Big, friendly Russell Shorb of Harrison was always a lot like so many of us. His 45 years had been filled with hopes and aspirations along with more than his share of bleaker times and painful hard knocks.
The married father always enjoyed cooking. He dreamed early on of becoming a chef whose culinary skills others envied and admired. Accordingly, he'd earned an associate's degree in 1999 at the Academy of Culinary Arts in Pennsylvania and soon began working at any position he could find.
As you might expect, landing a chef's position where finer cuisine is expected and appreciated was much easier dreamed than done.
So he took cooking jobs near Harrison at chains like Applebee's and Fudd-ruckers and bid his wife Jennifer and children goodbye each day to make the 28-mile trip to prepare food in such Branson restaurants. Those jobs paid the bills but barely scratched his itch to create in ways he'd learned at the academy. The set meals he helped cook were not planned or prepared with his flair and design.
In these settings, Russell quickly became capable of preparing the same ol' menu items darned near blindfolded.
Over time he grew weary of the round-trip drive. He landed a job as the fry cook at Edwards Grocery deli in Harrison where the crispy fried chicken and Jo-Jo potatoes are legendary across Boone County.
Again, he was back to established methods in the supermarket's limited kitchen. It also did little to stir the creative side this amiable man longed to pursue.
It's been said that timing is everything. And in June the timing was right for Russell to fill the vacant position as head cook at the Harrison Country Club.
He spent summer months preparing pretty much standard fare fashioned from suitable (but less than top quality) ingredients because of budgetary constraints common to most smaller country clubs.
The membership quickly grew to like and appreciate the friendly man who towered about 6'4" and topped the scales at around 350 pounds. The fact that he was diabetic was something he didn't hide. But he much preferred talking about food than his health problems.
In many ways, the move from being a talented line cook at chain restaurants and a supermarket deli to the head cook at a country club was a seemingly ordained career step in the right direction. After all, this is a city of 13,000 with limited opportunities for someone with his grander career hopes.
Then fate intervened. The door to the potential future he'd long sought finally cracked ajar.
The club's board of directors decided to seriously upgrade Friday night dinners to a white tablecloth "experience" comparable with dining at finer private clubs. That meant purchasing quality foods and creating a customized weekly menu worthy of attracting scores of members to its tables.
Word went out that one week ago Friday would be the dawning of an upgraded menu and near gourmet meals to reflect finer dining.
It also finally brought this man the esteemed title he'd so badly longed for. He'd become "Chef Russell" for a private country club. With the status and title came a handsome professional chef's coat and the freedom to order ingredients, set menus and prepare delicious meals to his liking.
I could see the pride on his face and hear it in his voice as we chatted last Friday evening about his landmark evening as "Chef Russell." He'd invested so many hours planning and preparing for the special night.
And did he ever outdo himself, filling every table and serving more than 80 fine-dining meals. It was the club's largest Friday night dinner crowd in years.
Appetizers included shrimp and lobster-stuffed ravioli. Entrees were choices from between broiled lobster tail, parmesan and herb-encrusted steak, or stuffed chicken florentine with side choices of duchess potatoes, five-cheese pasta bake, asparagus, salad and Italian wedding soup.
The mountainous man left his busy kitchen several times to stroll, beaming from the steady compliments and smiles of satisfied customers. This was truly his night to shine.
It was equally difficult to choose between Chef Russell's two dessert offerings: A dark chocolate caramel volcano cake with raspberry sauce or white chocolate ganache cheesecake. Either melted in your mouth.
After the crowd departed, he walked to the parking lot about 9:30. After 14 hours, Chef Russell was ready to go to the house and shut down with his family.
At home, Russell reportedly at first felt ill but soon seemed better. He sat with Jennifer to talk and I'm told laughed about some of the lighter parts of the first night of his new career. Then, without warning, he slumped over.
And just that quickly, the man who hours earlier had proven himself as the fine dining chef he'd always wanted to be was gone.
His fate at such an unexpected moment understandably generated deep grief in those who loved and cared for him. Yet the same fate awaits each of us, sometimes claiming the more fortunate in the same gentle and least expected way. I find satisfaction in knowing young Chef Russell Shorb didn't depart before showing just what he could achieve in finally attaining his fondest dream.
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Mike Masterson's column appears regularly in the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. Email him at mmasterson@arkansasonline.com.
Editorial on 09/24/2016