In the opening weeks at Coco Pazzo Teatro, I lost 11 pounds. These were not pounds I had to spare, I'm a bony, whippet-thin, gristly, tendony strip of humanity, and after two weeks running up and down the steps at Teatro from prep kitchen to a la carte kitchen — like some hyperactive forest ranger, always trying to put out brush fires in order to avoid actual conflagrations — I looked as if I'd been breathing pure crack in some VC tiger cage for the last ten years.
