Feisty, authentic, fiercely independent and non-binary, Ho lays bare the hospitality world mostly unseen by those eating and drinking at its venues. Ho had a hugely dysfunctional, abusive childhood, leaving home as a teenager to finish studies funded by working in hospitality and shows caustic writing skills when detailing the opening of a new restaurant.

Describing the industry as completely unregulated and dependent on a system of labour exploitation, Ho claims that it takes blind determination to open a new restaurant when fighting Melbourne rental prices, food costs, the fickle nature of diners, and the fact that there are already too many restaurants per person in Victoria.

Then there is the way Ho exposes the life of ‘hospo’ workers. They formed the first real family Ho had ever had, and it was common for whole troupes of workers from various restaurants and bars to congregate in a favourite bar once their place of employment closed.

So Ho was drinking too much, craving the society of hospo peers when not working at night, and finding that life had lost a lot of its flavour.

A holiday in New York provided a boost and a circuit-breaker, but returning to Melbourne showed Ho that much of the remaining staff at the restaurant where they worked were disenchanted, overworked, and anxious.

Ho saves some of their most acerbic writing to decode the ads restaurants placed for new staff. It is like real estate lingo and would-be employees need to know that code, such as the real meaning of ‘new and exciting restaurant,’ ‘resilient staff’, ‘buzzy CBD location’, or ‘dedicated staff’.

The final chapters of this memoir are the best, portraying the heartache when Ho’s best and closest friend dies; Ho’s foray into bar ownership; and how they eventually left the whole hospitality industry to become a freelance food writer.

Reviewed by Jennifer Somerville