It’s 7:30 A.M. It’s Charles Taylor’s favorite time of the day: He gets to wake up his two-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Viola.

As the executive chef at Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse in Ann Arbor, he cherishes every moment with her. After all, on most nights, he stays at the restaurant until the wee hours of the morning.

His time with Viola is precious, as he likes to say. And Charles’ wife, Kristina, notices just that and loves his interactions with Viola. As a Kindergarten teacher, Kristina is out of the house before Viola wakes up.

“With our daughter, he is so sweet,” Kristina said. “I love his interaction with her. He gets that morning time with her. I am up super early and off to work, so he is on Viola duty.

“I love how he is with her. She talks about him often when his working. I hope Viola gets that tenderness more so than my out going-ness.”

If there is one obvious quality about Charles, it’s that. He’s tender. Just like all the Grade-A steaks he sees through his kitchen. And contrary to belief, chefs can be just like Charles — soft and caring. And most are.

They don’t all yell like Gordon Ramsay. They all don’t degrade their co-workers.

Meet Charles Taylor.

              *****

Charles Taylor grew up in a small town just outside of Grand Rapids, Michigan. He was like any other kid. He liked to play video games and sports, to eat food and just hang out with his friends. But he didn’t have a real direction in life as he progressed through middle and high school.

“I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do,” Charles said.

Food never crossed his mind until his parents forced him to work. His first job: running tables at the local Papa John’s. He brought out the pizzas to the tables, which led him to think about every possible pizza topping permutation.

“I was working at a pizza place,” Charles said, refusing to say it was a Papa Johns because it humiliates him, “and I thought green peppers and bacon sounded really good on the pizza because the bacon is smoky and the peppers are ever-so-slightly sweet and add a bit of moisture. And someone said I should go to cooking school at that point.”

He listened and hasn’t looked back.

*****

Its 9:00 A.M. Charles arrives at Ruth’s Chris. He heads to the office about two hours earlier than normal because he wanted to put Viola to bed for once. He rarely gets to. On a regular day, Charles will arrive to work and immediately gets the line rolling, opting to do the administrative paperwork after all orders are complete. He sometimes finishes his work well into the early hours of the morning.

But on January 27th, he is the first one in the kitchen. He surveys the restaurant as if he’s overseeing his empire. He heads back toward the kitchen down the left side of the restaurant past a glowing wine-cellar before entering the kitchen.

After a quick glance to ensure the silver countertops are shining, the broiler is clean and the dishes are put away, Charles heads back to his office that is no bigger than a dorm-room closet. He pulls out a stack of papers.

First, he looks at the reservation list. He quickly notices that there is a reservation for 40 people and another for 20, and both have 8 oz. filet mignons as their only beef option. He knows the menu item’s stock will likely be depleted by the end of the day and makes note of that. He does the same for a number of other ingredients and he places a giant order that will be delivered early next morning.

Once he’s done with his paperwork, he exits his office and walks toward the walk-in freezer. On his way, he notices a small pile of crumbs on the floor. Without hesitation, Charles starts sweeping the dirty spot. And that small dirty spot soon turned into half the kitchen, ultimately turning into the full kitchen.

“His kitchen is spotless,” Kristina said. “He gets very up tight if he gets a point off in his health inspections. When there is down time in his kitchen, he has people cleaning and his is very thorough.”

Added one other Ann Arbor chef, who asked to remain anonymous: “I don’t sweep my kitchen. But I know other chefs who do. But it’s not like I don’t do any monotonous, tedious tasks. So it’s not surprising that he does it. … You would never see that on TV. And that’s a shame.”

Clearly, to many, Charles' actions are not all that surprising. But could you imagine Gordon Ramsay sweeping his own kitchen? Or any chef after watching an episode of Hell’s Kitchen? No way. Just ask someone who has worked with him.

“People think prison’s tough, but compared to working for Gordon it’d be a breeze,” said Jason— an old protégé of Ramsay for 11 years— to the Daily Mail. All they do is sit in their cells all day playing Nintendo, this was 18 hours of tough graft.”

This stereotype bothers other Ann Arbor chefs. Especially, Charles.

“It gives the profession such a bad look,” said one other local steakhouse chef, who asked not to be named. “When people come to work for me the first time, it’s often a shock to them that I’m not this evil person whose goal it is to fire them.

“I don’t know Charles Taylor. I’ve never seen him work. But I know he is like the rest of us Ann Arbor chefs. We’re nice people.”

*****

With his sights set on cooking, Charles enrolled in a two-year culinary program at Grand Rapids Community College. He finished in six years.

Charles needed to support himself and pay for his own college and he didn’t have the savings to do that. So he got a job at the JW Marriott in Grand Rapids working as a line cook.

There, Charles needed to learn a broader set of skills. He needed to butcher, flip omelets, make juices and dressings and, perhaps most importantly, learn how to work under immense pressure.

