Read The Making of a Chef Online
Authors: Michael Ruhlman
The Making of a Chef (25 page)
Many students skipped stage altogether because it took too long (and left no time for a smoke afterward) or because they had had enough rich food. Adam never missed stage, nor did I, so I typically ate with him. Usually we talked about food, but this was also the only time outside class I had to hear how my old Skills class was doing and where they were headed.
Over a plate of poached sea bass Adam and Susanne talked about their externships. Adam had the night before called John Schenk at the Monkey Bar and found out that he got the job. Susanne had trailed at Gramercy Tavern and had gotten the externship there that she'd hoped for.
“I trailed at four places,” Adam told her. “Lutèceâthey didn't want meâMatch, Oceana, and Monkey Bar. They didn't want me at Lutèce.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I dunno. I called Eberhard and he said”âAdam intoned a deep German accentâ“âWe have no positions available right now.'”
“What did you think of Oceana?” Susanne asked.
“I liked it a lot. I liked Rick, I liked Rad; he's the night sous chef.”
Susanne said she'd heard the kitchen at Oceana was too macho. Adam said maybe, but Lutèce was more so. “At Lutèce,” Adam said, “the poissonier burned himself while he was trying to plate about twenty plates at the same time. Everybody came all at once. He burned himself, and the sous chef said, âIf you're going to burn yourself, do it quietly. If you don't want to burn yourself, you shouldn't have become a cook.'” Adam chuckled and shook his head. “He wasn't anybody. He was the sous chef, he wasn't even the chef. He was just standing there expediting. He wasn't doing a thing.”
One night I sat beside Eun-Jung, who picked mussels and scallops out of her coquilles St.-Jacques to drain off the sauce. “I miss Korean food,” she said sadly. Too much butter and cream here. Of Garde Manger she said, “Reception food is not our culture. This is very new to me.” Eun-Jung was not allowed to work in the United States, and thus not allowed to extern, so she would move straight into Introduction to Bread Baking after Garde Manger. When she returned to Korea the following spring, she hoped to
work in fine hotels while she earned a master's degree; then she hoped to teach.
work in fine hotels while she earned a master's degree; then she hoped to teach.
“Yeah, me too,” Erica joined in. “That's what I want to do.”
Erica would be heading south to Marcel Desaulniers's Trellis Restaurant and Cafe in Williamsburg, Virginia.
The subject of Adam's photography came up as we finished the sea bass, and waiters arrived to whisk the plates away. He often brought his camera to class and photographed finished plates. He said he hoped to photograph food not for magazines or cookbooks, but rather as fine art. “I think photography and food have a lot in common,” he said.
“Such as?” I asked.
“Contrast,” he said without hesitating. “Textures. Light and dark. Emotion.”
“What emotion is in food?” I asked.
“Every emotion there is,” he said.
“What emotion was in our sea bass?”
Adam smiled and shook his head. The fish had been overcooked, the sauce pale and weak.
A stranger at the table, listening to our conversation, said, “Hatred.”
Adam said, “I have a thing for shooting people while they're eating.” Adam explained that whenever he went to dinner parties, he carried a little disposable camera with him and photographed people as they were putting food into their mouth. “People don't really like it,” he admitted. At home he had an entire envelope stuffed with negatives of such photos. He had not made a print of a single image. Apparently, it was the subversive act of the picture-taking that was important.
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hen Chef Felder introduced herself on Day One, she had done so in an uncommonly elegant way. She had begun by saying her name and origin and then, invoking the name of her mentor, Alice Waters and Waters's command that cooks must support the farmers near them, Felder told us about what she'd done the day before. She had gone to an organic strawberry farm and picked strawberries. She had then gone to a farm that grew peas, and she picked peas. From there she went to a farm that raised chickens and bought chickens that had been butchered that morning. She returned home, snagged some grape leaves, lettuce, and herbs from her garden, and, surprised by all this Hudson Valley bounty, asked six people
to dinner. “That is what food is all about,” she said. “Food is about community. It's about the earth and really taking care of the earth.”
hen Chef Felder introduced herself on Day One, she had done so in an uncommonly elegant way. She had begun by saying her name and origin and then, invoking the name of her mentor, Alice Waters and Waters's command that cooks must support the farmers near them, Felder told us about what she'd done the day before. She had gone to an organic strawberry farm and picked strawberries. She had then gone to a farm that grew peas, and she picked peas. From there she went to a farm that raised chickens and bought chickens that had been butchered that morning. She returned home, snagged some grape leaves, lettuce, and herbs from her garden, and, surprised by all this Hudson Valley bounty, asked six people
to dinner. “That is what food is all about,” she said. “Food is about community. It's about the earth and really taking care of the earth.”
Erica sat spellboundâshe had never heard such things before. She had never before considered that food had an emotional and philosophical element to it, and while Chef Pardus and Chef Smith and no doubt several other chefs had at least implied such ideas, something in Chef Felder made this knowledge accessible to Erica.
