Have Blade Will Travel: The adventures of a traveling chef (20 page)

However, when a unique, contemporary style is executed on a foundation of Classical Cuisine, it can be quite excellent.  Thomas Keller of Yountville, California’s French Laundry fame remains one of the very best innovators in this realm. 
Kiyomi Mikuni, who studied for many years under French great Alain Chapel (a hot-headed screamer who died in 1990 from a stroke at the age of 53), is another master innovator, whose namesake restaurant in Tokyo features what he calls "cuisine spontanée."  
By comparison, the food of Ferran Adrià, the madcap showman behind Barcelona’s’ internationally-celebrated, now closed El Bulli.  Adrià did not adhere to Classical Western roots nor to any common sense approach to cuisine –  his food was as zany and chaotic as he was. 
This is perfectly acceptable, as long as one is aware of what one is going to get when dining at El Bulli – a blend of the wacky with some live performance and plenty of shocking food combinations.

But I am a classicist, and become all the more so with each passing day.  Thus the Escoffier Room menus created by Peter van Erp in 1973, represent one of the great expressions of Classical Cuisine in the late 20
^th
-century, and they deserve to be kept alive for future generations of chefs and cooks.  (See Appendix A for a list of van Erp menus from the Escoffier Room kitchen, circa 1973).  An example follows:

Les Hors d’Oeuvres

Avocado Norvégienne / Crème Argenteuil

Artichauts Vinaigrette / Hareng à la Crème

Cocktail Fruits de Mer / Crevettes au Pernod

Les Entrées

Homard à l’Américaine

Poulet Sauté Madras

Escalope de Veau Chasseur

Emincée de Boeuf Stroganoff, Riz Sauvage

Choux-fleurs Polonaise / Endive de Bruxelles au gratin

Pommes Duchesse / Pommes Bataille

Broccoli Frais, Hollandaise / Petits Pois à la Française

Les Desserts

Crêpes Normande / Orange en Surprise

Soufflé au Chartreuse / Pudding Diplomat

― ● ―

Among van Erp’s protégés was Harriet Reilly – Miss Harriet, as we affectionately called her – whom I had initially met at the Culinary Institute in 1972-1973, where she had taught French Culinary Terminology.  Van Erp was very keen on her joining his young brigade in the Escoffier Room kitchen, but Miss Harriet lacked the patience and focus for endless hours and back-to-back days in a production kitchen, no matter how great the cuisine.  Frankly, I never blamed her for her lack of interest in that kitchen – it just wasn’t the right place for her skills.  Yet it was sad for me, for I had had a glimpse of the extraordinary passion for food, drink and life that Harriet embodied, and she never failed to surprise me with her insights fueled by by that passion and understanding of food and gastronomy.  That she had graduated from the L’École Hotelière in Paris, and was fluent in both French and Spanish only added to her charisma.   

The following summer Harriet landed a job at the kitchen at Mashomack, a 2,100 acre wildlife preserve that occupied one-third of Shelter Island.  Harriet should have been the Chef de cuisine, but instead she was hired as an all-purpose staff member, while the designated chef was Jean Arundel – an arrogant Frenchman with a tendency to use canned vegetables and other stupid shortcuts.  It was easy to see that Harriet did not like the disparity of that situation – she could cook circles around that stupid Frenchman.  I remember meeting him for the first time, and he certainly had the look of a French chef, handlebar moustache and all, but his intellect and character was the size and caliber of the tinned peas he served with
Roast Leg of Lamb, Jardinière
. 

During one of my visits there, Arundel felt a need to brag about the power of his palate and to show what a manly-man he was.  So he filled a teaspoon with Tabasco sauce, drank it down in one shot, and announced, “You zee, it does nusing to me,” he bragged.  And I thought to myself, “You zee, you ‘ave proved zat you air an air-o-gant schmuck.”

The last time I saw Ms. Harriet was in 1987, when the private yacht I was working on berthed at the 23
^rd
Street Marina in New York City.  I telephoned her, and invited her over for a visit, though before I had a chance to spend some quality time with her, she dashed off-board and fled down the walkway out into the city night.  I was used to that kind of erratic behavior on her part, and apologized to my crewmates: “She always was a bit unpredictable.  It’s part of her charm,” said I, as my eyes rolled a full circle. 

