The short version: Tim Hollingsworth called The French Laundry for months until they let him try out, and found out three years later that HR had mailed offer letters to two people by mistake. He kept the job by being first in and last out, ran the kitchen at 29, and won Netflix’s The Final Table. His answer to people whose resumes get ignored: nobody responded to mine either. Put yourself in the room, then say yes when everyone looks at you.
Updated September 2026. Originally published June 2019.
Two cooks showed up for one job at The French Laundry, and one of them was Tim Hollingsworth.
Thomas Keller wanted him. Eric Ziebold wanted a different guy. HR mailed offer letters to both. On day one there were two new hires in the kitchen and a plan to move Tim down the street to Bouchon. He found out three years later. By then he’d been putting dishes on the menu of what people call the best restaurant in the world since he was 21.
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“I was young, ignorant, naive, whatever, and thought I could get a job there. Ultimately I called and called and called and called until they allowed me to try out. And then I got out and called and called and called, and finally I received a letter in the mail. I was hired.”
Months of calling. Then a paperwork glitch. Then 13 years, the last stretch running the kitchen at 29, a Bocuse d’Or, a restaurant of his own in downtown LA called Otium, and a Netflix win on The Final Table. I sat with him at Otium for episode 100 and the thing I kept coming back to is how much of his story he credits to luck, and how little of it was.
Nobody responded to my resume either
Before The French Laundry, Tim’s resume was construction. Sixth grade through high school he worked for his dad, remodeling every Blockbuster Video in Northern California, cleaning cell towers, pulling telecom cable. My dad sold copiers and I rode along in the van thinking I do not want this, so I understood. He almost joined the Marines and backed out over a girl. He took a dishwashing job at a mom and pop place near his house because the hour commute to his dad’s job sites and then walking to school was too much. The dishwasher also did prep, and there were only three or four stations in the whole restaurant, so he touched everything. That’s where it started.
He decided the two best chefs in the world were Keller and Alain Ducasse, bought their cookbooks, and picked one to work for. He had been making pâtés and beef bourguignon at a small country French place. Everyone else in Keller’s kitchen had worked for a big name chef.
So he made himself hard to move to Bouchon.
“I was the underdog, but I had really good work ethic. I would show up first in the morning, and I would be the last person to leave in my department. Certain people try to get out of work and pawn stuff off on people. I was the person that was like, yeah, I’ll do it. If I was a commis and I helped the fish butcher butcher fish, now I’m learning fish butchery.”
Either through work ethic or right time right place, in his words, he stayed. People apply to Otium today, then message him on Instagram to say nobody responded.
“When I applied at The French Laundry, no one responded to my resume either. I called and I called and I called and I called and I made sure I got the job. What are you talking about?”
I heard the same thing from Ben Mezrich after 190 rejections.
What he did once he was in
He nearly blew it the first year anyway. The kitchen was having trouble with artichokes oxidizing. Keller asked if he was following the recipe. Tim said yes, but it’s not my favorite.
“I was very close to losing my job that day. It was an ignorant statement. Ironically, it’s still the recipe I use. So I was very wrong. I was 21 years old, I was a young ignorant kid.”
What he took from Keller instead of a beard (he wasn’t allowed one for 13 years) was where to look. Keller owned the building, the rocks outside, the garden, and Tim was taught to run a restaurant the way an owner runs it. When he walks up to Otium now he’s looking at the things underground.
“For me, the bathroom being clean is very important, because that’s the last place you would expect to be cleaned. If I teach this entire staff to care about going in there and washing their hands and wiping down the sink afterwards, and if there’s water on the mirror, wiping it down, then what do you think they’re paying attention to? Every little detail everywhere.”
Get in the room by calling. Keep the room by caring about the last place anyone looks.
Lost
He left after 13 years without a plan. Maybe a taco stand. Meetings with CAA about television. Consulting on a hotel in Korea and for a restaurant group in Lebanon.
“It was interesting, but ultimately it wasn’t very rewarding. Being behind the stove, cooking for people, was more rewarding than designing a menu for a hotel restaurant. That wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t what fulfilled me. I was kind of lost a little bit. I knew I wanted something. I didn’t know what I wanted.”
If you’re working out when to quit your job, plan for that stretch. The next thing is usually not waiting for you.
Then the Eli and Edith Broad Foundation tapped him on the shoulder. They wanted a restaurant to support the museum on Bunker Hill. Tim didn’t want to be a museum restaurant, and when he lived across the street during construction you couldn’t get a cup of coffee in that neighborhood on a weekend. He said yes anyway. The pre-opening parties were 1,000 people one night and 750 the next, September 19 and 20. His first daughter was born September 14. Then four or five hundred covers a night.
Everybody looked at Tim
He says “tapped on the shoulder” and “right time, right place” a lot. Otium was a tap. Netflix was a tap. I pushed on it, because he had also driven to LA to chase the TV thing and thrown his comfort zone out twice, once for Napa and once for LA.
“I’ve been very fortunate to be in the right time, right place, but also I’m the one that said I want to work at The French Laundry. I’m the one that called and called and called and got the job there. I was hired by accident, but I put forth the effort to do that. It’s up to the individual to say I want this, or to say yes.”
The Bocuse d’Or is his example. In 2008 Keller walked into a sous chef meeting and asked who was going to compete. Everybody looked at Tim.
“I was like, okay, I’ll do it. I could have said no, that’s not for me. But I said yes. It’s tapped on the shoulder a lot, and it’s right time, right place, but you have to put yourself in those situations. People need to define their own destiny, and destiny is by saying yes to things.”
That practice round was also the day his dad, who’d spent years thinking cooking was what your mom does, watched the technique and started respecting the job. Tim’s not giving himself enough credit. Right place is wherever you put yourself, and the tap only comes if you’re already standing there.
Two guys showed up for one job. Be the one who called.
From episode 100 of my podcast, Noah Kagan Presents. Listen on Spotify or Apple Podcasts.
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