Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Mr. Trotter Moves On

~
Last spring, I posted a quote and link to an article about one of my favorite chefs, Charlie Trotter.  Well- favorite is understating it a bit.  I can say without hesitation that I've been shaped by his artistic sensibilities, business acumen, tenacity, vision and even bravery.  The news that came this week of his plan to close his restaurant in Chicago took me off guard at first.  Yet, if you understand the man behind the apron, you had to know this was not only inevitable, but almost predestined.  Trotter, like so many of his contemporaries and mentors, is going out on top.  As a life-long scholar, the only way for a perfectionist to continue to pursue his passions is to do so unimpeded.  

It is extraordinary for a restaurant of Trotter's caliber to have lasted 25 years while continually ranking as among the most excellent in the world.  If there is any dissension about the food or service, it is only because he has raised the bar on himself.  For every foodie who is non-plused by Trotter's, you are enjoying a unique view of the food world from atop Chef Trotter's shoulders.  

After some consideration, I've decided to let the blogosphere and food pundits dissect the meaning of his decision, his contributions and where it all fits in historically.  Right now, it would feel too much like writing a eulogy.  So then, here is a re-post of that piece from last April.
 ~
I've long believed that the adage about the customer always being right was never intended for restaurants.  It is meant (and I suppose true) for the service and retail industries, instead.  The main difference here is that you are dealing with the culinary arts.  At this level of restaurant (and those like it), you are experiencing food prepared by someone who has devoted their life to educating their palette, developing their craft and creating unique meals to be shared unspoiled.  

As I have discovered over the years, those who pursue power like to exercise it to feel the full rush of what being powerful means.  Customers who like to flex that muscle and reconstruct a dish, substitute, omit and tailor a chef's menu to their liking are not, I repeat, NOT, getting what the chef intended, but some bastardized iteration that is akin to letting some unskilled orderly handle your delicate open-heart surgery.  Like giving your Mercedes to a hack mechanic and asking him to pimp it out and paint it cherry red.  Like ordering a diet coke with your breast of pheasant with morels and truffles.  There are those out there who disagree, and quickly bash chefs as egotists and inflexible snots, simply because they believe they have the right to get what they want because they're paying.  I argue that those chefs have the right not to serve you, either.  

Charlie Trotter is famous (among all his culinary and artistic skills) for being the first chef to go on record as saying that in order to perfect your product, service and brand- it's necessary to fire customers.  Get rid of those whose expectations don't meet your standards and focus on the ones who do.  At some point, the thinking goes, there will be enough customers who will give their loyalty to an establishment because of that vision, not in spite of it.  That was over 15 years ago.

A selection of amuse bouche from Trotter's September, 2000
If you care to read a bit more about Chef Trotter and his rare breed of customer service, click on the quote above that will take you to a recent article on the 51 year old chef and why he stands out (to some) as a genius and to others, a lunatic tyrant.  

Full disclosure:  I am a huge fan of Trotter's philosophy, his cooking, his books and accomplishments.  His style of cooking and commitment to excellence have shaped me and help me become the chef I am today.  I spent a week in his kitchen in September of 2000 absorbing, tasting, cooking and finally, partaking of his Grand Tasting menu.  It was, quite simply, one of the most unique experiences I've had in my career.  
The staff of Trotter's circa 2000. I am located dead center, (back) with the Cheshire grin next to my future buddy, and Top Chef Season 2 contestant, Otto Borsich.

The great artists are rarely understood in their time, and much of the article in The Times attests to that in its myopic view of Trotter as of late.  It attempts to psychoanalyze why Trotter is not in the press more or hasn't expanded his brand into multi-unit prostitution, or why he has failed in his attempts to do so.  In each of these scenarios where he tried to recreate the level of excellence of his restaurant in Chicago, there were contributing factors that didn't meet his standard of the original, and subsequently he pulled the plug.  While some call that failure, others would call it integrity.  
The copper pots that distinguish the tiny, talented kitchen.

As far as Grant Achatz is concerned, I have immense respect for him.  He is cut from the same cloth as Trotter, Ferran Adria and Thomas Keller.  Yet, I can't help thinking his publisher and/or partner pushed to create controversy to sell more books with all the volatile portions in the book dedicated to his pent up angst toward Trotter- especially now, since he appears to have "a cordial if not close relationship" with him. But then, FUCT (F*** You Charlie Trotter!, the acronym supposedly adopted by Achatz and his partner to emote his feelings about his post-Trotter's tenure) is pretty harsh, no matter how you slice it, and I believe somewhat unprecedented among chefs of such stature.  Achatz maintains it was included in the book to later draw a parallel between the two chefs and their shared commitment to perfection.  Still, the Golden Rule seems more apt among culinary professionals.  
Van Gogh's The Golden Rule
Whatever your view, I believe there can still be room for an innovative artist and an artistic innovator in the same arena. 

