Braised and Confused

2011-02-02T01:56:00.002-05:00

So much to say, so much seen...just a matter of finding a block of time to do it...still cooking, living one plate at a time...

Conundrum

2010-09-07T15:49:00.000-04:00

Hello Friends!

Sorry I’ve been a stranger for the past few weeks (eek, months). It was like I pulled a Rip Van Winkle, fell asleep, and boom, time had raced past me.

Though I cannot divulge too much, I will suffice it to say I have worked a lot over the past few months, and in another kitchen I never dreamed I’d be so fortunate to call myself a part of. Challenging is an adjective probably better suited for great physical feats of strength or SAT preparation, but even those seem like small potatoes to the gnarliness of the effects of the past few months on me.

Fourteen to fifteen hour days, an hour-plus commute tacked onto both ends of that and the constant pressure of searching for the fleeting “it”. Its been tough, tougher than ever, but at this point at least there is a level of comfort I feel to sort it out and share a little bit with you, and with myself simultaneously.

“Nobody ever said this was going to be easy!”

I definitely have nights where I find a little bit of dark, skeptical satisfaction in that very same statement that was probably being screamed at me just hours before by a bellicose but good-hearted sous chef. There are a lot of mantra’s, philosophies and sayings at the restaurant, but I think the most important lesson I’ve been imbued with the past few months is to just push, and fight on, no matter how impossible seeming the task or scenario.

The only comfort or satisfaction that really settles with me is giving everything I have, whether or not we tally the night in the successs or failure column. In fact, I would rather have a nightmare service knowing that I used every last moment and resource to its fullest than have a decent service with mis en place or moments that I think could be better. Clearly a best-of-both-worlds situation is ideal, but if it were that easy, it probably wouldn’t provide for that kind of professional growth, or culinary puberty if you will, that our predecessors keep telling us is essential to replacing them at the helms of the ships.

While I have found friends and some success in my newest ventures here in New York City, my heart is still in Spain, and my friendships with the people whom I was surrounded by during my time there are missed dearly. Even more so, I still miss calling upstate New York home. I guess I never measured success and happiness like many of my peers, so its left me a bit empty feeling to achieve some of the goals I once envisioned as crucial benchmarks on my path to happiness only to find myself wanting what I had once thought was just okay enough. In the same way notable groundbreaking chefs hit that wall where they want to go back to the simplest of things, I find myself at the very boundary of where I had envisioned going with my life and food, and just looking inward (backwards maybe, depending on your perspective or attitude towards the situation).

Anywho, some of the funner (I know, but I wanted to use it, so whatever0 things I have been a part of the past few months have been pretty special experiences. We, up until a few weeks ago, were going to the Union Square farmers markets to pull our own produce for our services. One of the cool things about what we do is people come back in the kitchen after their meals. They are often giddy and food drunk (and just as often drunk-drunk) but still the emotional rewards they bestow make an otherwise crazy life, worth it. Then I think about the farmer, who meets the cook who cooks his vegetables, and hope they get a little of that satisfaction as well. Then you think about it, and realize your another caretaker in the life of a vegetable that was born, lived and expunged in the quest of satiating someone. Its not really about the perfection, really, its about people and product, the two most flawed things I’ve ever encountered in my life.

Ive been talking with a notable chef from California over the past few months, named Jeremy Fox. As funny as I can put it, our exchanges have been (hopefully for him as much as me) mutually inspirational, and never really professionally encroaching or too serious. I think our paths crossed a critical points in both of our careers and lives. Lest we forget, that is rarely the things we do for people that really stick in their memories, but the way we make them feel. Sometimes they are directly related, sometimes they aren’t.

Someday here soon the reality will settle in that I started doing this to cook for my friends and family in a place I know and love. Bottom line. Michelin Stars, accolades and accomplishments don't change the fact that this is still the dream, and even how wonderful it is, not the reality that I live in.

Hope to see everyone again here soon, now that I am settled and stateside.

I am going to add pictures later at some point, just wanted to get something on here finally.

Cheers,
GKC

2010-03-29T20:13:00.002-04:00

Hello World!

Sorry for the absence. I am trying to figure out how to keep doing this without being cumbersome on my new schedule/work/life and not step on any toes. I am living in Brooklyn and have pretty much inherited the most insane home/test kitchen ever (by virtue of living with my buddy Tyler Lyne).

I will be back here soon with pictures, stories and other relevant stuff as soon as I enjoy one of those days off.

Don't stop the machine!
GKC

Rising from the Ashes...

2010-03-13T01:17:00.007-05:00

HELLO WORLD!!!

I apologize sincerely for the time elapse since my last email. As you can imagine, juggling an international move, round the clock job hunt, metropolitan relocation, equipment re-equipment, and time zone refract has taken a little bit of time. But I'm not going to waste space here on that, I have much to write about!

First, and foremost (as this is extremely delayed already) I have to stand up and thank from the bottom of my heart the unprecedented help and support that I have received from a few awesome people: John Sconzo, Mike Green and his son Aiden Brooks came together, established a fundraiser and drummed up support from every corner of the food world to raise us some money to help us replace our knives. In just a few days, they helped us cover the costs of replacing the knives that we had spent years collecting and working with. In the wake of their efforts, others came forward as well to go out of their respective way's to lend us support. Chad Ward, the author of The Edge in the Kitchen came forward to use his industry contacts, expertise and even personal collection if necessary to get us back on track. Mark Richmond, the owner of Chef Knives to Go jumped in and offered to let us purchase knives from his extremely extensive inventory at cost, which, trust me, is not something any of us had expected. As such, Korin Knives, also extended a generous discount to us, thereby making it feasible for me to replace the Excalibur of my personal knife artillery, a Nenox Corian Gyutuo.

Sorry this is becoming an Oscar-esque thank you note, but these are tremendous people who you might be lucky enough to come across someday, and when you do, I want you to recognize them and give them a hug for coming to the aid of their fellow man in a time of need.

