A Journey from Before to After in the Gulf

Spending time with family is always refreshing.  When life consists of a work-home-work-home eternity, and the hours eventually stretch into months, there is nothing like being surrounded by loving and supportive people at least for a few days at a stretch.  Amidst one such precious getaway, I had the opportunity to hit the wide open bays of Padre Island, TX for an afternoon and found some beautiful trout out looking for a bite.

Captain 'Ron' was nice enough to show us the sweet spots and we brought in several nice keepers despite massive winds that had the Gulf heaving offshore enough to keep us in the bay.  I can't describe the freedom to anyone who hasn't been there, out in the salt on a lovely 86 degree mid-morning, rockin' to the beat of the waves against the motor, cold beer getting warm fast and still tasting like the sweat off a mermaid's breast...divine!  And even reeling in a little perch can be exciting for those of us who don't have the luxury of doing this every day, not to mention a 26" speckled trout!



South Texas is magical when juxtaposed with the alleys and subway tunnels of New York City.  Of course, New York has its own magic and we can all attest to that who have donned the shrouds of her shadowy sunrise and been lulled to sleep by her siren's song (pun intended)...but Texas, oh sweet Texas!  There is something to be known about these humble people filled with love and adoration and coated with a sticky layer of gruff thistles and brush.  Our captain was a solid Texas fisherman, born in Houston and now permanently vacationing in the bosom of the Great State: 'The Valley'.  Arriving on the boat, he was straight to business - in fact, the previous night he asked more than twice if we were sure we would make a 9am dock call, and upon his third inquiry, informed us that we would be receiving his wake up call at 8:30...and that we did!

BEFORE

AFTER

After cleaning our catch, we met with Ron at a local restaurant where we had our fresh catch cooked right then and there to our delight and sampled one of the Gulf's greatest bounties:  the mystical Gulf Oyster.  Being a part of the whole process of one's meal is an experience that I think more Americans should enjoy on a regular basis.  There is something deeply nourishing about the food that you just caught, respectfully dispatched and then cooked not 20 minutes later (not to say we weren't sampling the provisions as soon as they were cut...we are certainly not squeamish about raw foods from the wild).  I would love to see more Americans becoming more in touch with their food in general and this is certainly a fun way to go about it.

I'm glad we decided to go ahead as we thought it may have been a bit steep to pay what we were asked to pay for a half-day trip into the bay.  Thanks to Mark Musatto at Airline Seafood in Houston for the perspective and advice, I miss you up here in NY, bro!  As an aside, and regarding the character of Texans in general, I would just like to mention that we had not paid Ron for the trip, proceeded to get in separate vehicles and agreed to meet at the restaurant to settle up.  I can't see this happening in many places on this vast planet's surface...take from that what you will.

Fish is becoming more and more of a love of mine, probably inherited from my grandfather Lee Grandison Wiley, who was a sea-faring man for his whole life.  I have myriad fond memories of trips to Galveston, boloney sandwiches (soggy), cans of Big-K grape soda (dented, and slightly rusty), triscuits and cheese whiz (still delicious) and me and my grandpa not catching a damned thing all day.  Those were the formative days of my youth, looking back.  Days that I didn't realize the value of even remotely until now, when we would get back to his Galveston apartment complex, sun-drained and red as Valentine's candies and Christmas ribbons.  Just enough daylight left for a dip in the pool, an old fashioned for him and an ice-cold country time lemonade for me...wow...that was intense.

This last foray into those salty Gulf waters was intense as well.  After passing 20 or more years since those early times, I have a fair amount of perspective, fair enough to see the value of half a day on a fishing boat with a couple of good ol' boys, mixing the spray of the mid-morning wake with the mist off a cold can of Bud Light, bouncing to the rhythm of the big blue heart of the world, squinting into the sun and looking for the sweet spot.  I think we found it, y'all.  I'm sure we did.