Saturday, December 31, 2011

Happy New Year


Farewell, 2011! 

It was another interesting year for food, celebrity cook-types, wine, The Phils and of course, music.

A VERY quick wrap of some of my 2011 favorites.  

Dinner at Amis after ONE of the blizzards in February.  Guinness Export: first time in the states since- 1940s? Dope.  Eleven Madison Park and Rotis cookbooks.  



In concert, Aimee Mann, OMD and English Beat.  On TV: Portlandia, Workaholics, and Beavis and Butthead.  


2011 Philadelphia Phillies- 102 wins, 5th consecutive NLE Championship.  And on that note, Vance Worley's pitching.  Wilson Valdez's winning pitching effort in the 19th against the Reds! What the WHAT? Cliff Lee's first major league HR.  Hunter Pence (Good Game! Let's Go Eat!).  And following it all on Twitter was pretty fun, too.  

Beer got more delicious.  Produce got more local.  Good cheese became more available.  In addition to my 4 year old's penchant for seaweed, olives, bacon, salmon, and soba, we added shrimp and octopus!  Three or four dozen delicious Sunday dinners at M&D's (right?).  

The Chef's Table revival at the UWC.  Shigoku oysters from the West Coast (holy mother of God- over the top).  Foie gras and shrimp toast together in one dish.  Scallop dumpling and squab consomme.  Amazing locally foraged mushrooms- and monstrous porcini from Oregon. Kabocha squash (don't know how I missed this).  Barely Buzzed coffee-rubbed cheddar from Bee-Hive Cheese Co.  And, home-made Orange Grappa from Italy.  





Domestic sparkling from Argyle in Oregon and Gruet in New Mexico.  Robert Stemmler Pinot Noir, Estate.  Merry Edwards Sauvignon Blanc. Mission Estate Pinot Noir.  Barricadiero, carried all the way back from Italy (MiMi!).  Just about every wine I drank from Moore Brothers, especially the wines from Mas Amiel.  

Gabrielle Hamilton's Blood, Bones and Butter and the return of non-fussy food. Amazon's Cloud Player and Kindle App. for the Android.  

I caved in and for the first time watched episodes of Top Chef: Texas and Harry Potter.  I liked both.  

To anyone I cooked with, ate with or drank with in 2011, I'm looking forward to lots more in 2012.


Friday, December 16, 2011

Happy Christmas: War is Over



   
"Sweet Bird of Truth"  Matt Johnson of The The, 1987


(Spoken) Flight leader, this is "Combat" your forward end controller
I have three targets for you
Your first target is a blockhouse, target number 11 at the north-east corner of the combat zone, request: Napalm
Rodger, flight leader, the identity of your request is, eh, batch of Napalm on the blockhouse in the north-east corner of the target area
Flight leader, understand, 30 seconds
White flag, this is "Combat", we have you in sight
Roll on to the west, call to confirm you have target area, a'ight

Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia
Six o'clock in the morning and I'm the last person in this plane still awake
Y'know I can almost smell the blood washing against the shores of this land that can't forget it's past
Oh the wind that carries this plane is the wind of change, heaven sent and hell bent
Over the mountain tops we go, just like all the other GI Joe's, adios
This is your captain calling (With an urgent warning), we're above the gulf of Arabia (Our altitude is falling)
And I can't hold her up (There's no time for thinking), all hands on deck (This bird is sinking)
Across the beaches and cranes, rivers and trains, all the money I've made, bodies I've maimed
Time was when I seemed to know, just like any other GI Joe
Should I cry like a baby, or die like a man while all the planets little wars start joining hands?
Oh what a heaven, what a hell, y'know there's nothing could be done in this whole wide world

Arabia

I don't know what's wrong or right, I'm just a regular guy with bottled up insides
I ain't ever been to church or believed in Jesus Christ but I'm praying that gods with you when you die
This is your captain calling (With an urgent warning), we're above the gulf of Arabia (Our altitude is falling)
And I can't hold her up (There's no time for thinking), all hands on deck (This bird is sinking)
Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia


