my belt, I had worked my way up to cooking on the fish line as an apprentice poissonnier — a.k.a. fish cook.

Back at school, NYC was calling me back for more. It was all I could think about. I was on the fence when I was offered a paid position from a little-known (at the time) chef named Thomas Keller in California. The doors of his new Napa Valley restaurant, The French Laundry, had just opened. In the world of chefs, Thomas was known as a wizard in cooking; however, he had not yet reached the heights he would achieve later as the 2000s approached.

I started at the bottom in his kitchen and ground away, working my way up the ranks of Thomas' Bragard. Seasons changed, years melted away. I worked my way through all the stations in the kitchen, some stations twice. I became the first tournant — someone who could fill in any position. Ready for the next challenge, I was met with several. I both pioneered an in-house butcher position and became pastry assistant at The French Laundry. Thomas brought me in as Sous Chef, soon followed by Chef de Cuisine, to open his new Napa Valley bistro, Bouchon. This is about the time I picked up my first fly rod as well. Not quite down the rabbit hole yet, but a solid introduction to the sport in those years.

Feeling the urge for a new challenge and something different, I left to open a restaurant on my own in San Diego, followed by two years as Chef de Cuisine back in Napa Valley at a really cool Cajun spot called Catahoula. This is when Thomas threw a lasso my way and offered me the opportunity to go back to NYC to assist with the opening of his newest endeavor, Per Se. I made sure to first sneak in a trip to Italy to visit my sister in Florence and brush up on my pasta skills in the intense training ground of Italian grandma-run kitchens. Thomas pulled me stateside to open Bouchon Bakery in Yountville while awaiting the opening, followed by some good old meat cooking back at The French Laundry. When it was time for me to head back to Manhattan, Thomas decided I was going to spearhead the private dining room kitchen at Per Se. I eventually ran Expo in the main kitchen and helped open Bouchon Bakery in the Time Warner Building. Three years in Manhattan, and by this time I was getting burned out.

I wanted to get back out to California, and that opportunity knocked with a plan based on a private dining and catering facility for Thomas in the Napa Valley. While that never materialized, I instead went back to Bouchon as Chef de Cuisine. The best part is that this is where I met my future wife. Shortly after returning to California, I was swept up by a smooth-talking winery owner. Dave Del Dotto offered me a job right in the dining room of Bouchon. I remember saying to him, "Dude... you can't do that. At least invite me out to lunch or something!"

He did. What ended up catching me in the end was the line, "I want to offer you more than a job. I want to offer you a life." I never really had "a life" in the restaurant world — it isn't really conducive to that. So I spent the next 16 years building an extensive culinary program for their wineries, based around the family's wine offerings. This was a huge change of pace for me in the beginning. All of a sudden, I had banker's hours. I filled my time slinging flies at a local trout stream called Putah Creek. Now we enter the fly-fishing rabbit hole. I bought my first drift boat. Crashed and sank my first drift boat my first time out in it. This led me to begin meeting the legends of Northern California fly fishing: Ernie Dennison, Gabe Duran, Hogan Brown, and Mike Costello. I was once again in awe. This world of fly fishing quickly began to rival my love for cooking. The part that stood out to me most was that I was meeting genuine people — a major change from the who's who of the restaurant world. So Dave was right. Huge life changes came just a few years into my new chef position at the winery. Things that were never possible while I was in the restaurant world were unfolding for me. Significant things like getting married and having our first child, with two more eventually behind Asher. Before I knew it, I had a life.

This was the catalyst for me to start guiding as a profession. My wife laid out the option to keep fishing as much as I could if I found a way to make it part of my career. My first guide trip was without any training on Putah Creek. I met my clients and quickly realized they had little to no experience themselves. I went right into training mode like I would with a green cook on the line. By the end of that first day, each client had caught trout. A lightbulb went off. Guiding is just like being a chef. As a chef, you teach cooks how to cook your food through your actions and words. As a guide, you teach clients to fish and read water as if it were you doing the fishing. I was excited and ready to dive in with both feet.

Over the years at Del Dotto, I pushed the boundaries of the delicate work-life balance — keeping the quality of food high in the winery kitchen while filling my boat with clients and guiding as much as possible on my days off, and still being able to squeeze in time with the family.

Sometimes I could make it all work. Sometimes I was not so successful at it. The struggle was real. I was in pursuit of the unknown. How could I combine both of these intangible passions into one career? In the years spent trying to figure that puzzle out, I was invited to cook on my first travel trip. This was six years ago — 2018. Anthony Carusco asked me to fly to New Orleans and cook for a group of redfish anglers. I would get to fish as well. Super stoked, I boarded a plane to New Orleans. While I had a blast, I quickly realized it was a lot to fish and still provide the standard I aspire to with my guests. But this experience got my wheels turning. I agreed to go back the following year, so long as I could bring a sous chef along.

Fast forward a year, and I had the perfect assistant lined up: "Trish." Patrick Mackenzie is a great friend, a talented chef, and an amazing guide. We made a pact to fish hard and offer the best hospitality possible. We did manage to fish hard, and we did try hard to offer the best possible hospitality. Yet we both came out feeling as though we had come up short on the hospitality side. Getting to fish is always great, but it really cut into the time we needed to prepare meals we felt proud to serve. So I knew what needed to happen, and I agreed to come back the following year only to cook and host. In a strange turn of events, that return trip to NOLA was scheduled to begin right after COVID showed up and rocked the world around us, halting all travel and life as we knew it.

It seemed likely the trip would have to be canceled. I got a call saying that none of the clients wanted to fly out there. With life at a standstill for everyone in the service industry, we all needed the money from this trip. The guides and the lodge were still booked. I asked Anthony to give me 48 hours to rebook the trip with my clients. I'm pretty sure all it took was six texts and four phone calls — and voilà. I did it. We were going back again. Despite COVID, it was the best year there yet. The fishing was good. Our hospitality was top shelf. Patrick and I created a product we were proud of. My clients were stoked with my way of doing things. It was clear what needed to happen next. This was it — the way to combine both of my passions into one single career. Travel Creel Hospitality is born.