These awesome folks contributed at firstgiving.com: Mike Green, John Sconzo (docsconz.typepad.com), Jason Yee, James Kane, Joseph Gerard, Rob Connoley, Fred Kellerman, Alex Saneski, David Barzelay, Chew Fatt Soh, Matthew Stein, Alex Talbot & Aki Kamozawa (Ideasinfood.com), Andrew Kirsch, Derek Slager, David Rodriguez, Cruz Caudillo (thisismybrainonfood.com), Craig Thornton (wolvesmouth.com), Kathy Tang, Christopher Powers, Chad Ward (chadwrite.com), Scott Alperin, Zach Hunter (an American set to stage at Mugaritz in May), Brett Posmnetier (a friend from the CIA), Elbert Cheng, Alan Hsu, Joseph J. Fenush III, Townsend Wentz, John Dryzga, Mattias Hagglund, Elements Restaurant Staff (elementsprinceton.com - a substantially interesting restaurant in NJ), AJ Jimenez, Linda Anctil, Brendan King (a classmate @CIA), Scott Dunkelberger (fellow CIA alum), Pim Techamuanvivit (Chezpim.com - one of the best foodbloggers alive), Anthony Nardi, Harold McGee (author of On Food and Cooking...a culinary god...enough said), Hugh Blair, Darcie Fontaine, Alex Lincoln, Martha Gehan, David Yewell, Sean Paroff, Jessica Vanderhoff, Hsun-Chi Chen, Zarmik Moqtaderi (zarmik.com), Paul Reiss, Amanda Tarrant, Naomi Bautista, Jo Stougard (mylastbite.com), Pat Sheldon (owner of Sheldon Farms in Upstate NY), Sarah Nash, Chad Burkhardt, James Biskey, Matt Kantor (Fellow CIA Alum who owns little kitchen in Toronto -littlekitchen.ca/), Patrick McGuire (owner of Neptune Oyster & Author of Server Not Servant), Wendy Miller, Andrew Kwan, Boris Portnoy (pastry chef/owner @ Sucrepunch in SF), Antonios Drakoularakos, Patrick Miller (chef at Gilt in NYC), Nina Chan, Reid Nakasone, and Robert Mayo. Un abrazo a todos de todos. A big hug from all of us to all of you.

Jeremy Fox, Antoinette Bruno, and an entire cast of people from the food world who contacted us either directly or through people, willing to lend us a hand in many different arenas. I wont lie, getting re-situated in a job was not the least of my worries upon getting home, but I will reconnect with this momentarily. The guys at StoveMonkeys.com wrote with support for our situation. Various other bloggers, twitterers, facebookers and even people in passing wrote in support of our cause, our situation and of the plight of Mugaritz.

I hope everyone gets a chance to visit mugaritz.com/blog. There they are keeping tabs on the reconstruction efforts and actually soliciting recommendations from the world on how to make improvements for their new kitchen. The fire was not fatal, but was certainly tragic, to see the time, care, and nourishing destroyed so quickly and so uncontrollably. My time at Mugaritz was cut short, but that makes my resolve to get back there only that much more intense. And to that end, I implore those of you with the ways, the means, the time, the ability, the money, the freedom to do it, GO TO MUGARITZ WHEN THEY REOPEN! Your journey, whether it be for a few hours as a guest or a few months as a stage, will open your eyes and give life to new ways of thinking, be it about food, about wine, about art or about life. It certainly did for me.

It will be wonderful again to jump back into a progressive and thought provoking kitchen. It will also test one of my other mottos, "fear is the enemy of progression". I expect to be challenged greater than I ever have before, but I am excited to learn and to grow with this family of chefs. On that note, its time for me to start ironing those blue aprons...if you need me, Ill be in the kitchen ;-)

All of my best,
Greg Kuzia-Carmel
13Mar10

The Photos are from Zigor, one of the dining room captains who also takes (very very good) pictures.

The Importance of Stagaires/Staging

2010-02-28T10:11:00.011-05:00

The principles of stagaireship are as storied and important to the culinary profession as any. In the more classical European model of professional cuisinier upbringing, a stagaire was generally a young lad sent to a decent establishment with a little bit of survival money and a note attached saying: here’s our kid, put him to work, make something out of ‘em. Many of today’s top European chefs have partaken in such a ritual (look no further than Jean George Vongerichten’s experience at Auberge d L’Ill for a prime example).

To a degree, even this form of stagiareship still exists, though it has made way for the more common and accepted practice, of cooks of all ages coming to reputable restaurants to work for free for a pre-designated period of time. The inclusion of “all ages” is important because, for example, we at Mugaritz ranged in age from 18-32. In exchange for their hard work, the cooks are rewarded with experience, knowledge, sometimes housing, sometimes an open invitation to look back at old recipe catalogs, and often a letter of endorsement to help the said cook either continue onto another stage or professional position.

I can only assume that people pursue stages for a number of different reasons, and as such, one can expect to encounter a wide variety of personalities in a kitchen of this nature. Of course, the nature of the establishment, the culture it fosters within itself and projects to the outside world, and general logistics of the restaurant factor greatly on the type (and number) of people you come across. Though over the years I have taken many opportunities to embark on shorter stages of just a few days at restaurants around the US, the only one I can speak intimately of is Mugaritz, where for nearly four months, I literally lived, breathed and ate the tangible elements that were (and in my mind still are) the fourth best restaurant in the world.

I can’t speak to others motivations for coming to Mugaritz, but I will say that my decision evolved from elements of curiosity, adventurism, and the constant desire to be challenged. I was very fortunate to have been working for one of the better chefs in the United States, and for that matter, in one of the better families/systems of restaurants in the country, to position myself for this next step.

Then the email came, and overnight, the ship that is my life began to plot a new course.

When I got to Mugaritz I was shocked by the sheer number of people who worked there and, later, to learn the number of these people that were actually unpaid stages. I also came to learn that all of the paid employees had fulfilled stages there (and additionally elsewhere) prior to being offered any position. It was one of those moments as a cook where you kick yourself in the face and ask yourself, how the hell is it possible to have a restaurant that has 4 guys butchering fish 6 hours a day, for 50 guests? 4 guys was almost a full kitchen at Toro; here, it was the number of guys butchering fish. Certainly this cannot be efficient or practical to take lessons from.

As time went on, though, I began to get it. You know when you go to a restaurant and you get something so inexplicably refined or soigné, that you just sit there and think to yourself, man, it must have taken an army to make this? That’s what it began to feel like here, and as a cook, you begin to take a certain pride in seeing that, even if its something simple, even if its something that you had absolutely no part in making. Some nights I’d be beaten up, exhausted, stressed out, but I would hang around and watch the last few pastry courses go out. I’d watch dishes like the Apinabo, which is essentially a dessert based on Celery-root, and think to myself, this is Muga-f*ing-ritz! Someone could have come here from halfway around the world just to eat here, and I am a part of it. That feeling is worth more than a six-figure salary. Say what youwant, but cooks are proud people, even if they are humble.

Over the years, Mugaritz has gotten very keen about how they execute their stagaire program. They adopted a system that would ensure a constant ebb and flow of employees, which guaranteed them to be staffed to a max capacity, but also, ingeniously, created a cross over of employees thus allowing us to essentially teach each other the basic norms and position each other to be successful. Brilliant! A self-teaching, self-policing, self-coaching staff that performs at conspicuously high levels and, at the bottom of it all, works basically for free. A quote from that Field of Dreams movie keeps coming to mind.

