Engulfed by Fire

When I began my journey here at Mugaritz in November, I had no clue what to expect. One thing can be certain though, I never would have expected anything even remotely close to the event on the morning of February 15th. As you probably know, fire destroyed the kitchens of Mugaritz in the early morning hours. Early indications are an electrical short, or malfunction, sparked the initial blaze in a remote corner of the kitchen. This is the account I made in a journal the night of the fire:

@2:15 am on February 15th, 2010 we were awoken by the sounds of screaming basque policemen running through our house with flashlights, and the smoldering aroma of burning wood and plastic. A fierce inferno had broken out in the back section of the Mugaritz primary service kitchen. Only a forced entry alarm had been tripped on the back door, thus explaining the initial response of armed police officers and not firefighters. Still in our pajamas and shorts we were hustled to the road on which the restaurant sits, myself, Rodrigo and Leonardo from Portugal first, only to discover flames vaulting from the area of the kitchen where the woodfired grill would be situated. As we congregated on the street, Luis the gentle old man who lives peacefully next door in an annexed farmhouse was summoned to the street. His initial fear and shock turned to immediate horror when he realized that the summoning forces were not fire fighters, but rather police officers. BOMBEROS? DONDESTA BOMBEROS? Where are the firefighters he screamed as he watched the flames lick closer and closer to his own home, essentially a tinderbox with a woodpile abutted right next to the back kitchen entrance of the restaurant.

Dani Lasa, speechless, came rushing up the road, ditching his car near the drainage path across the restaurants driveway. Helplessly standing next to us, Dani, the answerman/chef/ extraordinaire, watched in shock as the fire burned so hot you could feel it from over a hundred feet away on a winter night.

After 10 minutes or so the Fire fighters came and immediately dispersed. Another five or ten later (nobody was counting time at a time like this) Andoni incredulously pulled up to the restaurant. He too, in absolute shock and powerless, asked us "Todo estais afuera" "Todo estais bien"; "Everyone out?" "Everyone okay?" Then, in almost typical Andoni fashion, he apologized for it being so cold outside.

All we could do is wait and watch. None of us had any clue about the severity of the fire, but the first indication was when Andoni disappeared with the firefighters and returned, pale in the face, and absolutely destroyed. "No hay restaurante por dos meses"; "There is no restaurant for at least two-months".

Those of us in the apartment above the restaurant, and the farmer next door for that matter, had someone looking over us on this evening. There was no question that on that night, we had all cheated death. Upon further inspection the next morning it was determined that fire had begun to develop in the exhaust ducts which ran under the stairway leading up to our apartment. I cant even say anymore without cringing at the thought.

This is the dining room destroyed by smoke.

This photo is from my first week, you can see the roof to the kitchen in tact behind us...

...incontrast to the scorched remains here.

A look into what used to be the back entrance of the kitchen.

The gastro-vac, which just hours before was cleaned "impeccable" by yours truly.

The was the "cuarto frio" or cold prep room.

The next morning we met early with Llorenc, the culinary director, and discussed the circumstances surrounding the fire and what not. As to be expected, we were told not to talk with the media or make any big immediate announcements on the internet or such, and sure enough, not 10 minutes after we were done with our meeting, there were photographers, news cameras and reporters swarming around the restaurant and our apartment. Also confirmed in the meeting was one of my worst fears, that the "cuarto frio" or cold production kitchen had been destroyed completely. It was here that I had left my one personal belonging in the restaurant, my treasured knives in a cubby reserved for stagiers.

That evening, we were summonsed to a meeting with Andoni in the lodge, a separate reception house next to the restaurant, where we were told that due to the circumstances, we were free from the commitments of our internships, and that there was a great deal of uncertainty as to how long it would take to get the restaurant back open. Offers were made to try to get us into other restaurants in the area or make phone calls to try to connect stages with restaurants outside of Pais Vasco, and Spain altogether for that matter.

I was a different circumstance all together, as I was exactly at the halfway point of my stage, and could not afford to resume a stagier position at a restaurant that wouldn't provide housing. It became clear pretty quick that my options were few, and that once again, I had struck bad luck in Europe (see my trip in France 07 for that debacle).

So now, as of today, Saturday, I am packed and leaving Spain. On Monday I am headed to Paris for a few days to try to salvage a little bit of time here before I leave from Charles de Gaulle next Saturday.

What remains of the knife cubby as captured by a demolition worker. If you look closely at the center of the photo, you can see what remains of my beloved white handled Nenox knife.

One thing I absolutely must write about here is the unprecedented amount of support, kind words, and offers for help that have come from barely acquaintances to complete strangers in wake of the fire this week. I always knew that people who did anything in the food world were a different breed, but this past week, I had arms reached out to me that I NEVER would have imagined and from people who I sincerely look up to and idolize. It is with that in mind that I want to thank a few of them. Jeremy Fox, from Ubuntu Restaurant in Napa California, chatted with me briefly on Monday evening. Within a few hours he had set a brushfire across the US it seemed and I was getting emails of support from chefs and industry folk whose name you can write backwards. On Wednesday, John Sconzo (of docsconz.typepad.com fame) put out a similar call on his blog and facebook page, which led me to the introduction of Chad Ward, the guy who wrote the book on kitchen cutlery, who is on the lookout for some possible replacements for my knives. Then, as if I couldn't be any more humbled, a young chef-blogger from the UK named Aiden Brooks, who had also done some time in Spanish kitchens, contacted me with his father, Mike Green, about setting up a fund to help all of the stagiers who had lost their precious knives in the fire. I have no clue how to go about thanking you or repaying you or expressing what you have all done for all of us.

In addition to all of the external support, kudos go out to Andoni, Dani Lasa, Rafa Costa e Silva, Llorenc Sagarra, Yaiza Ruiz and the whole internal staff here. In the wake of this, they had a tremendous amount of personal responsibility thrust upon them, but they never hesitated to make time for us, and go above and beyond to try to accommodate us elsewhere. They are all truly great people, and examples why this little farmhouse half-way around the world is worth the journey to. Thank you again, and again, and again.

The events of this week have changed all of our lives here, made us closer brothers and sisters, and have shown that even in a well oiled machine that is a Michelin 2 star restaurant, there is a point when we are just humans, who need a hug, and who are as vulnerable as the next guy. Rebuilding and restarting are arduous and difficult tasks. On Monday in that little cabin, it became clear that we were all in the same boat, and we were all swimming upstream.

On our last night together, we finally made it to a Sideria, to celebrate our last night together as the Mugaritz 09-10 family.

As for me...I haven't closed the book on Mugaritz yet. I would like to come back someday, possibly in a year or so, to complete my stage. It wasn't easy, and it tested my capacity and boundaries, but I loved it here, or rather, I still do love it here. I'm not ending this story with a period, only an ellipsis, because there are still chapters to be written...

Eskerrik Kasko,

Thanks for everything (in Euskara, the Basque Language

The photos below are from a group of guests who came to eat during our last service and passed on these photos to me:

Kaolin Clay Potatoes

Sake and Txakoli Cured Scallops with Dandelion and crunchy roe

Dover Sole with a reduction of its bones and chicory