Paths We Take II - Transitions Into Clarity

 I worked with John Smith at Cullen's in Clear Lake, TX for a time then hired him later when I was at Yelapa.  We made some kind of bond and have managed to keep in touch.  I asked John to share his story because I think that 'industry' people will be able to identify and hopefully get some benefit from these types of accounts.  We'll keep these up as the Order of the Chef continues to grow.  Please let us know your thoughts.  
Thank you, and (as John would say) Namaste.

...trailing off from Part I of this series, the story of a young man riding the restaurant merry-go-round continues as he decides that travel may lead him to a new place...

...West, where I knew nothing or anyone, and better than that no one had heard of me either. And thus started my tour as river-guide/camp-chef.  That lasted a season.  A non-nudity clause was introduced into the employee handbook, as well as another adressing non-fraternization with clients. I had made my mark.  Again.  So a short 18 hour bus ride back to Houston it was.  Again.  

A short jaunt to Boston.  To Colorado.  Then out of nowhere it was 2006.  And with my "charm" and "wit" I somehow landed a job at a stained glass collage of various, now defunct eateries back in the Houston medical center. And go-figure, by sheer coincidence they were owned by the same chef I started with ten years prior, back in 1996.  He, of course, didn't run the show. That was left up to the hands of 'Sanchez' Lopez.  Who, after hearing my fantastical story of travel and pseudo cookery, promptly hired me as his sous chef. Not only for one of the restaurants, but four of them.

My big break, I thought, and it actually was.  Just not a break for fame or fortune.  It was a break for the beginning of a path that I continue to this day.  It took about a week for chef to realize that I had talent, a work ethic, and a small amount of finesse, when I was sober, which started to be less and less often.  Yet he stuck with me.  He never stopped pushing me to learn techniques that I either had forgotten or never learned when I should have.  He began, upon looking back now, to show me what integrity and honesty and standards were.

Then, as I always seemed to do when there was any sign of success, I quit.  I thought we were done. Until three weeks later when he called me back to come work for him again.  I didn't stay long the second time either.  Yet, the seeds were planted. Watered.  Had begun to sprout.  I took some time off - out of the restaurants.To be precise, I took two years.  My desire and love of cooking never waivered.  My return in 2008 found me with a renewed sense of purpose and drive along with a new found sobriety.  

I started out again as the AGM of a corporate Mexican fast casual restaurant. That worked out for a very short time.  Not due to any slight of mine, rather due to the fact that three years earlier that sprout had become a leafed stalk.  A sapling.  And running 17 year olds to the point of passing out was not my idea of fun.  Also, in my spare time I was reading and making anything and everything I could get my hands on in attempt to get my style and chops back from being gone so long.  

Then came Yelapa, and the auspicious reconnection with an old/new chef/beginning friend...

 

Paths We Take - The Tale of A Wayward Saint

I worked with John Smith at Cullen's in Clear Lake, TX for a time then hired him later when I was at Yelapa.  We made some kind of bond and have managed to keep in touch.  I asked John to share his story because I think that 'industry' people will be able to identify and hopefully get some benefit from these types of accounts.  We'll keep these up as the Order of the Chef continues to grow.  Please let us know your thoughts.  

Thank you, and (as John would say) Namaste.

In 1994 Hugo Ortega walked me by the hand into HCC culinary dept. and introduced me to the chef instructor Charles Pyle.  That was the beginning of the beginning of my love of all things relating to food production...

Granted at that point, I was already a seasoned server that hung out more in the kitchen than than at my tables and, saw the wee beginnings of a fixation on whiskey, women, and late nights. Never did I once call in from the all night debauchery that ensued, a point of pride I carried with me for a long time-until I learned better. 

After a bit of cursory training and basic skills gained at the culinary department of said community college (all of which I felt beneath me, since I had already surpassed most in my class, just from having been in the industry for 7 plus years at that time) I had no idea what was in store for me. I found out the hard way that it was to be years of being beaten down by some of the top chefs in the city at that time-the names will remain with me so as not to embarrass or, perhaps more importantly, piss them off (again).  Even through the bitter years, their ways of instruction led me to where I am today, and for this I am forever indebted to them. 