So what did I get from my stage?

First, I learned a bunch of Spanish, a language I had studied before, but never really tested on the open road. Anyone whose ever even seen a professional restaurant kitchen in the United States knows that’s like going to a Star Trek convention and speaking fluent Klingon (for the record, why doesn’t Microsoft recognize that as a word).

Second, I learned to live on almost nothing. Unlike before, when I was working for next to nothing, now I was actually working for nothing! It’s actually a blessing in disguise, as you really learn to get resourceful and be clever with how to make your slim budgets go the distance. That doesn’t sound much unlike some job descriptions I’ve seen for Executive Chef’s in recent times, maybe that experience alone could prove invaluable.

Third, I lost a little bit of weight. Actually, let me put this more accurate, I got healthier. Part of living in a remote farmhouse and sharing staff meal with sometimes 60+ people meant being more conscious of food, and what I ate, and planning. Ever tried going to a supermarket on a Sunday in Spain? Didn’t think so. And staff meals were good, balanced, wholesome and nutritious. Generally we were getting the same premium of goods as our guests, though often secondary cuts and in much more bourgeoisie preparations. It also meant the end of late night strolls to Chinatown, where one could chase a gluttonous festival of peking raviolis and bahn-mi with beer and sesame donuts. This, combined with the constant movement and discipline that’s required to function here, actually makes you healthier! (For the record, there is still a spot in my heart/stomach for the things I just wrote disparaging remarks about)

Fourth, I learned some real team building skills, real strategies to work with an entirely different crop of cooks than I ever have before. Cooks who’ve spent times in the top kitchens around the world; Cooks who were younger than me; older than me; Cooks who were a lot of fun to be around (sometimes too much); Cooks who I didn’t want to spend a single surplus moment with; all kinds of cooks/people. It was this camaraderie, though, that really pushes you and teaches you. This network of people, is what really spreads the knowledge of food about, and what really keeps the progression alive. Much to Mugaritz’ credit, they supported the sharing of techniques and idea, including those from outside the restaurant. If there was a way for us to improve on something that was already somehow in the restaurants repertoire, it was given fair chance to be incorporated.

Fifth, I met some wonderful people. I made friends that I hope to keep for my lifetime, and that extends above and beyond the stagaires and back of the house folk. I met people from six continents, who all left something behind to be a part of a little farmhouse restaurant in the middle of a town that people fifteen kilometers away from can’t even find on a map. I met all of the famous people, and the entire behind the scene staff. We do this, not only because we like food (dieticians and Monsanto engineers like food too) but because we like people. That alone was worth my time and sacrifice to be here.

Sixth, I like to think that I learned a little bit more about how to actually cook like this, move like this; to dance. Restaurant life before I came here was all about execution, and the only definition of execution I really knew was “done”. Was it “done”? Did you get it “done”? Is someone doing it, I know it sucks, but it has to get “done”? Things could have been “done” too much or not “done” enough, thereby actually not making them “done” at all. You get my point. Here, it was more than just completing the task, could you break down your station without disturbing the partida (team) working feverishly just inches from you? Could you break down the fogones (burners on the stove, which were cleaned rigorously every service) with out making a single iota of noise? Could you do it cleaner, better, faster, and more efficiently than you had before? This was the finesse, the little variable (or variables) that draws the line in the sand between really good restaurants and exceptional ones. I’m sure, especially getting back to American kitchens, that I am going to return to the “done” environments in some way, but it was nice, if even just for a few months, to get in a few dance lessons at work.

That in mind, time for me to find a new kitchen to work in.

Thanks so much to everyone who has chipped in to help us out with knives, jobs, apartments, kind words, funny introspections, et cetera over the past few days. I want to send another personal above and beyond thanks to John Sconzo, Mike Green, Chad Ward, Tom Blodgett, Antoinette Bruno and everyone at Starchefs, Gavin Kaysen, Jeremy Fox, Shuna Lydon, Aiden Brooks, Tyler Lyne, Aki and Alex from Ideas in Food, Chez Pim, Michael Ruhlman, Michael Voltaggio, The Culinary Institute of America, Jamie Bissonnette/Ken Oringer et Family, everyone who has helped spread the word via Facebook/Twitter/Blogs/Carrier Pigeon, everyone @ Mugaritz and everyone @ home. This has been and continues to be a surreal experience that I am still having difficulty to understand.

Thanks to Mike Green and John Sconzo, who set up firstgiving.com/mugaritzknives, there is actually a possibility that we are going to recieve a little help to replace our knives! It is absolutely a blessing, because we had to budget so tight already to work and live here for 6 months unpaid, that replacing costly cutlery was never something we had prepared for. In fact, I told myself and my friends before I left, that I could afford to jettison anything on the return trip, except my books and my knives. If anyone else gets a chance to stop over to the site, and possibly help us out, we would be inexplicably grateful and thankful. Its one GIGANTIC step towards getting our careers/lives back on track.

Thank you again, and again, and again for all of the solidarity.

Greg Kuzia-Carmel

Here is a link to the Knife Fund.

Of a Million Thanks

2010-02-24T15:51:00.005-05:00

Hello Everyone from France,

So the wave of support that has come from around the food world, nay, world in general, is absolutely breathtaking. A week and a half ago, we were just a bunch of kids living in an attic, getting up at nine every-day, learning how to make big things small, small things big, and fundamentals for being decent cooks/thinkers/people.

We'll, we are still those kids, and all of those things, but now we are forced to try to find a new place to call home, and as many of you have heard, re-gear ourselves with the few things we as cooks and professionals hold sacred, our knives.

I am keeping this post (uncharacteristically) short so I can rest up and get ready for this transatlantic sojourn, but I wanted to alert the readers here (thats right both of you, mom and dad), that some truly great people in the food world have set up a fund to try to raise money for us to replace our knives (www.firstgiving.com/mugaritzknives). Theres a whole world of people to thank, and its my first task for when I land stateside, other than probably getting roped into cooking for the folks ;-).

With that in mind, I am going back to walking the streets of Paris, filling up the memory card on my camera, and trying to dodge the raindrops.

I will see you all ASAP, if not sooner,

Warmest,
Greg

Last Days at Mugaritz

2010-02-21T04:34:00.005-05:00

This is a video/picture journal/compilation from the stagaires at Mugaritz.

We made this on our last night together.

What a wonderful family we have.

Un ambrazo a todos.

A hug from us for all of the kindness shined down upon us.

Warmest,

Greg K-C

Engulfed by Fire

2010-02-19T18:20:00.012-05:00

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

With Great Sadness...