“Garde manger takes time,” Chef Felder said to us. “Cooking â¦
takes time
. I don't care how much you like burning and turning on the line. If you don't take time to pay attention to details, you'll never be great cooks.”
takes time
. I don't care how much you like burning and turning on the line. If you don't take time to pay attention to details, you'll never be great cooks.”
Sometimes I imagined that Chef Felder more or less materialized out of ether but when we met for an interview at her cubicle, she was huffing from the hike up four flights of stairs, clearly mortal and carrying a wrinkled brown paper sack filled with fresh new potatoes from a farm near her house, the dirt on them scarcely dry. I had asked to meet with her outside class to know her better and because I thought she might have unusual thoughts on what made a good cook, how one became a good cook. Ratios, of course. Ratios had to be grafted into your bones. Technique, the physical skill, skills of the craft, combined with the knowledge of how food behaves, that too. And experience. But there was something more, and I hoped Chef Felder might lead me there.
Eve Felder grew up in the “low country” of Charleston, South Carolina, within a family that loved food and cooking. She knew all along that she wanted to cook, but her parents insisted she get a college degree. After she received her bachelor's in psychology from the College of Charleston, she found that her desire to cook remained. “I always wanted to cook,” she explained, “but, you see, I was a Southern
lady
, and cooking was
domestic
work.” She would therefore receive no encouragement from her parents here; she learned to cook by herself and eventually, through sheer determination, found her place at Chez Panisse.
lady
, and cooking was
domestic
work.” She would therefore receive no encouragement from her parents here; she learned to cook by herself and eventually, through sheer determination, found her place at Chez Panisse.
“I learned so much,” she said, referring to the seminal chef-farmer restaurant. “Mostly that you need to develop relationships with farmers. At Chez Panisse, we bought our fish from Paul Johnson. Paul worked at the restaurant when he was younger and they've been buying fish from him for twenty years. Alice helped set him up. Steven Sullivan, with Acme Bakery, used to bake in the restaurant. Now he makes a lot of money in a bakery and provides bread for the restaurant twice a day. Most of all I learned that what is most important is to maintain those relationships so that you are building
community within your restaurant as well as outside your restaurant. And that the bottom line is: what does the food
want
?
community within your restaurant as well as outside your restaurant. And that the bottom line is: what does the food
want
?
“What does the food
want
? What does it taste like in its unadulterated form? As young chefs, you'll notice, certainly in my class, I have a group that wants to continue to add more and more ingredients to somethingâthey want to smoke this, they want to do thatâwell, in fact, these potatoes are going to be delicious with just a little bit of sherry-shallot vinaigrette and roasted garlic. They are going to be
delicious
. And I think what they need as young chefs is to taste the food for what it is, and not to impose their ego upon it, but be with it. What does it need, and do I have the technique and taste buds yet to
know
what it needs? Taste it. I try to say, âTaste it, taste it.' I will not use recipes because it needs to be tasted.
want
? What does it taste like in its unadulterated form? As young chefs, you'll notice, certainly in my class, I have a group that wants to continue to add more and more ingredients to somethingâthey want to smoke this, they want to do thatâwell, in fact, these potatoes are going to be delicious with just a little bit of sherry-shallot vinaigrette and roasted garlic. They are going to be
delicious
. And I think what they need as young chefs is to taste the food for what it is, and not to impose their ego upon it, but be with it. What does it need, and do I have the technique and taste buds yet to
know
what it needs? Taste it. I try to say, âTaste it, taste it.' I will not use recipes because it needs to be tasted.
“To taste,” she continued. “Most important is to teach students to taste, and expand their taste buds, to get them to know that when you buy olive oil it's not about buying a brand of olive oil, it's about tasting ten different olive oils and
choosing
the one that you're going to use. Comparative tasting. Just because your child hates foie gras or your child hates caviar, I mean the child inside of you that has never had itâit's an
acquired taste
âas a chef, you need to learn to distinguish what's good. You may not like beets because you haven't had the best beets, but for pete's sake, don't turn yourself off.”
choosing
the one that you're going to use. Comparative tasting. Just because your child hates foie gras or your child hates caviar, I mean the child inside of you that has never had itâit's an
acquired taste
âas a chef, you need to learn to distinguish what's good. You may not like beets because you haven't had the best beets, but for pete's sake, don't turn yourself off.”
It was a beautiful July noon and we'd taken a seat at a table on the St. Andrew's terrace. Craig Edwards, the St. Andrew's fellow, appeared to ask if he could get us something to drink. Craig told me he was infatuated with Chef Felder. She had “this incredible aura,” he said. When he brought us some sparkling water, Chef Felder, in her best Southern-lady accent, said, “Well, I'm honored,” and Craig beamed.
I narrowed the focus to Garde Manger. What in this class was fundamental to a cook's education?
