom
If you’re not in the Gordon Ramsay fandom you’re wrong.
I swallow hard. I don’t think. I just bend my knees and jump. The air howls in my ears as the ground surges toward me, expanding and growing, or I surge toward the ground, my heart pounding so fast it hurts, every muscle in my body tensing as the falling sensation drags at my stomach. The hole surrounds me as I drop into darkness.
“There are infinite numbers between 0 and 1. There’s .1 and .12 and .112 and an infinite collection of others. Of course, there is a bigger infinite set of numbers between 0 and 2, or between 0 and a million. Some infinities are bigger than other infinities. A writer we used to like taught us that. There are days, many of them, when I resent the size of my unbounded set. I want more numbers than I’m likely to get, and God, I want more numbers for Augustus Waters than he got. But, Gus, my love, I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinity. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I’m grateful.”