2010-02-15T22:19:00.003-05:00

It is with the utmost respect that I am refraining from posting anything here until Mugaritz has made an official statement. I am humbled and deeply moved by the events of the past few days and will let it suffice to say that I have as much confidence, if not more, in the characteristics of Andoni Luis Aduriz and his entire team.

Greg K-C

In the spirit of Influence...

2010-02-08T08:54:00.009-05:00

Influence.

In an entire lifetime/career, we can usually pinpoint very specific moments which determine the course upon which our lives follow. This week is officially the halfway point for me and my tenure here in Spain. In this week I thought much about a few of the moments in my life that led me to only here, but to follow this path.

My first serious food memory was from when I must have been about three years old (an assumption only because I think I can remember my brother being born already) , and though I often try to think back to other moments of importance, this is the most distinct one. I remember my dad cooking squid with garlic in our kitchen in Cohoes, New York. I can't remember much of the peripherals, but I remember the smells of toasting garlic and black pepper, the sound of the semi-moist tentacles kissing the hot oil and inciting a near flare up, and image of the squid quickly coagulating and seizing. That was it, the entire symphony of senses culminating with taste of calimari. This week I had a moment not so much unlike that in the movie Ratatouille when the critic, Anton Ego, tastes the Ratatouille and is snapped back to a moment in his childhood. One of the days this week we were serving a new apertivo course dish with baby squid (or chupitos) and Andoni was demonstrating with the first few how he wanted them cooked and such for the chef de parties. It was eery to watch and cross fade in my head the visual memory of my Dad cooking that first squid and the live image of Andoni testing out these precious little baby squid which underwent much meticulous prep. Techniques: in full circle.

My dad cooking in the Old House

The current incarnation of Squid at Mugaritz (with baby carrots and arbequina olives)

A few years later when I was in elementary school, my mom took me out to dinner at a fancy restaurant (The Mansion Hill Inn) for my birthday, maybe in fourth or fifth grade. It was funny because I was ambivalent to the experience at the time honestly, it seemed fun, but I could have given or taken it. None the less, it was an early peek at the restaurant world and I remember it was one of the first times I had lobster in a restaurant. Though by now, my image of the meal is quite antiquated, I remember the lobster was served with a stew of corn, tomatoes and the claws, with the butter-poached tail sitting on top of Israeli Cous Cous. I too experienced a "deja vu" of this experience during a stage at Per Se in May of 2007. Come to think about it, almost exactly 12 years after my first restaurant Lobster encounter. On the day I staged at Per Se, I helped the fish station Chef de Partie with her mise-en-place and pre-service set up. On that given night, on the menu, they served one of the Thomas Keller originals, "Mac and Cheese", which is rather orzo pasta enriched with marscapone and served with a butter poached lobster tail. The visual though, dragged me right back to those first awkward moments sitting in an expensive restaurant in my Sunday best.

The cover of the New Yorker that ran a few years later, and ironically, came on my birthday.

Thomas Kellers "Macaroni and Cheese"

In the summer of 2000, I took my first employment at a summer camp in Western New York, near the Tug Hill Plateau. It was my first time really living away from home, first time keeping a responsible schedule, first time working, and first time making (though very little) money. It was a fun summer, and though I was only 15, I think there were some good lessons to be taken from being a grunt. 14 hour days beginning at 8 a.m., 6 days a week, were all good preparations for professional kitchen life, but it was here that I met another early role model, Martin Geskalney. Martin was this cool dude from Montreal who ran the kitchen for part of the summer, and not only did he turn me onto (good) music, but he taught me how to season food properly and really take ownership in my work. He didn't take things too seriously, but he was responsible and at an age and place where one would normally look towards older brothers, I had a few people to look up to.

I guess what Im getting at, is that my time here has made me more sentimental. We watched a video the other day in the kitchen that was shown at Madrid Fusion. It showed the evolution of our salsify dish with fish eggs and marine herbs. The funny thing was, the video showed that the original inspiration for the texture and visualization was fallen trees in the woods.

This is a picture of fallen trees...

...and this is a picture of the Salsify dish here.

The lesson, maybe even a good definition of the evolution is this: the farther "forward" we go, the closer we get to where we started. Maybe evolution is the wrong term, maybe revolution is better. I think the more I see things that test the boundaries of my imagination or understanding, the more I take comfort in the things I know very well or am familiar with. It's good to know how far you've come, and equally important to know where you started.

Im trying to take more photos and put together another little movie. Hopefully in the coming days and weeks I can amass a little bit of worthy content.

Anywho. I am also headed back to Barcelona in April to meet some of my friends from back home and am open and interested to any suggestions people might have of other things to see and do there. Likewise, I am going to spend a bit under a week in Paris in May just before coming home and am curious if anyone has must see foodie recommendations there as well (Pierre Herme/Laduree macaroons, Poilane Bakery, the Dehillerin kitchen shop, and a meal at Le Chateaubriand are all on my interest list).

Cheers...(and congrats to the saints ;-))

Agur,

Greg

A Visit from Friends

2010-02-01T07:00:00.009-05:00

So I had written a long, philosophical lead into this entry about the idea of perfection, a topic we got to talking about this week in the kitchen. But rather than try to stand on a soap box and preach my belief, I leave it to Thomas Keller to sum up my thoughts for me, because I think they tie into the overall theme of this post:

"When you acknowledge, as you must, that there is no such thing as perfect food, only the idea of it, then the real purpose of striving toward perfection becomes clear: to make people happy. That's what cooking is all about."

Okay, enough with the philosophical babble, here are some PICTURES! So two weeks ago my alma mater (The Culinary Institute of America in New York) sent their current class of business students to Spain for a Wine and Food seminar. I went on one a few years back to California and can say from experience it was as much about the former as the latter (read: alot of fun). Anywho, part of their itinerary included a stop over in San Sebastian, where I was actually able to meet up with the group and take some of them around to some of the cooler (in my opinion) spots in the city. Then to top it all off they came to Mugaritz on their last day, all 30 of them! It was very cool, and as having mentioned before, since we cannot take pictures here, its difficult to sometimes explain what happens here or what it's like, through THEIR photos I will try to give you an idea (without spoiling any of the secrets) of what goes on here.

When you sit at the table you are offered two possible welcoming cards...

The class was then able to see the main kitchen. First is Rafa Costa de Silva, the chef de cuisine (and yours truly in the background). Second is one wing of the pass where pastry works and beyond there you can see the Meat Station and Plancha (manned by the hilarious young swedish kid Mattias)...

As the guests return to their table their first few snacks come from the kitchen. First is the famous Kaolin potato, a small potato related to fingerlings which is cooked in an edible clay shell and served with alioli (garlicky mayonnaise to you Dad)...Next are small shrimp from the Cantabrian Sea which are quickly fried and meant to be eaten whole..