Iraq War~ 2003-2011 

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Chef Quote of the Week: Roy Choi

“It’s like when you get stoned, sometimes things go into different worlds and fabrics and textures. It’s a little crispy, then it’s spicy and warm and soothing. It helps me bring in a whole pantry of ingredients that as a chef I may have considered not good enough. Using [classical] techniques but then balancing it with straight French’s yellow mustard, or bringing in some ghettos--- that you pull from your cupboard.”  Chef Roy Choi 
On inspiration (ahem) and where he gets his~

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

F&C Rewind: Just Like Honey

 Today, the NYTimes posted this piece about those in America who have shunned Facebook.  I was instantly reminded of my short stint with FB- and how it most resembled an unsuccessful experiment with drugs.  Whether you're on Facebook, kicked the habit or are still thinking about it, I offer this repost of what it was like. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Is the world fundamentally a better place because of science and technology? We shop at home, we surf the web, at the same time, we feel emptier, lonelier and more cut off from each other than at any other time in human history.” from the novel (and film) "Contact" by Carl Sagan

Late last night, when I deleted my Facebook account, the captcha (random confirmation) words were "truffles out".  I kid you not.  If ever there were a sign from the cosmos, this was it.  I had to stare at it for a few minutes, completely amused and somewhat mystified.

I suppose I was asking for it.  I so resisted joining the "collective", only because I truly didn't miss what I didn't have.  My friends told me it would be a great way to promote my blog.  It seemed like the right thing to do; for an egotist.  As a reader of Ayn Rand, I didn't mind the "ego" part.  I had a lot to say, and I wanted to share my passion and love for all things food, wine, beer and creative thoughts alike.

But, something crept in.  Not what I expected.  It wasn't an addiction, as I know it.  It wasn't a fad.  It wasn't even vanity.  Ok- maybe a little.  But, ultimately, it was a trap.  I began to think that the only way people would listen to me, appreciate me, notice me- was through Facebook.  It makes me feel a little ashamed, now.  Posting on FB is supposed to be like stepping into a virtual town square and screaming, "HEY! Check out what I'm thinking!  'Listen' to this!  'Watch' that, 'join' us!  But, in reality, it was more like doing stand-up at an open mic, unable to see if anyone is in front of you listening, yawning or sleeping.  You long for a "like" or emoticon of approval. 
It began with the naive thinking that sooner or later we were all destined to become a part of the hive.  But, when I began to search for the people I knew had consciously avoided joining and then failed in finding them, I was silently jealous. 

Since creating an account last September, I've read some of the most interesting viewpoints on FB, and been exposed to some of the most idiotic and ignorant rants at the same time.  I met some wonderful new people and introduced some people to each other.  I've laughed my ass off at some of the most ridiculous videos and comments.  And, when there was nothing interesting going on in my real life, I surfed other peoples comments, profiles, photos- but, that's the whole point, right?  So, why then did it feel so unsavory?  When did it go from being fun to feeling dirty?  It was like being stuck in the mall, but without the fountains and Cinnabon.

It was a tremendous platform for advocacy.  And lunacy.  There were 1.7 million people who "liked" the prayer for Obama to Die, yet only 800,000 (at my last check) to petition FB to remove the page for its blatant racist and hateful bent.  My most memorable experience was watching a particular page climb in membership from 750,000 fans to just over 1 million in less than a half hour!  Each time you hit refresh, it would climb exponentially.  The page was about as harmless and vacuous as you can imagine:  "If I can get 1 million fans, my sister said she will name her baby 'Megatron'".  The site now has 1.7 million "fans".  The baby, a boy, is due in August.   

People would cut and paste "status" updates that advocated awareness for anything from special education and autism, to spousal abuse, human rights and cancer.  It was the platform for me to create my very own page condemning the anti-immigration law recently passed in Arizona.  It raised awareness for approximately 70 people who joined.  I posted information and updates daily from articles and websites both conservative and liberal, mainstream and private, ethnic, domestic and foreign.  I learned a lot on the subject and still feel strongly about my views.  But, it was a bit like preaching to the choir.  I knew the people who joined the page were intelligent, compassionate people who had a firm grasp on morality and altruism.  So, who was I hoping to convert?  The person who would rather feed their virtual guppie than discover the US Constitution being flouted daily?  Not gonna happen.

