“My mom was a great cook and fed the family. After my parents divorced, I lived with my dad. He tried to make dinner fun, but a few meals went straight into the trash. I joke that I taught myself how to cook for survival and soon found passion in it.  I went to culinary school in Austin, Texas and started working in restaurants nearby. After school, I moved back home to Dallas and worked for some inspiring chefs.

I became friends with Craig Noone while we were working at the same station at Steven Pyles restaurant in Dallas. Pyles was a James Beard Award winner and considered the Godfather of Southwestern Cuisine. Craig and I had attended the same school and he was gathering experience before opening Parlor Market, his own restaurant in Jackson, MS. I had lived in Texas my whole life and was ready for something new, so I went with Craig to Jackson.

My first day in Mississippi was the day that I moved there, but I loved it. Jackson was a small town compared to Dallas, and Craig helped get me plugged in.

Parlor Market was a fantastic restaurant; we were killing it and had just celebrated our first anniversary. Craig died in a car accident about a week later. It was devastating for so many people, and they looked to me to keep Craig’s vision alive. I bottled up my feelings, put on my apron, and got to work.  The short version is that I ran Parlor Market for another year, worked for six months at City Grocery in Oxford, then moved back to Jackson to open my first restaurant, Saltine. We made Bon Appetit’s list of the top 50 restaurants in the country in 2015, and then I was nominated for a James Beard Award for Best Chef South in 2016. Things seemed perfect on the outside, but I was struggling with my business relationships and marriage with a new baby.  My wife and I divorced, and I sold Saltine to my partners.

Throughout my career, I was dealing with mental health issues that I wasn’t aware of. I blamed others, but inside I knew something was wrong with me. Working crazy restaurant hours leaves little time to think about it or get help. After Craig died, I never made time to grieve and processed my emotions in unhealthy ways. I scrambled so hard to keep the restaurant together that I pushed away those who loved and supported me. I was asked by the financial backer of the restaurant to step down. 

I moved to Oxford for a fresh start and to run City Grocery. I worked 90 hours a week but never adopted the culture of a 20-year-old restaurant and its staff. I lasted six months and was once again asked to step down. I was under so much stress that being fired was a relief.

I returned to Jackson and opened Saltine. I wanted things my way, and it was hard to compromise with my partners or my management team. I felt high anxiety and stress when it seemed I was settling on anything: the food, the drinks, or the service. I got angry, frustrated, and vocal.

The cycle repeated, and I was asked to leave. I was invited to work as the chef of a boutique hotel in Tulum, Mexico during their busy season.  I learned about the local Yucatan cuisine and made friends in the kitchen speaking broken kitchen Spanish. It was paradise, but I struggled with depression, anxiety, and loneliness. 

I returned to Jackson to help open Fine and Dandy. I was the chef, not an owner, but everything had to be my way; the anxiety I felt made it impossible to compromise. Fortunately, the restaurant’s owner gave me an ultimatum: get help or part ways. Finding the right therapist was a turning point for me. It was the first time I heard about boundaries – I had been running all over them.

I also attended Al-Anon meetings to focus on my codependency and felt like a new person. We opened a second restaurant, Sophomore Spanish Club, while I was still running Fine and Dandy. We went from concept and design to recipe training and opening in less than 90 days. I also filed for bankruptcy—a lingering result of my divorce and buying out the non-compete I was forced to sign with Saltine. Buying it out was the only way I could work in Jackson for Fine and Dandy and be near my daughter.  Bankruptcy also meant losing my new sporty car and finding something much cheaper.

I looked at old, high mileage 4-Runners and 4×4 SUVs, but even those were out of my price range. I had a large Star Wars Lego collection that I started when I was a kid and sold it all to buy a used Toyota 4×4. When I was ten, my dad bought a brand-new 1990 Toyota long-bed, single-cab pick up truck. He put a camper shell on top and carpeted the inside of the bed. One Christmas, he loaded our family of five, with mom in the front and my two brothers and I in the back, and took us to see the Grand Canyon and Carlsbad Caverns on our way to visit our family for the holidays. Those are some of my best memories, and I wanted to do this with my daughter, Cordie.  

We took the truck for overnight camping trips when I could get away from the restaurants. I was burned out on cooking, and my truck opened a world beyond the four walls of the kitchen. Cooking over a campfire with fun techniques renewed my passion for cooking. For the first time in a long time I was cooking for me and not just for guests who weren’t always grateful. 

The pandemic hit both restaurants hard. They closed, and I took it as a sign of change. Mostly recovered from my financial setbacks, I outfitted my truck with a pull-out kitchen and rooftop tent and started traveling and cooking. I went back to Carlsbad Caverns and the Grand Canyon. I visited mountains and deserts, forests and national parks. It was a new life of cooking over fire and feasting under the stars. I found happiness in the commonality of food and nature with new friends.

I named my new project “Overland Chef” and started an Instagram account that was a mixture of my new truck and camp-style cooking. Soon I grew a following and started getting sponsorships. I entered a photo contest on Instagram and won a trip to Japan, but the fallout from COVID meant I couldn’t go. The company cut me a check for the cost of the trip, and I used a portion of the prize to turn Overland Chef into a business cooking for crowds at Overland Expos, performing outdoor cooking demonstrations, and camp catering. I created a line of hot sauces and granola inspired by the outdoors.

During the Instagram contest, I discovered a Japanese concept called ‘Shinrin yoku.’ It means forest bathing to shrug off the stress and pressures of life in the office, the city or the kitchen. It is recentering and finding peace.  Stepping out of the kitchen, I realized I wasn’t the only one struggling in restaurants. It is a hard life and many people go through what I went through every day. The underlying mission of Overland Chef is to raise awareness of the burnout and the toxicity of the restaurant industry, especially in this post-pandemic world. I want to help others in the industry get mentally healthy faster than I did.

I do a lot traveling and have taken a few chefs camping with me. We build a fire, cook, and talk about the topics and struggles of our industry: drug and alcohol abuse, mental health, depression, racism, sexual harassment and the toxic workplace. We have filmed a lot of those conversations and want to use them as a resource to share the state of our industry and provide help to those who are still struggling. Food is important to life and culture, but we have to care for the ones who prepare and serve it. 

I have been through the ups and downs of the restaurant industry and know the dark sides. I want to give others hope that they can be passionate about their work while staying connected with themselves, friends, and family. You have to find your peace and get away every now and then to recenter yourself.  For me, it was hitting the road and cooking over a fire, surrounded by the beauty of nature. ”
Jesse

(The pictures were take at the Experience the Oyster event in Gulf Shores. Jesse made the crackers on top of his oyster out of pine needles.) 

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Jesse’s story is a part of a series about the Weavers—people stitching our communities together, solving problems, and showing how to care for our neighbors. Send a message to Our Southern Souls to suggest a Weaver from your community to be featured on Souls.