One of van Erp’s other notable protégés was Carol Peck, né Pidorodecki, who today owns and operates The Good News Café in Woodbury, Connecticut.  Peck was always solid and dependable, and a born chef.  If there is anyone who carries the mantle of the legacy of van Erp it is she.  The culinary business is a tough one, and Peck has shown she has the mettle to maintain a presence in it, now going on close to 40 years.  She and her partner Bernard Jarrier also host several gastronomic trips to Provence each year.  (See: www.saveurfrance.com)

Greg Foster was one other student among that coterie, and he also had potential.  But the size of his ego matched that of van Erp’s, and he was certain that he would be better off out on his own.  I crossed paths with him in Sarasota, Florida in 1999, while I working on a private yacht berthed at Long Boat Key.  Like so many before him, Foster had put on a lot of weight, was drinking like an alcoholic, and was clearly beyond burn-out and overdue for a change of career.

Sandy D'amatto was another one of the chef’s favorites, and he would later own two successful restaurant operations in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.  I tracked him down in recent years, but he had not maintained contact with his mentors – an unfortunate display of disloyalty I have seen among many culinarians, much to my dismay. 

There was a time when Beverly Barbour, the wife of Henry Ogden Barbour – who had served for two years as president of the Culinary Institute – had recognized the wealth of information and experience that van Erp represented, and frequently urged van Erp to begin writing down his recipes.  But van Erp was very much old school, and he said to me once, “You cannot put all that culinary knowledge and experience in between the covers of a book.  You have to learn by doing.”

He was right, to a point, but he had little idea of how the cookbook publishing business would explode in the years to come.  It was a great opportunity for him to preserve all his knowledge and experience for future generations of culinarians, but as with many other opportunities, van Erp never understood what was staring him in the face. 

By contrast, Albert Stockli, the Swiss chef who was instrumental in starting up Restaurant Associates, Inc., published a cookbook in 1976.  The book was a birthday gift from my mom and it remains one of the best recipe collections I own – in spite of the fact that it does not have a single color photo.  But Stockli was a chef’s chef, who like van Erp was smart, brilliant in the kitchen, and saddled with emotional issues that would ultimately be his downfall.  Still, there is a recipe for
Vin Blanc Sapphire
, a wine-based Bavarian Cream that I have served as a White Wine Mousse many times over the years – and it is a recipe that is worth the entire book alone.

Stockli went on to open the Stonehenge Inn, in Ridgefield, CT – which remains in operation today - and later became involved in the dynamic Restaurant Associates in the New York City area.  Sadly, downfall was alcohol, which he enjoyed to excess, and for which he paid the ultimate price, dying at the age of fifty from cirrhosis of the liver.  In 1984, entrepreneur Douglas Seville purchased the Stonehenge Inn from Stockli’s widow, and it is still in operation today.  (
www.stonehengeinn-ct.com/index.html
)

 
― ● ―

Vin Blanc Sapphire

½ bottle & 1 cup (240 mL) dry white wine

¾ cup (180 mL) sugar

juice of 3 oranges and ½ lemon

2 tablespoons (30 mL) gelatin

2 cups (480 mL) cream, whipped

• Dissolve the sugar in half the wine.  Add the juices. 
  
• Stir the gelatin into the other cup of wine, and heat until dissolved.  Add to the original wine, blend, and allow to cool to room temperature.
  
• Fold in the whipped cream, pour into martini or wine glasses, and refrigerate until ready to serve. 
  
• Serve garnished with whipped cream, nutmeg, and mint, or with a garnish of fresh fruit.
  

 
― ● ―

As for Restaurant Associates, the two men responsible for its creation were Jerome Brody and Joseph H. Baum.  Brody was born in Manhattan in 1922, the son of a well-to-do family, who later married Grace Wechsler, the daughter of coffee importer Abraham F. Wechsler. After a stint in the Air Force during WW II, he enrolled in Columbia Law School but was sidetracked when his father-in-law asked for his assistance with his coffee business, which was struggling after three top executives died in succession.  Wechsler had no background in restaurants, but had picked up “Riker's,” a 30-year old chain of underperforming coffee shops as payment for a debt.  He put Brody in charge of Riker's Restaurant Associates, who took steps to turn the chain around.  His first concession contract was with the Mitchell Air Force Base on Long Island, followed by the employees' cafeteria at the Ohrbach's department store in Manhattan, and the food concession at Newark Airport. 

