Pais Vasco

Hello all.

I am writing from the upstairs office of Mugaritz, from where I have just arrived. I spent last evening in Donostia-San Sebastian, a city I think all could benefit from an experience in. It is a small port community not dissimilar to a Provincetown or a Gloucester, an eclectic mix of personalities that is dormant for a portion of the year (namely, this portion) and alive with tourism in the summer.

My barely existent management of the Spanish language was able to attain me board in a pension for the evening, and navigation through some of the cities tapas bars. Standing six-feet tall, with red hair, pale skin (freckles to boot), and the stench of an overnight globetrotting mission was not the best way to not stick out, but whatever.

I followed the great dossier passed onto me from a friend of chef’s in Boston named Zarmik, which cut right to the guts of the city and got me pointed in all of the right directions. On calle Agosto 31, I was able to get into Bar Martinez, one of the more popular tapas spots in the city. So, after conking out around eight, well before the city came to life, but early enough to breeze around with some of the old timers and fishermen, I awoke early, chatted with the operator of my pension and arranged a cab to get me up here, way up here I should mention.

After a 20-minute cab ride through what one would affectionately call the foothills (some might disdain as Appalachian-like) I got here. Of course, this morning is the down day for the restaurant (read: the hangover), and I have tried to stay out of everyone’s hair but is difficult because, here I am, sitting on the side of a rainy mountain, ready to go.

Anyway. It’s beautiful up here. It smells of the asador, or true wood-fired grill, probably the most inviting aroma I have ever smelled. It screams of warmth, welcoming and comfort across the pastures. There’s a one lane road to get up here, which means when the dumptruck is stopped in front of you to pick up trash, you wait the 15 minutes it takes for him to pick up his payload, and get a few hundred meters up the road to an alcove to let you pass. Sheep everywhere too, kind of an emotional terroir linkage to the Idiazabal cheese that I’ve been enjoying for all of these years.

UPDATE:

I have now been assigned to an apartment in Astigarraga! Its very college-like living, 12 people in a six-room apartment, bunk beds, two bathrooms and packed closets. But to be honest, its very homey, and we are all here for pretty much the same reason so its actually quite comforting. There is another guy who started here today from Guatemala, and in addition to him as a roommate, there is a cool kid from Sweden and a laid back guy from Holland. Its quite a motley crew here, but its clean, people seem to be very agreeable with each other. A five-minute walk will get you to the heart of town, a tiny supermarket, and all of the things you could need for your time here. Additionally, did I forget to mention that Astigarraga is the home of that irresistible cidra?

Its going to be a good few months…living on a shoestring, being a part of something incredible and learning to live in a culture and part of the world that is distinctly different than mine.

Take-Offs and Landings

The journey, is the reward. So literal and metaphoric words have never resonated with me so well in my life. As I pass the last few moments here on my yankee homeland, and watch as my bags get loaded aboard that giant tube which promises to transport me safely to a new world, a new culture, and albeit temporarily, a new life, I am sitting here reflecting on the five W’s (and one H, you know, Who, What, When, Where, Why, How) that have led me to this moment.

In school they tell us that those are the paramount elements of success in a truly great story. That, a dynamic protagonist and an interesting storyline, and you’ve got yourself a winner, or at the very least, something that maybe a few of your closest friends will pick up, skim through and bullshit with you about. I was never confident enough in my skills as a writer, an orator, or raconteur to ever have considered a career in literature. I did, however, posses an insatiable curiosity for adventure, an explorative inclination, and the mindset to try to see the world from as many angles, and through as many eyes as I could before I meet my inevitable end. That, for better or worse, beckoned my down a very different path.

Maybe I’m just naïve enough to make the stupidest mistakes ever, and credit them to myself as tremendous learning experiences. Maybe I missed some key stage in my development when a sense of reason begins to assess risk and reward, and during which we begin to live our lives with an element of conservation. Needless to say, what ever the fuck happened there, here I sit alone in an airport terminal about to go half way around the world to work in one of the most challenging environments I could have ever finagled my way into, where I will know almost nobody, speak barely a distinguishable modicum of their native tongue, and hope to be accepted as the goofy kid from the states whose probably sticks out just a little too much.