“One is to teach the students formulas,” she said, “so that they are working from basic ratios rather than recipes, and from that basic formula, how to taste whether or not it's good. I truly believe in using ratios. And then once you have a foundation you can start going crazy. But until you know that one cup of flour and one egg will make pasta, and until you know that one cup of oil and one egg yolk will make a cup of mayonnaise, until it's ingrained in your head, then you are tied to a recipe book that's going to have various formulas that may or may not be true because they are not necessarily written by someone who has the technique ⦠. A simple syrup. If
you can take a cup of fruit, and you add a half a cup of sugar to that and let it sit overnight, it's going to release all its juices, and you bring that up to a simmer, and when the fruit is tender, remove the fruit; reduce the juice down to the consistency you want by checking it on a plate. I mean you can then make preserves and jam, you have freedom ⦠. Professionally you need to know those techniques so that you are liberated to do whatever you want to do.”
you can take a cup of fruit, and you add a half a cup of sugar to that and let it sit overnight, it's going to release all its juices, and you bring that up to a simmer, and when the fruit is tender, remove the fruit; reduce the juice down to the consistency you want by checking it on a plate. I mean you can then make preserves and jam, you have freedom ⦠. Professionally you need to know those techniques so that you are liberated to do whatever you want to do.”
Clearly, part of food passion is a relentless curiosity. Chef Felder was the sort of person who did not simply read about foie gras, for instance. She would travel to the Dordogne region in France and spend several days on a farm that raised ducks and geese for foie gras, observing the entire process, from the forced feeding to slaughter.
“As a chef,” she explained, “I need to know how to cure a leg of prosciuttoâit's an inquisitive mindâhow to cure a belly of pork to make pancetta or to make bacon, so that I understand the basics of cooking. What is it that this person in the south of France does? How do they make a jambon bayonne? I want to know how to do that. No one can tell me this. I know what it's like to force-feed a duck now. I know what it's like to kill a quail. I know what it's like to kill and clean a squab. I know what it's like to take down a full pig, to take down a full lamb. I'm not queasy about that, I can't be. Because that's the connection of working with food.”
I asked Felder if she thought great cooking was innate or could be learned.
“This is the million-dollar question,” she said, “and I get in so much trouble with this one. I believe that cooking is a craft. And it's a craft that can be taught, it's a skill that can be taught. I do not believe it's an art. I think that if you have a good positive attitude and drive and focus and have your eyes set on a goal, then you can be trained to cook. If the passion is there. You have to have that passion, because it's hard work, it's hard on your body. It's hard. It's very physical.”
The difficulty of work, I sensed, partly contributed to a macho ethic in the kitchen. And it tended to produce, as far as I could see, a fair share of lunatics. I used lunatics, I explained, in the best wayâlunacy, moonstruck.
“I do not like working in an all-female kitchen,” she said, “and I
do
not like working in an all-male kitchen. We feel like different species, we perceive the world totally, totally differently, and the beauty of that is to work in harmony, because the males are going to contribute something that only they can contribute, and the females are going to contribute something that
only they can contribute. Wow! It's outstanding! And if you have a whole male environment, it becomes a bunch of goats trying to get to the top of the mountain and kicking everybody off!”
do
not like working in an all-male kitchen. We feel like different species, we perceive the world totally, totally differently, and the beauty of that is to work in harmony, because the males are going to contribute something that only they can contribute, and the females are going to contribute something that
only they can contribute. Wow! It's outstanding! And if you have a whole male environment, it becomes a bunch of goats trying to get to the top of the mountain and kicking everybody off!”
She laughed loudly.
“I'm going through in my head and thinking about chefs I admire, and would I say it's lunacy? I would say it is. It verges on a bit of an obsession ⦠. If you have a passion for food then it's not only your life and your avocation but it's also your vocation and maybe that's the lunacy.” She smiled thoughtfully. “Yeah, it can be a little whacky.”
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e would break for the Fourth of July weekend (after an ice-carving class, picks, chisels, and chain saws ripping away in the ice-carving shed out back by the Dumpsters), and return to prepare immediately for Grand Buffet, a three-day operation. Felder's Grand Buffet philosophy combined a highly stylized main platter with casual, eccentric side platters. One team, for instance, prepared pork tenderloin pâté en croûte, turkey mousseline with smoked pork tenderloin, and a foie-gras-and-sweetbread terrine for their main platter, while grilled vegetables with a grape-leaf salsa and herbed flat bread with romescu sauceâan outstanding Spanish base sauce made from roasted tomatoes and ancho chilisâspread across their side platters. Contrived and casual, classical and modern.
e would break for the Fourth of July weekend (after an ice-carving class, picks, chisels, and chain saws ripping away in the ice-carving shed out back by the Dumpsters), and return to prepare immediately for Grand Buffet, a three-day operation. Felder's Grand Buffet philosophy combined a highly stylized main platter with casual, eccentric side platters. One team, for instance, prepared pork tenderloin pâté en croûte, turkey mousseline with smoked pork tenderloin, and a foie-gras-and-sweetbread terrine for their main platter, while grilled vegetables with a grape-leaf salsa and herbed flat bread with romescu sauceâan outstanding Spanish base sauce made from roasted tomatoes and ancho chilisâspread across their side platters. Contrived and casual, classical and modern.
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