The Dial

I have this thing inside me—I can turn the dial to 10.

It’s not for everyone. It’s not healthy. It’s not balanced. But it’s real. When I’m in, I’m in. Obsessively focused. Tunnel vision. Eat-sleep-breathe the mission. I build businesses like some people breathe—because I have to, because not building feels like dying slowly.

I’ll stay up alone for nights on end, chasing the perfect broth, the perfect system, the perfect customer experience. Not to impress anyone. Not even to prove something anymore. I just want to make something that matters. Something that lasts. Something that makes people feel fed, in every sense of the word.

But here’s the catch: when you’re all in, you’re often all alone.

This kind of drive scares people. They don’t know what to do with it. And yeah, sometimes it scares me too. Because I’ll give everything I’ve got to something—time, energy, money, sanity—and still go back for more. Not out of ego. Out of love. Out of some deep compulsion to do this right.

But I can’t do it alone. That’s the truth that always catches up to me.

I need people. I need real ones. Not yes-men. Not pawns. Not employees just clocking in and out. I need partners. Teammates. People who see the whole damn chessboard and want to move, want to grow, want to create something unforgettable.

I don’t want to use people to win—I want to build people while we win. I want to invest in them, lift them up, help them grow their own kingdoms. I want to send people to the other side of the board and watch them turn into queens.

But this world runs on money. I’ve got two kids and a wife and a life that needs more than passion. Passion doesn’t pay the rent. Passion doesn’t fix the car. Passion doesn’t buy groceries. So yeah, the egg in the ramen costs $3. And if that’s a problem for someone, it’s just going to have to be a problem. Because I’m not trying to do this halfway. I’m trying to do it right.

Every dollar we charge is a chance to keep creating. Every choice we make is a brick in something that could last. Something that could feed not just stomachs, but souls.

I’m not here to be a martyr.

I’m here to build.

And I know it’s only going to get better when I find the right people to build it with—people who love the grind, who crave the magic, who can take a little pain in exchange for something beautiful on the other side.

That’s the mission. Not just good food. Not just a good brand.

But a good life, surrounded by people who make the whole thing worth it.

I’ve learned this: you can go fast alone, but you can’t go far. A Lone Ranger is a dead ranger.

So yeah, I can turn the dial to 10.

But I’m done doing that in a vacuum.

Let’s build something that outlives us.

Together.