I prepared for this. I read the readings. I followed the blogs. I contacted the contacts. I studied, and studied, and studied. I did all of the prerequisites possible, knowing full well, that nothing counted more than standing up to the fire, and being cognizant of the intensity and pressure about to be leveraged on me. I am scared shitless.

But this journey has come at a price and will prove to be a pivotal moment in my life. I never led onto how much I had sacrificed for this experience to all of the players involved, but now standing back and evaluating those decisions, I am quite shocked that I had the balls to go through with everything. I sold the greater sum of all of my personal belongings. I gave up a great job; one where I was happy, making enough money to cover the bills, and developing a sense of respect from colleagues and constituents. I gave up my ‘cozy’ metropolitan apartment and along with that sense of neighborhoodness that I had become extremely proud of. I said by to all of my closest friends, family, and even as of relatively recently, a ‘girlfriend’. On all fronts, I said my thanks, cashed in my chips, packed my bags, and bet the house on this: a six month unpaid stage in arguably one of the best restaurants on the face of the earth, where I would be living barely domesticated, working almost perpetually, and trying to discover the glory that only can be had by such a raw experience.

I don’t know the outcome of this. I’m not sure what the next chapter in this book is. But I’ll tell you what, if I was the reader, I’d turn at least one more page. Couldn’t hurt right? Maybe an adventure will ensue…we’ll see…

gkc

nov 2009

5 weeks left in Boston.

Life has been the roller coaster we've all come to anticipate but not nearly predict, timing being every virtue and curse that I've ever known. My preoccupation with moving (both back home briefly, then to Spain), wrapping up my commitments with work (which is busier than ever), and trying to survive we're all thrown into a tailspin with the news a few weeks ago that my Dad was diagnosed with Prostate Cancer and was having rather quick surgery to remove his tumor. I immediately began to reevaluate my priorities, and subsequently to make some changes in my life. Call it an epiphany, but I began to structure my life more, highlight the things I value, and then, clean the clutter and debris from my life. Its not that things were a mess, its just that I began to look at the things I really needed, and realized how much I could happily live without.

So Spain has been sitting front and center on my mind here for the past few weeks and months, and I am ever so eagerly anticipating heading abroad to be, even if a very small part, involved with something so magical and spectacular. I have been working on my Spanish, though, without really being tested and immersed, I am sure that will be one of my great challenges. Clearly the level of technique and cuisine will also be challenging, too. But I am most looking forward to is living in a group with a different mentality, even if just for a short while, with people who eat, sleep, and breath their craft, and who share the common belief that this is a life and craft.

The happiness I feel right now as being a young cook is unparalleled to anything I have ever felt in my life. So, I want to write down here a (hopefully) brief synopsis of where my dream restaurant has evolved to as of right now. Hopefully this will act as a benchmark for myself, and possibly a compilation of the scribblings, notes, dog-eared magazines, pictures, general musings and ideas that have kept my mind working overtime.

The name would be cobalt. People have varying opinions about the importance of naming things, such as restaurants. I think its tremendously important and should have meaning. Cobalt is my favorite color, and its the color of the blue aprons worn in great restaurants around the world (their symbolism, possibly best summed up on the per se website, is of a constant commitment, learning, growing and evolution, and acknowledgment that this, cooking, is a craft and we are merely part of the passing down and refining of these skills). The back story of cobalt as an element is fascinating, and I can only encourage you to read on about it without boring the majority of the people who read this blog (i.e. both of you). Cobalt is like the offal of minerals, generally discovered as a by-catch if you will of Copper and Nickel (both important elements in their own right to the kitchen, mind you). Additionally, cobalt makes up a very small percentage of Vitamin b12, one of the most important nutrients to all organisms.

So past that point, what kind of restaurant would it be? I want to follow the few who are bucking the trends and opening up gastronomically ambitious but casual restaurants. My modus operandi would be something similar to Momofuku Ssam Bar in New York City, a place where I have had the best dining experiences in my life. The freestyle service, the music, the communal arrangement, the casual discord of the service, the general approachability and affordability, and most of all the greatness and integrity in the food. These are all things that I value. I spent the other day perusing an unedited copy of the forthcoming Momofuku Cookbook, and found the format, the content and the prose as impactful as The French Laundry Cookbook. Its becoming clearer to me that these are the restaurants of the future and of the times (which, for all intents and purposes, I think will include our entire lifetimes).

