“He’d like to see you in the kitchen,” the host called, ushering me towards the unassuming, swinging metal doors. As I pushed them open, I couldn’t help but feel like I was unmasking the man behind the curtain, finally revealing the Ozian wizard whose food I had enjoyed for so many years.

As I entered, I knew I had underestimated the sheer amount of people that it took to run a thriving business. I had assumed there would be people in the kitchen, preparing for the lunchtime rush, and that the man I was seeking would be tucked away in his office, carefully going over accounts and scheduling information.