Food, family and love:

The Early Years

Family meals

My desire to cook took hold of me early on. We were neither poor nor wealthy. Dad’s diabetes meant no rich, fatty foods.  Mom cooked light, straightforward meals in accordance with our budget and dad’s specific diet.

We didn’t have beef filet or extravagant meals. We had simple proteins and vegetables from the garden. This may not seem exciting for a boy but the future chef in me learned the valuable interaction of family and food.

The joy was in eating together, forming bonds in our long-term memories.

Above all, family meals are about spending time with loved ones. Shared meals are the heartbeat of family life.

Our young chef caught with his fingers in the cake

Mom-maw’s Home Cooking

Elsie, my paternal grandmother, Mom-maw to me, was an excellent old-school Southern Cook. She and Pop-paw were gardeners and with experience in preserving their home-grown food. The vegetables they grew were canned, frozen, salted or pickled for future use.

Mom-maw’s old-time recipes could easily fill a southern cookbook. Like mom, she cooked with love.

But the flavors…, the flavors were out of this world.

I claimed a stool in her kitchen just to sit and watch her work; smooth and natural, she made it seem so easy.  I remember the fresh smell when grinding the cool pepper mill.

Her productions were always steeped in correct technique, but also “off-the-cuff”. Each ingredient was natural, homegrown. She had no restrictions on salt, butter, or bacon-fat; Every dish tended with expert hands. The flavors would jump off each bite, taking root in my soul and memory.

Mom-maw taught me the importance of purity in food.  She fed more than our bellies; she fed our very being with love. She cooked with intent. Intent to nourish the family through the long workdays, to nurture growth. I firmly believe in the power of cooking with intent.

Future Chef Atkins with Chef JIm at Maxwell’s restaurant

Maxwell’s Restaurant

Uncle Lindsay opened his restaurant in Blacksburg, Virginia in 1978. A trip to Maxwell’s was a family treat. That’s me in the picture with Chef Jim.

I had my first fancy meal at 5 years old. It wasn’t my first taste of lobster that impressed me, I didn’t even like it. That same evening I was blown away by the heady and earthy feel of Roquefort blue cheese exploding on my taste buds and the creamy rich mouthfeel of clam chowder.

I understood the added depth of seasoning but the intense taste of Chef Jim’s meals were a level above anything I had ever experienced. I was learning the power and breadth of food preparation.

The flavors were sensational. Deep personal care was given to every plate.

In fifth grade, Uncle Lindsay flew me to Virginia for a weekend visit to nurture my desire to learn about food. Flying alone as a ten-year-old to my first job as a "chef" was thrilling.

That first night I watched Chef Jim prepare our meal before we dined on slow-roasted Prime Rib with horseradish, mushrooms and scratch-made jus. My favorite part was dessert: Chocolate mousse served in an old-school glass Coupe.

My favorite part was dessert. Chocolate mousse served in an old-school glass Coupe. A night on the town to me!

Uncle Lindsay had a previous engagement Saturday night. The bookkeeper who was supposed to be watching me didn’t notice as I snuck into the kitchen. I was fascinated by the 90-second quick-wash dishwasher. I’d stack the plates like playing a game of Tetris.

Helping the college-aged servers put the dishes up was a highlight for me. The waitresses were all smiles; the cooks cussed like sailors. Quick peeps into the bar revealed the raucous laughter of guests as they swayed to the live jazz. 

The action, the sheer thrill of so much excitement spread outward from the kitchen. The staff taught me to froth milk with the early twentieth century Italian espresso tower. I learned the flow of the service station and dessert cart. And why I shouldn’t run my fingers through the pre-portioned chocolate mousse!

Art, lights, and music all pull together to create an atmosphere. The need for integrity in food preparation; the teamwork of a fine-tuned staff. In short, fine dining is more than a meal.

Putting in The Work

My career began cleaning banana peppers and washing dishes when I was fifteen. For most youngsters it was just a job. To me it was a chance to learn. At the time, Hall’s on The River was a booming restaurant serving some 700 people a day. The cars were often parked a third of a mile down the old country riverside road.

I busted my chops for Chef Jean Bell who took me under her motherly wing. I worked my way up bussing tables and carrying trays loaded with 12 lidded and stacked plates. The fast pace was right up my alley.

Ma Bell, as she was affectionately known, ran a tight ship. She expected integrity in everything you did. It was her tutelage along with her praise to upper management which got me to the cook-line where I learned my early lessons in Southern Cooking.

Her “set in stone” recipes were excellent but left no room for my sense of creativity.

My time there led me to educate myself further at culinary school, where I learned to express my creativity with some of the Nation’s top Chefs.

Blending my love of active kitchens with creative cooking set me on a journey through Louisville’s best restaurants.

I worked with Le Relais, Azalea and Shariat’s to cut my teeth in a business which requires serious tutelage and chops in the heat of the rush.