I first got really intersted in Eric Ripert’s restaurant when
reading "On the line", a book about daily operations at Le Bernardin, the New York Times 4-starred rated establishment. They also have 3-michelin stars... No biggie.
What appealed to me most was
the emphasis of freshness and quality. Sauces… like
20 of them, are done daily. The book creates enough inspiration to give someone an aneurism. Their seafood is obviously
unmatched so there I was with a schoolyard crush when I reached out to Exec. Chef Chris Muller. Won't lie, I pretty much man-crushed all over the email so
he would give me the opportunity to stage at Le Bernardin. A week later I heard back; they would love to
have me (*gasps!) but they can only do Saturdays.
Come at 2pm, report to security, bring your own everything. Wicked.
They are located at Rockefeller Center and to get to the
kitchen is hilarious. First, find the
security door which is on the side of the high-rise building. Go through, find someone who looks like they
have dealt with intimidated stagiaires before (security). They will already have your name. Sorry, can’t show up on a random Saturday
and work, you need a reso to stage
here. The security will acknowledge your
existence, then lead you into what I only assume is an organized labyrinth of
underground hamster tunnels to confuse anyone from ever trying to sneak in on their own. Security will drop you off
into the butcher area for Le Bernardin.
At this point you are a guppy with the sharks. You better be a strong swimmer.
I love walking into restaurants as the new guy. Most
cooks assume you’re looking to work there when you're staging so their true colours show right off the bat. Occasionally you get younger cooks (usually 1 or 2 years out of culinary school) who
puff out their chests when someone new enters the kitchen. It’s fun to watch. They want instant respect. These types are never the Chef or anyone really higher then CDP. Its usually just a kid who will burn out
in a couple years because he hates his life. I
am like a pig in mud dealing with them. While I get a
little anxious to perform to my own standards and try not to embarrass myself, I am not there looking for a job. I am there to help, work for free, and learn. I do not know you, you do not know me, so expect to receive and give a professional level of respect. We are after-all, hospitality specialist before we're cooks. I find those in a kitchen who demand respect without earning it to be contradictory to the purpose of our whole profession. Hence, I find them incredibly amusing
both to witness, and then to passively screw with.
I only mention it because as soon as I entered the kitchen,
a skinny kid, 10 years my junior-who had no clue who I was, yelled for me to
move out of his way and that I should know better.
Not a problem. There on out I referred to him as “Chef” and asked him questions no cook wants to be called out on around his peers. ("Chef, what's the reasoning for not using a cutting board when dicing that pepper?").
The kitchen itself is utterly unique. The main line is
really made up of three parallel stations in which each cook has a place during
service. Confused? Sure, here’s what I mean. On the right side we start on cold apps ("Almost Raw"). There are nine different cold apps on the menu, nine fridges to hold the M.E.P. and nine cooks to handle the orders. One cook, one
plate. There are two scheduled seatings
on a typical night, so the nine cooks begin in cold apps. When the rush there ends, all nine cooks move to the next rush on hot apps ("Barely Touched"). This
is followed by the migration of stressed out but still happy cooks to fire the mains ("Lightly Cooked"). From a gawking spectator's point of view, its cool to see how
they keep the flow so smooth when they move all the way across the kitchen during service.
Before service, I helped cooks with their prep on different
stations, getting the chance to talk about their products and being sure to taste anything I deemed interesting (Octopus a la plancha!!!). Overall the
cooks are really great. Most will go on
to big things in the industry and just a couple will vanish (“Chef, did you want
that cream sauce at a rapid boil?”).
Most impressive were the sauces. The saucier gave me a formal tour of his
station and a breakdown of how he goes about it. It’s quite genius. This kid’s palette is never going to be
tested to the extent it is done now at Le Bernardin. I really envied him. All sauces are served french style because they
don’t really screw around with the viscosity.
It’s all very loose and 100% about the flavour. The taste and seasonings were perfectly
rounded.
The other highlight was to finally see the famous Tuna & Foie Gras Carpaccio dish in person. I
have read about it, and I have even put my own version on a menu once,
but now I got to see and experience how they do the original. It was better than mine. I am not sure how they manage to produce a
Tuna Carpaccio with perfectly smooth texture, but I know now how they do the
foie underneath it and finish the plate. Its knowledge I will always keep inside my
pants.
Overall, it was a very insightful night, irreplaceable in the experience and I am a better cook for being there. You want to learn seafood, sauces, and service, go to Le Bernardin. Thank you to Executive Chef Chris Muller, Chef de Cusine Eric Gestel, and the multitude of fantastic cooks for letting me hangout and who clearly showcase what makes them and their product world renowned.
FYI, after roasting gigantor lobster tails, blanch them in boiling water for 30 seconds. That will insure they do not stick to the shell.
-Jerek
No comments:
Post a Comment