Richard Alan Sims

“Improvise. Adapt. Overcome.” Every U.S. Marine knows this mantra, recites this mantra, shares its lessons with those they love. Richard Alan Sims, the Marine we love and — with hearts broken — now mourn, preached this gospel with a fervency likely unheard of in any other kitchen but his own.

Rich relished a hearty meal as much as he enjoyed laboring over one. His chopping block was no battlefield. It was venerated ground. Slicing, mincing, and zesting were joys not chores for him. Rich began honing his culinary skills following his honorable discharge in service to our nation, taking local cooking classes with his sister, Cindy, no arm-twisting needed.

Later, encouraged by his wife, Margaret, and following his retirement from the Chicago Transit Authority, where he worked for 25 years as a conductor and switchman, Rich enrolled in Kendall College’s culinary arts program and earned a Professional Cookery Certificate. During his year there, he revered his instructors like a recruit obeys his superiors, garnering new mantras, like: Pluck, truss, roast. Render, reduce, reconstitute. Blanch, parboil, poach.

At Kendall, Al Dente became his best friend, and writing recipes became a passion. Rich would pepper his prose with terms evoking not only his culinary knowledge but his military training. He wouldn’t just brine a turkey, he’d “enforce moistness into the flesh.” Emphasis on force. Yet when the brine was done, like a peacekeeper mobilizing, he’d caution care in lowering the sacred bird into the savory brew.

Rich didn’t just watch what he was cooking; he’d “monitor” it, “stand guard,” informing anyone who’d listen they’d be wasting their time if not. And God help the dinner guest who preferred burgers well done. Still, he’d school the heretic in exactly how long to “incinerate” them.

Sometimes gruff, often blunt, Rich softened like butter sizzling in a skillet when his daughter, Savannah, was born. Lucky for her, who followed Rich everywhere, she outgrew his martial gait. Lucky for them both, his early retirement allowed him the luxury of walking Savannah to and from school. He soon parlayed playground culinary discussions into cooking classes and catering gigs. Heaven sent.

From the halls of Gary Elementary School — in Chicago’s Little Village — to the shores of possibility when Rich discovered the world of fine cuisine, his journey was enriching but all too short. Unable to overcome the indignities of a disease that overpowered him, Rich passed away in December 2025 between his 66th birthday and Christmas Day.

On January 31, 2026, a Marine Corps Honor Guard joined close family and friends to celebrate Rich’s life, breaking bread at Laschett’s Inn, a neighborhood favorite, on what would have been the 90th birthday of Jacqueline Diviak Sims, mother of Rich and his two siblings.

For a meaningful way to honor Rich, continue donating to your local food pantry. For a collection of Rich’s creations, send a request to [email protected].

Semper Fi, Chef, beloved father, brother, uncle, cousin, partner, and friend. Thank you for the memories. We’ll cherish your recipes.