So, back to cobalt. I really like many of the design elements and models we go by at Toro: long banquets, communal tables, bar seating that actually suffices for eating, backless stools, clothnapkin wrapped silversets, stemless glassware. There are things I liked elsewhere too! I kind of liked the semi-open/closed kitchen at Ssam and the bathrooms at WD50. I know your thinking, why does he give a shit about all of this stuff before the food? Good food is absolutely irreplaceable at a good restaurant, but the peripherals are how you evoke its soul/sex appeal/attraction. I want to do dinner only, and only 6 nights a week with brunch on Sunday (closed tuesdays). I know to a seasoned business person this sounds ludicrous, but Im in it for the long haul, and I want to be absent from as few services as humanly possible.

My main mentality behind the food is I want it to have integrity and taste good. The menu would have alot of options, dishes varying in size from small bites to medium (dare I say tapas sized) to full compositions, to things that can be shared. No one thing is guaranteed a home on the menu, if its simply not in season, not able to be produced with in our price point, not popular enough or, generally speaking, not something enough, we will do away with it, or do away with it temporarily. It forces us to change, but change is what keep things moving and not let a restaurant become static. I want to use alot of whole animals, whole fish, whole vegetables (you know radish greens and carrot tops can be put to use)...Some of the food can have composition, some of it should simply be what it is (a green salad to me is delicious, seasoned, nesting ball of greens, not something assembled with tweezers).

I want to have a dessert program too, even if its limited to only 3 or 4 things, I love dessert. Native Cheese, too, with interesting accompaniments.

I am not going to go overboard with the post-modern technique, but I really think some of these additives and techniques can enhance already beautiful products, which is my end goal at any rate. Fennel cooked sous-vide is one of my favorite things ever. Terrines made this way are free of air pockets. Using agar to thicken honey means you can put little dots of it where youd like to add complexity to a dish, in its liquid state it is difficult to deal with. Xanthum gum can thicken pure green vegetable juices and other sauces without needing to substantially cook them to alter their consistency (and thereby also their taste). We can use these tools to make great food better, and not have to be mad scientists out to try to overmanipulate your food.

Thats where its at now. In moving I came across many hundreds of little notes and ruminations I've written down, some of them as complete dishes, some just ideas and some simply just observations. Now I am going to start honing in on what really makes any of this interesting or worthy.

Till soon, Im going to keep shuffling the pans at Toro.
cheers world,
greg k-c

Everyone is reconceptualizing...so I am too..what do I want to sound like on this unrestricted medium? do I even want to be heard? I'll check back soon (hopefully)...

The days and weeks are moving forward, waiting for no one. As I have become increasingly interested in cycles, such as the seasonal cycle of foods and the general cyclical patterns which I have tried to install in my life, I have also become more and more aware that in any regards that this will be the last time I get to experience some of the things I take for granted, as I travel abroad. For example, asparagus, morel, fava season. There is a strong chance that I wont get to see this again for a while, and next time I do, Im going to be a different cook/person, just like Im a different cook/person than I was 2 years ago. Its weird. And it goes on to. Think about Baseball and holidays and other things that you just expect to come with the changing times. Its weird, and it weighs on me alot.

Also in preparation for my journey, I have been trying to tie up some loose ends in my life, and make sure that my focus while abroad can be on the enriching experience. Some nights I have come home and scribbled all kinds of nonesense in my yellow legal pads that has included but is not limited to: Logistics for my dream restaurant, my dream team, a living will and testament, a compilation of thoughts and mantras which I feel strongly about, doodles, musings about food (a common theme lately has been veggie and fish centric dishes), designs and ideas that I want to see come to fruition in restaurant life. Some times its a challenge to settle myself, and realize that Im only 24; the young cook and the perpetual skeptical thinker duel to the death some days.

But the dream is still happening. I think about building on the skills I am already using, the format and styling of restaurants that I am already familiar with. I want to open a place where very high quality and informality can peacefully coexist (come to think about that, I like that name)...Ive given alot of thought to a predominantly domestic wine, spirit and non-alcoholic beverage program. I want to use alot of seasonal veggies, local seafood and humanly raised proteins. People who are unfamiliar with restaurants and professionaly cooking are always curious what kinds of foods we like to cook or what kind of restaurants we work in. I want to have a new american restaurant. The world of cuisine and technique is an incestuous one, but as such, there still seems to be a disperity in the food world with regards to America's contribution. I guess if theres one thing to be proud of it where we come from, right?