The third snack on this day is a consomme of tubers with miniature leeks...Unlike 'baby vegetables' these were a special breed unique to this region which are meticulously (!!!) cleaned and prepared. Technique can be elusive here.

Coming from my current station is one of the first "courses" of the meal. This is a special variety of cardoon which can be eaten raw. Those unfamiliar with cardoons, they are a delicious but painstaking vegetable to cook to make palatable and are usually unbearably bitter. These cardoons come from Pamplona, from the family farm of one of the chefs. They are served with Milk Skin and a sauce of Chufa Tubers. Three elements here, all so meticulous in preparation. The chufa tubers taste a bit like jerusalem artichokes but nuttier and distinct.

This is an imitation of carpaccio made with Watermelon. Through a process that takes 8 people 3 days to do, the watermelon mimics the textures and flavors of beef carpaccio. The herbs atop the carpaccio are Oxalis and are cut daily from vegetation surrounding the restaurant. Remember when you were a kid looking for four-leaf clovers? We have a team that does this every day.

The next course also comes off my station and is a fossilization of Salsify, a root vegetable which has a similar flavor complex of oysters. The dish itself plays on these elements for its flavor profile. It is served with (paintakingly, time-consumingly, meticulously) prepared Merluza (fish) Roe, Amaranth and a seaweed named Junko Marina. The salsify itself also undergoes a process of calcification which is far to complex to explain here, but highlights the idea that even 4 ingredients can be extremely challenging to bring together.

This course is now coming off my station as well, but was not at the time. This is a dumpling of brandade (cod and potatoes) draped with the gelatin from a Cod Kokotxa (the chin of the fish) and the traditional sauce of Pil pil made with the cod cooking liquid and 1000 flower honey.

This course also came off our station and is one of Mugaritz most famous dishes. It is gnocci made with a japanese starch called Kuzu and a water made from the native Idiazable cheese. If you can just imagine trying to make a water out of cheese (primarily, a fat) you can already understand how hard this dish is. It is served with Iberico Pig Broth (so tasty) and tiny plushes of contrasting herbs (all arranged with tweezers naturally).

This is the current incarnation of the Foie dish. We prepare it in the same process as Michel Bras. It is poached/cleaned in milk and salt for several hours, portioned and frozen. Then, from the freezer, it is DEEP FRIED for a quick plunge before being roasted to temperature and smoked. Here it is being served with a local squash and an herb called ruca. Each portion is gigantic and is trimmed to size to order. This. is. how. to. eat. foie.

This is lenguado, or more commonly known as Dover Sole. Here, it is prepared very uniquely. It is filleted whole, then the two fillets are glued together using Transglutaminase leaving a fillet about 3-4 centimeters thick and with crispy skin on both sides. It is served chicory, a bitter green related to endive (and coffee to a degree), which has been cooked in a gastrovac, a Willy Wonka like toy that can manipulate textures and flavors of things in ways never before imagined possible.

This was the final savory course here is a play on the Spanish theme of marrying the sea with the land (Surf and turf for you Dad). We take the tails from langoustines (a very expensive and delicate crustacean which tastes like a lobster, a shrimp and a crab crossbred, but better) and crispy pigs tails from Iberico pigs and serve them with more Iberico ham shavings and the cooking broth of the tails. Its a little tounge in cheek too, tails and tails. Bottom line, this is what I want to eat before I die.

To prepare for landing, the guests are presented with a small towel. With just a touch of hot water this happens.

Still playing on the cleanliness joke, your first dessert course is called Jabon, or soap. It is actually an oatmeal ice cream with a honey and lard cookie and honey bubbles. I could do a whole meal of just this course.

Then, if that wasn't enough, they drop this in front of you. This is a Torrija, or the Spanish response to "french toast". The torrija, well I wont spoil it for you, but I will say this, I personally have never seen one come back unfinished.

Then to complete their experience, the students got to explore the test kitchen!

This is the rotary evaporator that, in a process to the distillation of spirits, creates pure clean extractions of ingredients, often indistinguishable from water visually but extremely potent and flavorful.

Then Andoni showed them a dish he had been working based on the principles and beauty of the noble egg. This dish is 4 years in the making and was just unveiled in a video at a culinary conference in November.

These are the egg shells made from a fine sugar.

And that concludes the photos I borrowed from the students. It was one of the proudest days I have had cooking to be able to be on the other side of the kitchen for this experience. It was wonderful seeing Chef Joseba Encabo as well, as he has literally seen me grow into the cook and person I am (maybe shrink a little too ;-))

Without any question, things change here all of the time, and most of these dishes change constantly, thus asking the question...what will it be like when you finally come and eat here???

Chat Soon!

Greg

Going Dutch

2010-01-13T16:08:00.008-05:00

Back from The Netherlands and getting ready to resume restaurant service. As you may or may not know, the restaurant closed for part of December and most of January for an annual break, and simultaneously, to allow for significant modifications and improvements to be made to the restaurant. It is no secret here that amongst the many ambitions of this restaurant is the coveted third Michelin star, awarded to only the most premier restaurants, the pinnacle of achievement (if thats how you take your coffee so-to-speak).

At last note I had passed a significant portion in Barcelona, the capital of Catalunya and one of the epicenters of Spanish gastronomy. Chasing an impassable invitation, I scuttled my way up to Holland to visit with my roommate from here at Mugaritz, Gilbert Kolff, where he lives with his girlfriend Nienke in Rotterdam (la chouffe, their adorable cat/my new best friends, also resides there).

La Chouffe - Like the beer.

Gilberts killer crib.

I looked at Rotterdam initially as an opportunity to go somewhere I probably would never otherwise. That sounded like it fit the curriculum of my time here perfectly. After landing in Einhoven, and driving northward only slightly, Gilbert said he could show me the stereotypical "Dutch" tourist experience. NO, not copious marijuana/paraphernalia and prostitution (though that, unfortunately, was pretty much what I had allocated the Netherlands for stereotypical idioms). A few quick turns and there we were, staring down a phallanx of giant windmills, several hundred years old, surrounded by frozen tributaries with blissful little kinders skating around [frozen used here in the same vain that warm might be used to describe the Utah Salt Flats).

And then it fucking clicked! I had no clue where I was or what this place was really about. The most I could say about Rotterdam was that we had Rotterdam back in New York, and I had gotten a question wrong about it back in 10th grade History with Mr. Loveday (Albany High alum will enjoy a laugh on memory lane with that one, possibly). But back to the epiphany, again here I was in a beautiful, culturally rich foreign land, absolutely oblivious to the wonders at my fingertips.