To connect with others in my field, it was about as ideal as it could get.  Chefs work a lot.  To be able to share ideas, photos, specials, inside jokes, and gripes while at work or after a shift, was the ideal.  And in many cases, I found myself visiting their establishments to say "hello" in person and eat their marvelous creations, drink their spirits.  And I'll continue to do so.

I hated high school.  It was never a secret.  So when I found so many people coming out of the creases of the internet to be FB friends, I did so with caution. Why would these people want to know about my life after all these years?  Did I really want to know about theirs?  Let's just say that the most ironic part of friending former classmates was that of the 50 or 60 I reconnected with, I found that the same 7 or 8 people I regularly hung out with and genuinely enjoyed being with in school were the same 7 or 8 I shared regular conversations, jokes, stories and photos with on Facebook.  I will miss the sarcastic and subversive posts of my friend Steve.  Picking up with our friendship in the last six months was like we had never stopped.  Yet, we've already decided to get together (with a "new" chef friend, no less!) and reminisce over some good food and cold beer.  I'll miss occasional updates from my former art teacher, though it goes without saying that we'll stay in touch through emails and possibly even visits.  My buddy and pal, Penny, and I have already met up and shot the breeze, and I've no reason to doubt we will again, after so many years, some shit is still funny!

But, despite the boundless nature of FB, the ability to connect with people from all around the world felt the same as connecting with someone I just saw an hour ago at work.  It became soulless.  The fact that most recent comments, messages or posts of interest were electronically whisked right into my pocket made it even less interesting.  Normally, I'd be bowled over to see photos of food from the former sous chef I worked for in France; but, something got lost in translation (and it wasn't the French).  At times I would sit and stare at the screen the same way Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson would look out their hotel window in the movie of the same name.  With millions of people zipping about in a city that never seems to come down from a neon buzz, it was about as exciting for them as watching a lava lamp.  Sober.

Keeping up on how the business of Facebook was evolving and how it was slowly, incrementally implementing their mission statement to make the business of information gathering profitable became a daily exercise for me.  I tried to believe that I had the right to my privacy, when at the same time there were approximately 270 people I was sharing my morning breakfast with and digital moods.  My sister sent me an email about a site called Spokeo.  She explained that just by typing in your name, email address or phone number, all the information that you thought was secure on websites like Amazon, Facebook, blogs, message boards that require sign-in or memberships- it's all available for anyone to view online.  For only $2.95 a month, you could get a membership for a year that gave you full access to the personal information of just about anyone who has ever used a computer.  And in some cases, there is information that is shared from sites that aren't even online (census).

The business model for Spokeo isn't so much to get people to buy access to other people's information.  Oh no- that's so 1990's.  When people see that someone is pimping their personal and private information online, the immediate response is not "who got it and how did they get it?", it's "how do I get it OFF this site??".  And lo and behold, what does Spokeo offer just below the memberships that legalize identity theft??  A product by Reputation Defender called MyPrivacy.
"Delete private information from Spokeo, Peoplefinders, People Search and other online databases using My Privacy."  
Talk about good cop, bad cop?!?  You can also go to the bottom of that same page and delete yourself from Spokeo for FREE.  Just carefully follow the directions.  If you still can't do it, Google "how to...".

I suppose I was really never pushed over the edge by something like Spokeo or that someone could get or would want my credit score.  I mean, really?  But, having considered deleting my account and even threatening to do so a few times on FB (an empty threat if ever there was one), it seemed the right time to end the Facebook Experiment.  It only required my FB password and typing the randomized phrase "truffles out". *delete*

And then, there was a virtual silence.  A great, glorious silence so golden, it was if all the engines of every car on the information super-highway had stalled, coming to a screeching halt and then- were silenced forever.  I stepped away from the computer in the most confident and contented way, toward the front door and walked out into the Spring night.  I stopped and took the deepest breath- and then exhaled.  And, then I smiled.

I was Bill Murray coming out of the elevator of the hotel and walking into the crowded streets of Tokyo.  Hitting "delete" was like chasing Scarlett in that last moment before he might never see her again, and in that instant- as if on cue- I could hear in my head the echoing snare drums and the impudent reverberating guitar from the opening bars of the Jesus and Mary Chain's "Just Like Honey" as the credits rolled:

"Listen to the girl
As she takes on half the world
Moving up and so alive
In her honey dripping beehive
Beehive
It's good, so good, it's so good
So good"

LinkWithin

Related Posts with Thumbnails