Heres some pics from an adventure my buddies Ian, Kathryn and I took to Eva's Garden in South Dartmouth, Ma. Anyone who has ever worked in a halfway decent restaurant in New England has heard of Eva, she grows all of our beautiful herbs, flowers, veggies, fruits, etc.

Hello Green Veggies!

I had been thinking about something to say here, something about the struggles, triumphs, tribulations, quagmires and great success (Borat voice) that have been my day to day life for the past few weeks, but I've become keenly aware of something. Saying things and doing things rarely happen simultaneously. I've never considered myself quiet, and to that end, I'd go so far as to say that I've been outspoken at points and junctures in my life, but I'm trying to change my paradigm. I've been giving alot of thought as to what life in Spain is going to be like, and how hard it is going to be not only in terms of work but in terms of living.

I've been working quieter, harder, faster, and more aware than I have ever before. Im trying to gear myself for the kitchen over in Spain. I know to take the most away from my experience I will need to relearn the scientific method of problem solving. So the last few weeks have really been a personal internal test of trying to get myself to work quieter, more efficient, better, stronger, faster and block out the clamor and static of the job. Focus, focus, focus.

The drudgery of winter appears to be past us, and spring veggies are in full blossom. Green garlic, ramps, spring onions, asparagus, local chives, lots of green things. I can't stress how nice it is as a cook to see green things after a winter of root vegetables, braises, legumes, stews and the occasional roasted beet. By far the most interesting thing about my life and job is the beautiful product. Im constantly inspired about what can be done with all of these goodies, and to that extent I have been reading up alot about different techniques.

I staged a few weeks back at Corton in New York City, and had the pleasure of working with one of my truly good friends Jon Black on what is arguably the hardest station in that kitchen, entremet. He picks up a dish called simply 'the garden', something akin to Michel Bras' Gargouillou...3 purees, 18 #9 pans of mise-en-plas, several dehydrated vegetables, etc. Its enough to keep the kid really busy, but let me tell you, it is one of the most amazing things you've ever seen. It only took one night to see the possibilities of very simple and humble ingredients.



But on that note, the veggies are rolling in, and there is alot more I'd rather be doing than I'd rather be saying. Keep your eyes peeled for pics from a Calcotada that we are throwing at the restaurant here in a few weeks!

gkc

Meals of a Lifetime

Im going to preface this post with a little quick story. Last January, I came back from France. I was poor, heartbroken and lost after the trauma of being robbed in Alsace. I had little direction but knew that I needed to do something drastic. I googled every city across America (and several parts of the world for that matter) with a thriving food-scene, and restaurants that interested me. I prepared a resume, cover letters, and crossed my fingers that hopefully somebody would have room for a lanky greenhorn outta cooking school. I was choosy, and I got a few responses, but one intrigued me most, and that was from Tony Maws at Craigie Street Bistrot in Cambridge, Ma.. Id heard of his restaurant before from my chefs on extern, and upon some further research, I fell in love with what he was doing in this tiny apartment complex restaurant outside of Harvard University. I'd never met the guy, eaten his food or even shared a word with him, but I was stoked.

I got an email back from Chef, and literally before I knew it, I was on Craigie's doorstep one cold Saturday morning, to stage for a day. It was a mildly busy night and everybudy was buzzing about as I played the wallflower during prep and tried to see what was going on without sticking my nose in too much. I cooked staff meal and overall had a great time. At the end of the night, Chef sat me down at a table right outside of the tiny kitchen in the tiny dining room and fed me. After he finished up the last few tables we chatted, and he sent me on my way. I was sure that I had flubbed the stage at some point, and went 'home' with the mindset that I had learned and seen some pretty cool stuff that day and had met some cool people. I knew I needed to find a job soon and I had pretty much told myself that I wanted to come to Boston...