Next leg of the Dutch adventure: Ferry-Ride!

Bikes everywhere. Cool Apartments/Houses too!

After getting settled, Gilbert said that he and Nienke had a bike for me to explore with, as I would have some time to explore alone. A-W-E-S-O-M-E! Whats that old saying, When in Rome? I immediately found the city to be incomprehensibly welcoming. If my Spanish was about as reliable as a Fiat, my Dutch was about as useful as Polish submarine; screen doors included. But something happened, people we're not only accommodating to my situation, they were downright friendly about it, maybe even a bit curious as to why I would take any interest in their humble city. Rotterdam, as you may or may not know, is in it's relative infancy compared to most of it's well known surrounding cities. Back in the second world war that German guy with the funny mustache did a little demolition, literally leaving only two things standing, the post office and the church.

This store sells Toothbrushes and Tooth Brush accessories.

For floss, go elsewhere.

Someone opened my eponymous restaurant for me!

And they used a cat for the logo too!

So since then Rotterdam has been on the build, but the story is more interesting than that (or maybe just to me, in which case, if you care to, feel free to skip ahead a couple of paragraphs). Rotterdam for all intents and purposes can and should be a significant place of attention/attraction in Europe, and for a long time prior it was (HMMM, sounds like my hometown, no?) Seeing the potential in economic and cultural contributions, Rotterdam has attracted almost a cult following in the design world and become a haven for some creative geniuses. With a city that preaches a freedom almost as passionately as the public reciprocates, its no wonder that this is a safe-haven for the outliers. Art is everywhere, people are welcoming and happy, restaurants at all levels appear to have better than average success.

One of the greatest foodies is now published in Dutch!

So extrapolating on the epiphany; GILBERT! Gilbert is like a walking and talking tourism board for Rotterdam, absolutely enamored by where he comes from. What I found here, in this relatively small city was my dutch contemporary. A living, breathing, epitome of me, tall, funny, redheaded dude who loves his hometown and wants to open a restaurant, have a family and settle his life somewhere reasonable. Likes simplicity, belgian beer, hip-hop and jazz, and speaks for himself. Likes Saab's, old bikes, and having a kitchen full of gadgets/random ingredients. Gilbert also helped his old chef write a cookkbook while working at this restaurant, which serves articulate, contemporary, seasonal food (sound familiar here) (http://www.restaurantdeharmonie.nl/site/). A selfless, genuine friend who opened his door for me when I was light-years away from that which I called home.

Im forming a Copper-buyers Anonymous support group.

We meet every 2nd of the month...after paying our credit card bills.

Don't worry, I have a Le Creuset habit too!

Must for my future home kitchen: Bad ass butchers block.

Michel Bras knives collectively cost more than my last car.

But then again, I dont need a car.

Like a lays potato chip.

Half-way around the world, on a vacation I never realized I was going to have, in a city I never planned on visiting, in a country I would probably struggle to locate on a map I found something absolutely crucial to my existence: there are other people just like me. In fact, shockingly similar, down to even looking a little like me. Gilbert's been a remarkable friend to me here and a model for the characteristics, skills, and personality traits that I want to have some day. In alot of way's what I felt leaving Rotterdam was that I had found someone on the same, rarely taken path as me, but a few more miles down the road. I think Gilbert will be a good friend of mine long after this experience ends and we go our separate ways. At any rate, I found the best place in Rotterdam to get fresh Caneles and (really) strong coffee at any hour of the day or night.

Thanks for following.

In the year two thousand...

2010-01-08T16:12:00.004-05:00

Bienvenidos Dos-mil-y-Diez!

Hello Everyone!

On Dec 31st I made the ye ole haul to Barcelona for New Years Eve. After the equivalent of a red-eye bus ride (never again!) and connection of metro-trips, a couple sets of bad directions, this tired panda finally made it to the hostel I had booked online. My only initial inclination to go to Barcelona, actually, was because my Australian buddy here at the restaurant was moving on in January (actually returning to Tetsuya, one of the best restaurants in Australia, to become their Chef de Cuisine). His girlfriend was coming in from Australia and his buddy from back home was coming down from The Fat Duck in England to celebrate and spend a few days in the city. Sounded like a good enough time, I was in too. After getting settled into my hostel, I also met four other american guys taking a short little jaunt through Europe. Bottom line, at any end, there would be things to do and people to do them with.

New Years Eve itself was pretty much its own cliche ordeal, we didn't even go to the heart of the city for "the moment" (sorry if you were clicking in looking for pictures of Molotov cocktails and overturned cars) but I did take a jaunt down shortly after just to see the celebration. Naturally it was a flood of alcohol, adrenaline and people, and after realizing that the only people as sober as me were the Moroccan drug peddlers/pickpockets and the riot Police, I decided it was probably more fun to turn in early and have the city to myself the next morning. Good choice I think.

I took alot of pictures. I walked so much. I walked so much that at one point I tried to figure out where I was going and realized I had wandered listlessly for over four hours nonstop (in the most literal sense of the word nonstop). I went to the Boqueria often enough that I started recognizing people and figuring out how to get back to the best stands.

Walking is good fun for me though, generally not for my companions however, so I generally go it alone. Im a natural wanderer, a decent one at that I think, so I like to break off and go it alone often. The whole time here, actually now that I think of it, is really just a big jaunt for me to get away from the structure and conformity that some times I had felt chained to.

Being here is going to make me poor, but that is okay I guess. Its kinda funny, the experiences that make us culturally rich tend to make us fiscally poor, but the characteristics of being chronically cheap are the ones that tend to lead to monetary wealth. Whatever.

I had two big meals in Barcelona (north of the 120euro range, to be a bit clearer): Alkimia and Comerc24. My roommate at Mugaritz, Gilbert from Rotterdam, worked at Comerc, which is the output of Carlos Abellan, the former chef at El Bulli. Likewise, Alkimia is a a temple in its own right and has a Michelin star to boot.

I don't have the Comerc photos quite yet (in fact I didn't have my camera, but my buddy Mikey did), but heres the Alkimia set.

1st- The never ending breadstick.

2nd- "Tradition" Pan con Tomate in a glass with Catalan Sausage (very yeasty/tasty)

3rd- "Vichyssoise" of Yerma (basically Jerusalem Artichoke)

4th- Escalivada with anchoas

5th- Foie Gras and Partridge Terrine, Cocoa, Calabaza Squash

6th- False Bone Marrow of Daikon Radish with Iberico Ragout, Bone Marrow and Roe

7th- "Mar i Montana" - Surf and Turf - Glazed Galician Oyster (HUGE) and Iberico Cheek

8th-Potato Foam with mi-cuit egg yolk, charred vegetables and daikon shoots

9th-Sea Cucumber with charred eggplant and smokey powders

10th-Cod with pickled cauliflower, green apple and yogurt

11th-Lamb shoulder with artichokes, onions and black olives (best dish)

12th-Mango Canneloni with juniper, passion fruit and honey ice cream

13th- Chocolate and raspberries, goats milk glace

Bonbons- Tomato, Dark Cocoa Olive Oil, Mandarin, Passionfruit White Chocolate

Me- Poor again...

