Paris, March '23

          ...just hours after finishing one of the most taxing academic terms of my life. My classmates and I were gathered ceremoniously around a grill in a clearing in the forest just outside our campus. The energy was electric – some were celebrating job offers, some were savoring their last few moments with the people they shared so much life with over the last six months before they left for their exchanges, and others were simply happy to be finished with exams and have another night of drinks and laughter. 

          At the center of the action was the grillmaster himself – a well known and energetic young man from Argentina who quickly established himself on campus as a man of many talents, and the grill was no exception.

          For six hours straight he worked tirelessly, moving at near light speed with the precision of a Swiss watch.

          For six hours straight he fed and stoked flames, turned chicken, sausages, and steaks, chopped vegetables and mushrooms, and served plate after plate after plate to more than 100 people.

          For six hours straight not one item was burned or undercooked, not one request was refused, and not one single complaint was muttered.

          I worked in restaurants for years before the Army, and I’ve dined in dozens, if not hundreds, at all levels of price and prestige, and this was easily the most impressive display of culinary prowess I’ve ever witnessed.

          At graduation, I told his parents that if he did anything else in life with half the intensity of that day, there’s no question he'll die a billionaire. 

          I can’t say for certain what his secret was, but I can say that I rarely saw him without a gourd full of hot water and mate in his hand.