The next morning I woke up to an email from Chef Maws, telling me that if I was interested in a second stage and possibly a position, that I could follow up with him. I did, and about a week later, I staged again, and found myself in the CSB kitchen. I think the second stage cemented it for me, if he was going to offer me something, I was going to snatch it up. After this night, he sat me down again and told me that there was really no opening currently in his kitchen, but that an opening would be available in a few weeks. He said that if I could hold out, I could have it. I went home, with this question on my plate, and after some serious consideration decided that this was where I needed to be.

Over the coming weeks, Chef set me up to do some 'handyman' work around the restaurant and at his mothers home so I could earn a little living before I would settle into the kitchen at CSB. Finally, the day came when I started in the kitchen. It was so crazy. The food was incomparably good to anything I had ever had before. The technique, refinement and discipline was so awesome. I remember doing premeal meetings in the laundry room of the apartment complex, when the residents would come into throw their laundry into the driers as we would go over our final approach plans and buckle down for service.

I was at Craigie until May. I had things going on in my family and I had things going on in my personal life, but I summed up in my head that I wasn't where I should be, and told chef that I was planning to leave. Maybe I had bitten off more than I could chew; maybe I had just taken things too seriously or misinterpreted signs; or maybe (likely) I was just a naive kid who was way out of his comfort zone and had no precedent for where in his life he was. Never-the-less, I was on the CSB ship, and I was now about to depart into the unknown.

I left Craigie, and went home. I'd lost 15 pounds in my few months at the restaurant, and proceeded to loose another 10 at home. I was bi-polar, manic, and on edge, and in retrospect a total head case for my family to deal with as they tried to handle their other crises. I wrote alot, I talked to my mentors at school, and I just tried to find some footing. Where had I gone wrong? After talking with some of my teachers at school, I headed back to Boston, where merely by fortune I found myself staging at Toro, and by luck, had caught them on the week when one of their cooks had left. After staging there, along with a few other interesting places, I took the job. I was excited, I was challenged again, but I knew that I had learned alot at CSB, even in only a few months. One of the lessons I had learned was survivalism; this was my second chance, one not too many get, and I was going to make it. I learned that alot of the technique I had learned at CSB would make me an asset at Toro. I learned that kitchens change, but standards don't.

My story leads me to this. I've wandered over the bridge to Cambridge a few times over the past few months, and honestly, Ive always made it my plan to swing my CSB. Maybe I would just walk by and see the menu (which changes every day) and hear the clang of the pots from the kitchen, maybe I'd poke in and say hi, and on the rare occaison, if I had the time and money, I'd stop in for a bite. Last week, I stopped in. I will write this here, because its true: CSB puts out food on or above par with the best restaurants in the world (trust me on this). I don't know what stars aligned on this day for me to decide to step inside of the CSB world and enjoy a meal on this night, god knows I was far under dressed in comparison to the rest of the crowd, but I said fuck it and went for it. Chef came out and said hi, and after some thought I decided to populate the ever busy chefs/waiting/cafe table outside of the kitchen and enjoy some bites. I ordered soft-shelled crab and sweetbreads, two dishes that I know are laborious for the CSB cooks, but are unparalleled flavor and technique wise. I ordered a side of bone marrow as well. What came out was some of the best food I have ever ingested. The soft-shell crab was above and beyond the best I'd ever had. The sweetbreads were as simple and as complex as anything I'd remembered in the CSB repertoire; and lets just say that there was enough bone marrow to make Fergus Henderson and Anthony Bourdain blush...I finished up, settled my tab and said good-bye, and looked around as the restaurant was filling up; a whole dining room of guests was about to be in for the moving experience I had just had, and for a few months I had been a part of creating...

In the coming months, CSB is going to close and move over to Main St. in Cambridge, a move that is sure to draw major publicity and with any hope further establish that there is magic going on here. I wrote this entry because CSB has had a major impact on me as a young cook and more importantly as a young man (which I still very much am). I have always wondered how I could show my appreciation to Tony Maws for what he showed me during my time there, but I keep settling on this, just talk about the food.

Here are some pics from my latest meal at CSB. I hope I get to come back before they leave for what is sure to be a seismic change.



The Menu



Soft-Shelled Crabs (snacked on before I could photograph)


My Sweetbreads


A "side" of Bone Marrow


Mission Bone Marrow: Accomplished