Im in Rotterdam now, which is an awesome city. Its quite beautiful and clean, very simple design and everyone gets around on bike. Im taking lots of photos here, but honestly its quite cold, so maybe they'll be quite boring. I head back to Spain on tuesday, and then straight back to the restaurant to get ready for service. I will try to keep posting/taking pictures/finding funny things that I've never seen before.

Cheers,

Greg

2010-01-06T17:20:00.002-05:00

Thanks for putting up with my brief absence here. I spent almost a week in Barcelona doing nothing but snacking, taking pictures, meeting people and walking (and more walking)...Ill post here in the next few days, as I am finally settled up in Rotterdam with my roommate from Mugaritz. I said it before, but Ill say it again, this experience gets more enriching with every passing hour...

next transmission: very soon....

greg

Xmas in Gizpucoa

2009-12-22T18:19:00.009-05:00

So Christmas is here, and I’ve made a quick movie with some of the pictures Ive taken over the first few weeks (and, eek, months here). Life is pretty copasetic, but becoming increasingly more challenging as I am now working on the first course station. As you may have noticed or for that matter will continue to notice, I don’t have any photos from the kitchen of any of the prep, the service, or the food. This is prohibited. Actually, I kinda like that because you can’t totally live vicariously through ones documentation of this experience, you really need to come here and see it for yourself. Also, I am working on a guest blog for John Sconzo, the whom the food world more affectionately knows as Docsconz (docsconz.typepad.com).

After we closed for our final night of service, we spent the next day completely breaking down the kitchen so that it could be refitted and repaired during the closure. Things get painted, broken stuff fixed, yadda yadda yadda. It was a bittersweet experience because for several of the guys it was there last day there, and the culmination of the day was this graduation like group huddle where the departing received their letters of recommendation and well wishes from the team. There are no words to describe it because its such an unprecedented feeling to be connected so closely with people for such a short period of time and then separated. But life moves quickly here, and people too, so I digress.

It’s gotten cold, we wont divulge too much into that because frankly, it makes shiver just thinking about it. My Spanish is getting better, like a d-minus now, but nonetheless an improvement. The other day I was playfully poking fun with one of the sous chefs in production when I realized I was fully conversing in somewhat discernible Castellano. Maybe four months more will be enough time to figure this out.

I’ve lost a little bit of weight, and grown my beard back and earned myself (amongst a few others) one fun nickname: Chuck Norris. We’ve had a great time with the old Chuck Norris jokes too. For example, did you know that if you have five dollars, and Chuck Norris has five dollars, he has more money than you? Or that Chuck Norris was once bitten by a Rattlesnake while hiking, and after six hours of excruciating pain, the Rattlesnake died? It is a great new, never ending source of entertainment.

I have pretty much the next month off. I am going to stay here and do Xmas dinner with everyone here, and then possibly/probably go to Barcelona for New Years Eve.

After that, it’s up in the air. I have been beating around a bunch of ideas, but the most viable and crazy right now that I am actually considering is getting a general train pass for Spain and France, getting on a train with no specified destination and just traveling about. I have some friends from here scattered about the country, but honestly I will probably just go somewhere and try to find cheap pensions to stay in, and move about. It’s not a natural inclination for me, to travel in such an arbitrary style but it could be a lot of fun, so who knows, maybe Ill make a go of it.

Anywho, 2010 will only bring greater challenges, and Im grateful for this. So, when you’re watching the ole ball drop back in New York, just remember that Im six hours a head of you, and therefore, hopefully asleep…

Cheers, Merry Christmas/Happy Hannukah/Wonderful Festivus…

The Importance of Staff Meal

2009-12-14T17:19:00.003-05:00

I know what your thinking, you've read the title and now here comes another Keller-worshiping monologue in which the subject pits himself as protagonist against the unyielding pressures of cooking for his fellow kitchen mates. For the past two weeks, I have contemplated such a post, highlighting some of the rollercoaster ride that is procuring foodstuffs and executing meals for 60+ people twice a day as a staff of two.

Staff meal here, though, is really important. We work 6 days a week and we don't get paid, so really the only sustenance you get is from the 2 staff meals provided each day. Its a worry some job to cook for all of these guys too, because they are Michelin starred cooks (number 4 restaurant in the world, not to mention) seething with energy and more than willing to let you know what they think of the stuff. We were all over the dart board with our offerings, some bulls-eyes (burgers and cannelloni's), some in range and some, well you know. But thats the challenge and in part the reward, you don't really order stuff for your station and your susceptible to the errs in ordering or over ordering by your superiors. Sometimes its awesome some of the "trim" you get to work with, I mean one day we made an alubia, or pork and bean stew, almost exclusively with iberico pig and cochinillo (suckling pig) parts from the freezer! Sometimes though, you have to try to figure out what to do with piles of greens to bitter for the "real" customers, things too ripe for "paying" human consumption, et cetera, you get my drift. Sometimes you just want to refuse the unsolicited generosity of a chef de partie who has another 10 or so pounds of random unidentifiable cod pieces, but you cant and you figure it out.

Blah, blah, blah, you almost got suckered into another one of those awesome self-marketing stories of heroism and accomplishment, but on our last day on staff meal something wonderful happened. I will preface this by saying I am absolutely in no way shape or form responsible for what happened, it was all the work of our Chef de Partie Ramon and Diego, the other guy on staff meal. He had made a tasty panna-cotte with an orange blossom infused milk/cream we inherited, and we chilled it for the next day. The thing is the dairy here is a bit different and more finicky than what we are used to back in America (Diego is Guatemalan). Also, this cream was frozen before we got it, for some reason, and as such in our final product, some of the fat had separated to the top of the pastry leaving an unappealing waxy/fatty crust.

So here we are, trying to figure out what to do with these panna cottes, knowing full well that serving them also volunteers us to an altar of criticism. After discussion it was decided that we would put a thin brulee of sugar on the top of them and serve em up. After we were putting up our last dishes for the staff, Ramon and Diego blasted the surfaces of the pastries, and we went down to eat with our shift. Lone behold, who came downstairs to join us as he had a few times over the two weeks, Andoni! He picked at his food for a little and then grabbed a bowl of the pastry, which led to my partner and I shooting each other the look of death and humiliation as we figured we were about to be bestowed a significant tongue lashing. Andoni's eyes bolted up at us and said "WHO MADE THIS!?!?" Diego obliged and explained what happened and how he'd separated the fat and bruleed the top. Andoni was, much to our surprise, elated with the discovery and sensation of the crispy sugar enriched with an ever so thin coat of fat.