Joe Baum, born in 1920 in Saratoga Springs, N.Y., grew up in the Hospitality Industry, as his parents operated a seasonal hotel there.  Baum graduated from Cornell University in 1943 with a degree in Hotel Administration, and over the next decade gained experience in all aspects of food service management.  This background served him well, particularly when Brody hired him in 1953 to introduce luxury dining at the Newark airport terminal.  The restaurant was named The Newarker.

Baum hired classically-trained Swiss chef Albert Stockli to develop the menu, and invested in fine china and furnishings.  Baum also increased portions extravagantly – serving oysters so large they had to be eaten with a knife and fork; adding a seventh oyster on a separate plate for orders of a half-dozen; and adding a third claw to lobster dishes.  Baum was the first to place a sparkler on a birthday cake, and had a penchant for setting dishes on fire.  As he once explained, "The customers like to see things on fire, or accompanied by fiery props, and it doesn't hurt the food that much."  Baum exhibited so much flair that he earned the moniker, "the Cecille B. DeMille of restaurateurs."

In spite of The Newarker losing $25,000 its first year, Baum and Stockli continued to make improvements to the menu, and after three years it became profitable, grossing $3-million annually.  Amazingly, 90-percent of the 1,000 meals served by the Newarker each day were to non-travelers, and the restaurant earned half as much as the entire Riker's chain.

Brody continued to grow the concession business, winning contracts on the New York State Thruway from Syracuse-to-Buffalo.  After his success with The Newarker – he also began developing theme restaurants –which would eventually make the company famous.  In 1955, Brody appointed Baum to head RA's specialty restaurant division, and together they took on their next project – the money-losing Hawaiian Room in Manhattan's Hotel Lexington – a club that had once been a city hot spot.  They completely transformed the Hawaiian Room, ultimately returning it to popularity and financial success. 

In 1957 RA opened their first theme restaurant on the ground floor of the United States Rubber Company Building in Rockefeller Center.  The operation was called the Forum of the Twelve Caesars, and is still talked about to this day.  The upscale Forum opened in 1957 and quickly became a magnet for corporate and media leaders.  The ambiance invoked ancient Egypt, with servers wearing togas and wine buckets fashioned into centurion helmets.  The menu featured items such as
Belgic Pâté with Wild Boar, Sauce of Damascus Plums
,
Goose Germanicus
and
Pheasant of the Golden House on a Silver Shield of Gilded Plumage Roasted with an Exquisite Sauce
.  In addition, so many of the dishes were flambéed that the air conditioning system had to be upgraded.

Other RA restaurants in Manhattan would follow in the late 1950s, aided by James Beard and Julia Child, hired by Baum to consult on the menus.  There was the
La Fonda del Sol
, a Latin-themed restaurant on the ground floor of the Time and Life Building;
Tavern on the Green
, occupying a precious slice of Central Park, featuring panoramic windows to allow diners to enjoy a view of trees strung with thousands of white lights – and still in operation today.  There was
The Brasserie
, employing a Paris bistro theme and becoming the best known 24-hour restaurant in the world, attracting an impressive array of athletes, movie stars, and royalty.  RA also acquired a theatre district restaurant,
Mamma Leone's
, and turned it into a perennial cash cow.  But the crowning achievement of RA in this period came with the 1959 opening of
The Four Seasons
, a three-level restaurant in the Seagram's Building.  According to most accounts Baum named the restaurant after a haiku collection he had read.  His inspiration was to create a restaurant that would change with the seasons, so that every three months the menu, color scheme, and foliage would be replaced. 

Some RA colleagues felt that Brody did not receive as much credit as he deserved for the development of the Four Seasons and RA's other famous eateries, but in fact his down-to-earth management style was the perfect complement to the flamboyant and creative Baum.  Whatever the truth of the story, there was little debate about the influence of the Four Seasons in the restaurant industry – and the restaurant's Grill Room that epitomized New York's "power lunch."

In the 1960s, at the peak of its reputation, RA went public, although there were some bumps in the road ahead.  Brody divorced his wife in 1963, after which his father-in-law ejected him from the company.  Joe Baum took over as president, and the company continued to prosper – taking over the dining at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, opening two restaurants at the 1964 World’s Fair, and launching
Zum Zum
– a chain of sausage shops.  In 1965 RA operated 130 restaurants and foodservice operations around the world, and the value of its stock topped out at $47 per share.