Donald Young

I had been working with Roland Liccioni on and off for about seven years. When he put in his notice, I pulled Chef Roland aside and told him I wanted to step up—and he gave me the opportunity. It was a huge leap and a major step in advancing my career. Learning management and leadership under Roland wasn’t easy. The kitchen was divided, with some team members having worked for Roland or his ex-wife for over 30 years, making them incredibly difficult to manage. It wasn’t a fun experience at the time, but it made me a stronger leader today.

Their input influences both front- and back-of-house operations, dish techniques, plating, and new menu ideas. Our time together is limited—just a few days a month—so when we do work together, I want it to be meaningful.

It’s unfair that we serve guests all night while some restaurants don’t even feed their staff. Taking a moment to eat together is important. Beyond that, we support each other outside of work. Whether it’s getting together during our time off or showing up for each other’s personal endeavors, we genuinely want to see everyone succeed.

It exists because of the team — I could never do all the jobs myself.

After years of being on my feet, they’ve taken a serious toll.

We have unlimited access to knowledge at our fingertips, and I take full advantage of that.

There’s also something really special when I am able to provide knowledge and help guide and grow my team members who aspire to have their own restaurant one day.

organization, attention to detail, cooking knowledge, ability to work under pressure and understanding the importance of teamwork.

I also pay attention to how they handle multitasking under pressure, their openness to learning, and their ability to work well with others.

One of our best team members actually works in a completely different industry full-time, but she has the right attitude, willingness to learn, and has made incredible progress with us.

I watched how he made a few of the components, and when we sat down to eat, it blew my mind—it was incredible. That moment opened me up to Indian cuisine, which I had very little experience with at the time.

I went through a lot during my five years there. I first got my foot in the door through a chef I had previously worked with and deeply respected. The first available position, a few months after he took over the kitchen, was in pastry—far from my original goal of becoming a savory cook. However, this turned out to be a pivotal moment in my career, allowing me to round out my skill set. I stayed on that station for nearly a year before working my way up to Chef de Cuisine. While I learned countless techniques, the most impactful lesson was about flavors and balance. We had a couple who dined with us two to three times a week, and they always received a special three-course menu. Over time, I started creating dishes for them, which eventually turned into me designing their entire menu on most nights. This gave me invaluable time to experiment and refine my craft, with my mentor guiding me on how to elevate each dish. That experience was a major stepping stone, leading me to Temporis, where I helped earn the restaurant its first Michelin star.

I’ve had the privilege of learning from one of the top chefs in the country — honing my butchery, sauce work, flavor combinations, and many other techniques. Of course, we always strive for perfection, but in a perfect world, that shouldn’t come at the expense of others or require excessive hours from everyone to achieve.

I also keep a close eye on local and global hospitality industry news such as Eater, Food & Wine and more.

Lately, many of my dishes have been influenced by my life experiences and current food obsessions. One of my favorites on the menu right now is a play on Chef Boyardee. It’s something I ate all the time as a kid, and it resonates with a lot of people.

Being a mentor, teaching others, and giving them a reason to want to be there is key. It’s about making sure everyone on the team is treated fairly and respected at all levels.

As a line cook, you’re rarely taught the business side of things. Even as you move up in fine dining, that education is still lacking. By the time you reach the level of opening your own restaurant, you’re never fully prepared, and you have to figure things out as you go—hoping you don’t make the wrong decisions.

That said, I don’t discredit anyone working to make a living — at the end of the day, we all work to support ourselves. But for me, cooking has always been about passion first. If money were my only focus, I would have chosen a different career.

We’re open to hiring inexperienced staff because we can teach them our way of doing things. We always strive to be our best, but sometimes our best is only 70% on a given day, and that’s okay. We can’t be at 100% all the time, and we never know what someone might be going through in their personal life.

"Open your eyes, pay attention, focus, and stay quiet while being taught. Ask questions to learn more."

Looking back, I now see the fear, disappointment, and misery that came with that approach, and I don’t want that for anyone who works with me. It’s an ongoing challenge to be a more forgiving chef and mentor, but I continue learning and growing from these moments. This shift in mindset has led to a lot of success, and I want to keep moving in this direction—creating a more fun, dynamic environment for both my team and our guests. The Duck Sel experience is meant to feel like a celebration, where everyone in the room is having a great time.

As a chef and owner, I’ve had to accept small mistakes, which wasn’t an easy lesson. Watching dishes go out that aren’t absolutely perfect can be tough, but in the end, I have a happy, dedicated staff who want to come back and try again next time. We’re all human, and mistakes happen—including my own.

My pursuit of perfection has always been a battle between where I came from and who I learned from. Over the past few years — just a short span of my career — I’ve come to realize that the traditional culture of the yelling chef and grueling hours is not sustainable for me or anyone else. Finding the balance between being the best I can be and maintaining my well-being has required letting go of some of that relentless drive for perfection.