Everyone was shocked. One of the other cooks at staff meal, who is currently working in the test kitchen, remarked that when Andoni reacts like that it is either really bad or really good...we were happy to be on the upside. S0 the creating goes on, and we went back to hustle and bustle knowing that in our two weeks cooking staff meal, we'd been closer to "the one" more than any time prior. It was cool to think that the number 4 chef in the world, the guy who gets a forward to his books written in great length by Michel Bras, was eating hamburgers and soup with us...thats what its all about...

hope to get back on here around xmas...can't believe its so close and Im so far away...

cheers,

greg kc

venga VA!

2009-11-29T17:29:00.006-05:00

Almost a month has gone by since I touched down in Donostia.

Clearly, one of my greatest challenges here has become my adaptation of my general spanish education, one which hasn't really been tested as much as maybe it should have, into a world where people talk as fast as possible, the substance dances the many complex and subtle different dialects of the language (not to mention Portuguese and Euskadi thrown in for the extra challenge), and the information itself is very technically impregnated. Factor that by the extreme meticulous nature of the work being done, the caliber and expectations of the clientele, and sheer pressure of creating "this", and you get the point.

But in spite of all of that, or maybe in light of all of that, this has been wonderful! The restaurant is busy, by our measure. More than say 50 or 60 people a day is busy, but remember, this isn't the kind of place where you stroll in off the street for a quick meal. People travel from all corners of the world to sit with us for a few hours, and experience this.

So maybe the most important thing I should write here, and probably one of the most shocking things I will write on here is this: Mugaritz is not a restaurant! By convention, both ours in the US and likewise throughout the world, the conventional economics and strategies of a restaurant are to provide food, beverage and service in exchange for money, parts of which pay off debts incurred by the operation in order to deliver these goods and services, and ultimately generate a marginal profit. But these terms cannot be applied to this kind of arrangement (for some interesting reading I highly encourage a gander at this article from Harvard about Ferran Adria). Certainly, business is such that income must cover expenses, and there are ways in which Mugaritz does accomplish this, but the overhead is tremendous. Imagine a staff of nearly 50 to serve on average just around that number of guests! The great majority of us here are stages, in simplespeak, volunteers working for a period of time in exchange for training and networking, housed and boarded by the establishment in lieu of any financial compensation (though the latter is not always true of all "stage" arrangements). On top of us, there is a considerable number of full-time employees, not limited to just chef de parties (line cooks), sous chefs and de rigeur, there are office workers, landscapers, people who specialize in the maintenance of the garden, etc. On top of that, there is the food (that is the medium of creation here, of course)! We hadn't even gotten to the sheer cost of bringing to the door the wonderful exotic specialties and marvelous local products that after much labor, finally reach our guests.

Its not cheap to eat here (135 Euro/190 American) but I think its a relative bargain. You can easily spend that on much less and in places which put far less love and care into this. So part of my first philosophical eye opening was realizing that in this new environment, the things which I had always considered Paramount and equated with success, were no longer the priorities. This is a place to learn, to discover, to question, but none the less, to shed oneself of the glasses that we wear in the regular world and seek a different kind of enlightenment. In this sense, even as a stage here at Mugaritz, I am a guest and I am extended the same opportunity a diner here is. One can come here, have a meal and move on. Or one can come here to explore and pontificate about things greater than that.

To some this could just be another gastronomic stamp in their culinary passports, a notch on the belt if you will, but to others, and to myself to a degree this is becoming a monastery of not only cuisine but philosophy and life. To come here is a pilgrimage to Andoni, to some its to see the chef, but to others its to see the wunderkind thinker who boldly goes where few have before. A few years ago Andoni was invited to do a dinner in Madrid for a panel of esteemed chefs and food people from around the world as part of a gastro-symposium or something. He prepared this grand feast for them, and just before the first course came out to the dining room to speak with the guests. As their plates were delivered synchronistically, he began to speak. He told the guests that their first course would be paired with one of the most increasingly rare and precious elements known to man, and that they were very fortunate to all be able to share this "thing" in such an experience with one another. He then poured all of the guests a glass of water. He continued on to tell them that in the coming years one of the most essential and precious things known to man would become less and less available, especially to those to whom it represents one of the few elements in their sustainability. However, champagne will still be champagne, a luxury good for the few who can afford and appreciate it.

Its hearing things like that, reading things like that and seeing things like that have really had an impact on me. I could have written pages and pages about working during Gastronomika Congress in San Sebastian, when every single day and night the dining room was peppered with the people whose name I could spell backwards and view as icons in this culinary world. Instead I will tell you that the climactic moment for me came when Andoni gathered the troops before service one evening to discuss a group of VIP's who would be joining us. I thought he was going to highlight the preferences of the 4 VIP chefs all dining separately who are ranked amongst the top 100 in the world. Instead, he wanted to tell us about a chef named Hiroyoshi Ishida from a restaurant in Tokyo named Mibu who, with his entire restaurant staff, was dining with us that evening. He told us how Ishida was one of the most graceful and religious chefs/cooks alive. A practitioner, nay a legend, of Kaseiki cuisine, Ishida has only six seats at his restaurant. To him, cuisine is an art and craft of respect and humility. Andoni called him a butterfly, a flower, and someone who is very vulnerable to the harsh worlds we have come to know but that he has been insulated from. His visit to the kitchen would be more than a photo-op or a simple thank you, it would be an ceremonious homage to be taken very seriously by everyone involved. Chef cared about the great culinary titans lurking the dining room, but more importantly, he wanted to embrace the one who would have the most cerebral reference to the experience of Mugaritz.

I know that the business of food and drink is still something that pumps my heart, but maybe in this too there is a higher lesson to be learned. We are still talking about food here, and Im not naive enough to elevate this to some kind of god-discovering biblical event for myself, but an elevated awareness and enlightened philosophy make one do exactly what I set out here to do, to think....

Cheers.

Greg

Pais Vasco

2009-11-10T11:42:00.003-05:00

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

2009-11-10T11:38:00.000-05:00

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

2009-08-22T12:39:00.002-04:00

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

2009-07-04T13:07:00.002-04:00

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)...

2009-05-22T15:59:00.004-04:00

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!

2009-03-28T09:10:00.003-04:00

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

2008-06-25T01:11:00.005-04:00

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