From culinary school to combat zones, parenting through COVID to rebuilding a business—this is the story of trusting my gut when nothing else made sense.
With the ink still warm on my business degree from University at Buffalo, I decided the business world wasn’t for me. I put myself through culinary school in New York City, working in the commissary at Peter Kump’s New York Cooking School. That’s where I met the legendary Julie Sahni—she called me her gobong, which I think meant “guy who fetches me stuff.” And honestly, that felt about right.
After graduating, I landed a spot at Union Square Cafe, one of the top-rated restaurants in NYC at the time. I thought I was on my way. But a little over a year later, I was burned out. Working nights, weekends, and holidays left me feeling disconnected from real life. So I stepped away from the kitchen with no grand plan—just a quiet voice inside saying, this isn’t it.
I found myself selling stocks at a small brokerage in Lower Manhattan. I was there on September 11th. Like many Americans, I felt the urge to do something, anything to help. I enlisted in the Air Force and became a linguist. As a musician, language came naturally to me, and I was selected to learn Korean—one of the most challenging languages taught at DLI. For 63 straight weeks, I immersed myself in the language. I went from not knowing kimchi to reading Korean newspapers cover to cover. I was then stationed in Korea, where I met my wife and stayed for over five years.
When my enlistment ended, we came home to the U.S.
In the years that followed, I went to Afghanistan twice as a contractor. The work was serious and the money was good, but it didn’t take long for me to realize: I didn’t want to spend my life in a war zone. Somewhere in the middle of all that dust and distance, something shifted. I started to dream about a new kind of life—one with stability, peace, and family. I began to picture myself as a father. I wanted to coach Little League. I wanted to be around. I wanted to build something.
And for whatever reason, I kept imagining a turkey sandwich. I’m not kidding. Not just any sandwich either—fresh roasted turkey, soft bread, maybe a little homemade ranch. I didn’t know what it meant at the time, but that image stuck with me.
So when the opportunity came to buy what I thought was a little deli in an office park—Apple Spice Box Lunch & Catering—I jumped. Turns out, it was so much more. The corporate catering world in the DMV was deep, fast-paced, and highly competitive. I didn’t know what I was walking into—but I showed up hungry to learn and committed to doing it right.
From the beginning, I let quality and customer feedback guide me. We weren’t the cheapest, but we made damn good food. We slow-roasted our turkey, cooked roast beef sous vide for tenderness, and made our ranch dressing from scratch every week. Over time, word got out. CEOs and interns alike started noticing. Our little deli wasn’t so little anymore.
Then COVID hit. A thriving team of 20 was reduced to 4. Business cratered. In 2021, I wasn’t sure we’d make it. But I made a choice: protect the kids’ world, even as mine unraveled.
I reminded myself not to wear my fear around them. I made deposits into the “daddy bank” every day—homeschool lessons, backyard lunches, little rituals of safety and presence. I saw the unexpected gift: time freedom. That’s real wealth. And even as revenue vanished, I knew our worst-case wasn’t so bad. If we had to, we could pay off the house and start over. We wouldn’t be on the street. That clarity helped me sleep.
That year, I also joined a Vistage group of small business owners. Our coach’s motto was: “No Limits.” She pushed us to think bigger, to stop shrinking from our own potential. Being in a room with other leaders navigating chaos—yet still growing—shifted something in me. I began looking for new ways to make a living that aligned with my real goals: being present with my family and living a peaceful life.
I also knew that if I was going to rebuild from scratch, I had to do it differently. I would empower my leaders to grow the business while I stepped back to act as a coach from the sidelines. I’d spend more time at home with my family and pursue other dreams. I let Apple Spice become a place where I could flex my leadership and coaching muscles—investing in the people who stuck by me through the worst of times.
Fast Forward to 2025…
Today, that same catering business is thriving again—and now it’s got company.
LL Events, our full-service catering arm, was born from the ashes of COVID. Now we cater everything from weddings to swanky charity dinners, bringing restaurant-level food and hospitality to events that matter.
Embracing Enough, this blog, became a living journal to reflect on food, parenting, entrepreneurship—and the mindset that helped me rebuild.
Leads by Lou continues to grow. I’ve helped dozens of small businesses—including Apple Spice Box Lunch and LL Events—find their footing online in a world where visibility is everything.
Our kids are happy, healthy, and kind. My wife and I are grounded and grateful. I have a family that loves me and a few close friends I can talk to about anything. That’s wealth. And the goals we once scribbled into a coffee-stained notebook during COVID? We're hitting them.
I didn’t plan this. But I followed my gut—through burnout, 9/11, military service, Afghanistan, entrepreneurship, a pandemic, and into a second act I never saw coming.
Like Forrest Gump said:
“I don’t know if we each have a destiny, or if we’re all just floatin’ around accidental-like… but I think maybe it’s both.”
I may not always know what’s next. But I know I’ll keep showing up, listening hard, and trusting that quiet voice that got me this far.
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