His boss, Chef Yosef, had a way of inspiring Charles. He led by example and never hesitated to help correct his errors. Charles wanted to be like Yosef someday.

By this time, he was already dating his current wife, but it’s hard to imagine that considering Charles was working 85 hours a week.

“It was too good of an opportunity to pass up,” Charles said.

Because of school hours, Charles went to JW before the sun rose and prepared breakfast. Once the rush was over, he would head out to school and return as soon as his last class ended to help prep and eventually work the dinner shift. Sometimes, the dinner shift served over 300 people and only Charles and Yosef would prepare the food.

“People who don’t combine the experience of working on the line and going to culinary school,” his wife said of Charles and his long hours on the line, “I would think would have a super hard time.”

She’s right. And Charles wouldn’t have wanted to learn in a different way. Chef Yosef allowed Charles to experiment throughout all the craziness. One day, Yosef and Charles butchered a cow for a July 4th celebration. With a whole cow, there came tons of beef fat.

So when the night was done, Charles, and another young aspiring chef who was brought in to assist for the night, took all the beef fat and rendered it down to oil. He then cut up some potatoes and made beef-fat French fries that he said could be served at any restaurant in the world. They were that good.

He knew this creativity could translate into an executive chef’s position. But the time he was spending working toward that goal was starting to become costly. He was missing out. He wasn’t around as much as Kristina liked.

“It is very challenging that he has to work almost every holiday,” she said. “Not to mention the time surrounding a major holidays. I find myself attending several family and friend functions without him.

“It was heart breaking when he had to miss our friends wedding last December because of the long holiday hours. Even after a long night he still made the 45 min drive and got there for the last 15 minutes.

“He is so adored by those closest to us which makes our time together extra special when he is able to join the party.”

But he was on a mission. And he wasn’t going to fail.

*****

It’s 1:00 P.M. Charles has finalized his game plan for the evening. By now, his entire staff, minus one, Angelo, has arrived. He calls Angelo to see where he is, only to find out his car won’t start. He sends one of his wait staff to go pick him up.

And once that crisis is resolved, a minor one that is, Charles does the first thing all day that resembles his title as an executive chef: he touches food.

Charles takes out all the filets for the night. They are wet aged, so he removes their packaging. Once he does that, he lays them out like cookies on a cookie sheet, and dries them off and then puts each steak into a hamburger shaper and pounds the steak until its in a perfect circular shape. He did this 150 times.

“The further up you go as a chef, the less cooking you do,” Charles said. “It’s annoying sometimes, but I know I’m helping get whatever needs to be done, done.”

It’s a task anyone on the street could do. Not someone who has grinded for years to get the position he is in.

As Charles pounded away, Chaz, the pastry chef, was working on the pie crusts for their apple and banana cream pies and Angelo finally arrived and turned on the broiler and set it to 1800 degrees — a Ruth’s Chris standard. It takes over an hour for the broiler to get hot enough.

For a moment, it seemed like there was nothing for the Charles to do. He kept talking about a chef’s meal that he was going to make later in the afternoon. Charles seemed bored.

And he was.

So he took some of the dirty plates and bowls that he staff had used during their preparation and he ran the dishwasher. What kind of chef does the dishes? Well, Charles, for one, and this isn’t surprising to his wife.

“We work so much, him and I,” she said. “It’s funny because at home when it comes to getting things done around the house, it’s such an equal relationship. He mops the floor at home; I fold the laundry.

“You got to be able to roll up your sleeves and do the job other people aren't willing to do because then it makes you an effective leader. If they see you doing the job that you’re expecting them to do, I think that earns him a lot of respect.”

And that he has.

“He’s very level headed,” Chaz, the pastry chef, said. “He knows what he’s doing. There’s never been a panic situation.

“We were told from the beginning, don’t be worry about getting fired. We work things out. That takes a lot of stress off your job.”

This is completely contrary to the conditions at Alinea, a 3-Michilen star restaurant in Chicago.

“The kitchen environment here is very intense,” said Grant Achatz, chef of Alinea, to the Institute of Culinary America. “It requires a great amount of discipline, a great amount of fortitude. They get here between 11 o'clock and noon, and they're here until two in the morning. It's an immense amount of work in a very strict, almost military­like, environment. It's difficult. We're trying to perform at the highest level with an extreme amount of professionalism.”

So are the employees of Ruth’s Chris. The job can be done by leading by example. No voice raising is necessary. Ask Charles or anyone who has ever worked with him.

“I’d argue that most restaurants are run Charles’ kitchen, said another Ann Arbor Main Street chef. “I know mine is. This isn’t a knock on Grant. Whatever works, works. I just wish our type of kitchen would be showcased more.”

*****

On a summer day in June back in 2011, Charles’ boss called him before work and said he needed to have a meeting. Dozens of thoughts floated through his mind.

