Bruce Wieszala is a prodigal son of sorts. Born and raised in Buffalo he spent his formative years as a student and musician, playing for the likes of Buffalo’s famed Pinheads. A career as a manufacturing engineer based in Atlanta, GA proved financially successful but personally unfulfilling. Wieszala chose instead to follow his passion, taking an outrageous pay cut in exchange for an entry-level position with a national restaurant chain. His previous incarnation as an engineer required strict attention to detail, a characteristic that had great value in the kitchen when paired with a passion for the art itself. It wasn’t long before he was working in the kitchens of some of Atlanta’s finest restaurants; Emeril’s, Restaurant Eugene, JOËL, Seeger’s and Woodfire Grill. Atlanta's climate allows for local food sourcing year round, and most of the city’s better chefs make daily trips to the market. Wieszala adopted this methodology as well, and under Chef Michael Touhy at Woodfire Grill, Wieszala’s appreciation for the fabricating of animals and the art of charcuterie was ignited.

A few years ago Wieszala returned to Buffalo to discover that finding a restaurant owner willing  to allow the local-centric chef to practice his ethos of “always fresh and mostly local” was going to be a challenge. With no farmers in sight (and no network with which to find one), and the discovery that many of the area's restaurants were using cheap, poor quality ingredients to feed an unwitting public, Wieszala nearly threw up his hands and returned to the south. Fortunately, just before a hastened retreat back to the lush markets of Atlanta, he found himself at the helm of Williamsville’s Verbena, where the owner respected his choices to do things the way he saw fit.  Now after a recent move to Verbena’s sister restaurant, The Stillwater in downtown Buffalo, Wieszala’s renowned penchant for local foods--particularly proteins--has made him a hero amongst many of his peers.

Farms from all over Western New York speckle his menu: Painted Meadow, Promised Land CSA, Flavor Farm, T-Meadow and Hanova Hills, to name a few. He unselfishly talks (and sometimes walks) other chefs through his methods for little more than the reward of a cold beer, which is just what we sipped during a meeting at a local restaurant owned by a mutual friend.  When asked why people should consider sourcing local, he responded resolutely. “Today most people have no idea where their food comes from. They have no idea what soil it has been planted in, what the animals were fed, what conditions they lived in........that's why we have all of these food scares. And now companies are adding things like ammonia to ground beef to suppress the growth of E. coli? If you have a relationship with a farmer, you won't have a problem with your food. If you buy locally and seasonally and you know where your food is coming from, you don't have to worry about these things.” Despite his enthusiasm for the subject, after months of working seven-day-a-week, sixteen-hour-a-day shifts, Wieszala stared at me across the table with red-rimmed eyes, oozing exhaustion from every pore.

“Here’s what I want to know, Bruce,” I said.  “I want to know how--or why--are you doing all of this, when you could just catch a flight to Atlanta...or anywhere, and have it all so much easier?”

“This is where I come from,” he said quietly, looking down, carefully studying his tired and battered hands.  “This is where my roots are; my heart is here.” Then he raised his head, looking me firmly in the eye, “This is what I do.”