A couple weeks ago I interviewed the chef-owners of Joe Beef, David McMillan and Fred Morin, at Books Are Magic in Brooklyn about their new book: Joe Beef: Surviving the Apocalypse. Midway through the Q&A, the two chefs—who are legendary, along with their iconic Montreal restaurant, for bacchanalian-level eating and drinking—began discussing their recent sobriety and how it has impacted the culture of their restaurants. They spoke with such candor that I asked McMillan to talk more. Here’s what he had to say. —Julia Kramer

I was never falling-down drunk. I was never belligerent. I always got my work done. I was never unkempt. I was always clean, I was always shaved, I always performed at work. I was always kind and gracious in the dining room. But I lived in hell.

When we opened Joe Beef in 2005, we were inspired by Martin Picard at Au Pied de Cochon, by these grandiose bistros of Paris, by seafood towers, by excess. We were two portly men who ate and drank well. I was and still am very insecure about anybody coming to the restaurant and not having a spectacular meal. I want people to drink and eat to excess. I promote it.

The community of people I surrounded myself with ate and drank like Vikings. It worked well in my twenties. It worked well in my thirties. It started to unravel when I was 40. I couldn’t shut it off. All of a sudden, there was no bottle of wine good enough for me. I’m drinking, like, literally the finest wines of the world. Foie gras is not exciting. Truffles are meh. I don’t want lobster; I had it yesterday. What am I looking for, eating and drinking like this every day?

I started asking myself questions about alcoholism. What was I showing my children by eating and drinking like a Viking in front of them at the cottage? I wasn’t acting on many opportunities because I was hungover most of the time. I was medicating with food. I was medicating with alcohol. And finally it just got to a point where I was just really unhappy. My managers knew it, my staff knew it, and it strained my personal life at home. I Googled “Stop drinking,” “How do you stop drinking?,” “Are there pills you can take to stop drinking?” I’ve done a thousand Google searches over five years. I’ve tried to quit drinking 100 times and failed 110 times.

It was a gift for me when I realized: I’m done. I was either at one restaurant medicating or at another one medicating or another one medicating. I think all my managers got together one day and realized I was always medicating somewhere. A little over a year ago, they interventioned me and sent me off to a rehab center that a few friends had gone to. I wasn’t resistant, because I was so unhappy. I learned a whole bunch of things about myself, about sobriety, about traumatic events that had happened to me in my childhood. I didn’t even know what the word codependent meant before I went to rehab. I didn’t know what people-pleasing meant. I didn’t know what an enabler was. Ultimately I took a crash-course in alcoholism, wellness, and the language of sobriety.

In rehab they tell you: We recommend strongly that you stay away from bars and restaurants and the wine trade. We recommend strongly that you look for another job. I have no formal education. I’ve been working in kitchens since I was 16 years old. I have a wine company. I also make wine. And my whole existence in raising my family is based on the act of selling food and wine. I know nothing else. My rehab knew the reality: The fact is, I’m going back to the restaurant. I understand your recommendations. I may fail. But all I know is the restaurant business.