“I didn’t know what they were going to say,” Charles said. “I was on my day off and I dressed up. And they told me I got it. And my heart sank.”

Charles was told he was going to be the sous chef at Ruth’s Chris in Grand Rapids — one of the chain’s busiest restaurant.

Immediately, he felt nervous.

“That was the biggest step for me,” Charles said, “because I didn’t know if I was ready for it.”

What he’d find out is that he was more than ready and he finally knew he could run his own kitchen.

*****

It’s 4:00 P.M. Charles goes to the refrigerator and pulls out 20 chicken breasts, 10 onions and 10 green and red peppers. Once again, Charles was doing nothing productive for any customer that walked through the front door.

He says those ingredients are for the staff meal and then goes on to grab blackening spice and chili powder.

He slices each chicken breast into six even strips, and cuts down every onion and pepper before than you could even shed a tear. He throws it all the chicken into one bowl and the vegetables in another and then douses it all with the aforementioned spices.

“You can never go wrong with blackening and chili powder,” Charles said. “I don’t even know what is in the stuff, but, man is it good.”

 The top of the broiler gets incredibly hot; in fact, it gets hotter than the broiler itself — exceeding 2000 degrees. That is where he cooks the staff meal. He loads up the flat top with oil and throws all the food and veggies on top. He uses two spatulas to mix up the chicken and the veggies just as his sous chef, Tim, walks in. Tim brought fresh corn tortillas and salsa — completing the chicken fajitas staff meal.

“Charles, thank you for making the chicken separate from the vegetables,” said Israel, one of the wait staff who is a vegetarian. 

Charles winked back. He knows his staff better than anyone.

*****

Not even two years after he became a sous chef, Charles was on the move again. This time to Ann Arbor where he’d be Ruth’s Chris executive chef.

 “It’s yours to screw up,” his wife told him.

Charles felt conflicted, despite achieving the most coveted spot in the industry. After all, he is working at a chain steakhouse, so critics may say he isn’t that great of a chef that lacks creativity.

“I thought about that,” Charles said. “The good thing about working here is that 85 percent of the food here is made from scratch.

“I work with really good ingredients. I do miss some of the creative aspects sometimes, but I can still do that at home. Maybe one day in the future. But I’m happy to be able to provide for my family.

“The quality is not that of a chain. We’re not Applebee’s or McDonalds. It’s not food you haven’t seen before, but it’s done really well.”

In other words, he runs the Tim Duncan of steakhouses — it will always be around and wow you every time. And it does.

Plus, he still, on occasion, can cook at home and he embraces that, recently cooking a home-made Indian feast for his family and friends.

Charles is proud to come to work every day. But it’s been tough on his family. He and Kristina’s schedules are virtual opposites. And as Viola gets older, it will get harder.

Kristina thinks about this every day, especially as they plan to have another kid. Eventually, she said, one of them will have to call it quits: Kristina as a teacher or Charles as a chef.

“If one of us were ever to stop working,” she said, “I think it would be him. I love to come to work and what I do, but he really enjoys being home, taking care of the house, Viola and passionate about it.”

So, yes, Charles has reached a culinary peak. But he might not be there for long. And remarkably, you’d never know this by talking to him. He’s too tender, sweet and proud to show any signs of distress.

Just ask his staff. He is a gem, just like other Ann Arbor chefs and across the country. They aren’t like Gordon Ramsay.

They are like Charles Taylor.

*****

It’s 6 P.M. Tickets are coming in at a steady rate. No one is panicking. That’s normal for a Charles Taylor kitchen, though. Throughout the night, Charles had flipped steaks, plated mashed potatoes and even swept the floor some more.

Charles, having total faith in his kitchen, looks at over in my direction and says, “Why don’t we cook you one?”

“Are you sure?” I said.

“You didn’t stand here all day for nothing,” he said. “Lets go pick one out.”

I ended up choosing a bone-in rib-eye.

Charles handed me a container and said to shake it generously over the steak. It was a mixture of salt, pepper and another proprietary ingredient. He then handed me a container that looked like a ketchup bottle. It was full of softened butter.

“Now put that all over you steak on one side like you were going to frost a cupcake,” he said.

Right on. Once that was completed, he told me where to place the steak in the broiler. Five minutes later. Done. Perfect medium rare.

All the meanwhile, his staff was executing orders at near perfection and the place still sounded as peaceful as a spa.

The key word is “near.” Charles admits his kitchen makes mistakes. They own up to them, though, and they try not to do it again.

Take, for example, a story of one assistant chef at a kitchen that served a prime rib with out a bone. Her boss wasn’t thrilled.

“(Chef) grabbed a bucket of bones,” she recalled, “kicked open the swinging doors, and started hurling bones into the crowded dining room, screaming "You want bones? Here are your fucking bones!"

You’d never know that was possible watching Charles. Or any other Ann Arbor chef.

Because that’s how Charles Taylor kitchen operates.