Whether it be throwing sauté pans at my head, or wishing death upon me for being a minute late on a side item or entree, I still hadn't been broken. More on that later. It is not a good thing for an aspiring cook to go unbroken. It's a must that somewhere along the early path of a line cook that it happens. Looking back, it teaches discipline, focus, and a drive to become better. So, feeling stagnated in that arena of the restaurant, I made the decision to go back to the FOH.  

My decision was mainly due to the fact that at this point, seven years later, my drinking had turned its focus to other not so healthy "relaxation tools", which by nature, was the complete opposite of what the intended use for such substances was.  The internal lie had begun.  And the fact was that cash in hand every night was easier than cash every two weeks for procurement of what were at the time, necessary ingredients to function. 

From Hugo and serving food I bounced around from job to job. Playing in a band that got signed, so that pulled me even further down the scale with my original goal of being a good cook. And added to the drinking and other accompaniments that in my mind seemed to go along with the alcohol and lifestyle of a musician.  In '02, I decided that It was time to get back to the original profession of love that had brought me so much joy originally.  So, I headed to Dallas and worked with Tim Byres at Standard 2706 on Elm street, across from The Green Room and Trees.  

Chef drove me hard, he saw my potential and worked very hard to get me to see it as well.  Unfortunately, I didn't, or couldn't at that time. So, after a write-up in Texas Monthly about a dressing/salad that I had designed, and did not realize that when under the chef, that it was actually HIS food, I left. Once again, having not being broken, I felt slighted, and my ego raised its ugly head, and I and headed back to Houston again.  

Almost immediately I went to work at furthering my addiction for alcohol, and cocaine at this point, and the knowledge I had gained in Dallas I used to show my peers how "good" I had become.  Which was a farce. The little I had gained at Standard I used to feed my ego and once again feel "better than" my colleagues, only because I felt like a piece of spit shined shit on the inside. 

Of course my colleagues at the time of my return from Dallas consisted of a few 'base-head' cooks and like-minded servers. Not a whole lot of expanding each others professional aptitude, to say the least. With that in mind, I once again returned to the FOH because I had developed, over the past few years, the art of manipulating people. Not only the patrons of the establishments I happened to work at, the people I worked with, the management I worked for, but also myself, into believing any and all sorts of self created bullshit. I think I killed off five grandmothers, four sisters, two mothers, had fifteen car accidents - in short, I was a real piece of work. No one trusted me, including myself. Bearing this in mind. I headed out West.

STAY TUNED FOR CHAPTER 2...

The City Life

I LOVE NEW YORK.

Sometimes its just pandered about sloaganishly as if the city were somehow coddled by the comfort that its citizens care.  Sometimes its genuine.  Of course, one can live anywhere and find it to be a wonderful or a horrible place depending upon that person's general inward satisfaction with life.  Its easy to find plethoras of issues within such a myriad wonderland as is this little wing of our universal fractal.

Its a hard city.

Sometimes, especially in the winter (which seems to have lost its general temerity this season), I feel a microscopic web like the veins of a dragonfly's wings spreading across and through my bones when I wake up and I have to get back to work after 4 hours sleep and 2 hours commute through cold, wet streets.  Walking, standing, waiting on concrete waiting blocks; and my days off are spent in an apartment lucky enough to have one or two windows which filter what little light trickles down the sides of the snowy cloud banks into a grey courtyard of concrete and air handlers and through a layer of solidified smog stuck to their once tranquil and luminescent surfaces. I love New York.

I love New York because she forces the positive out of people in such a way that only the truly stalwart of spirit are left behind and the city brims with greatness all the way to its industrial shorelines because the only people who actually enjoy living here are natural winners.  Competition is deadly.

I love New York because she leaves you no choice.  "Take me as I am, you miserable bastard," she says, "because I am a city generated from the purest fires of passion.  That is what makes you great."

One day, I'll leave this war zone of a city.  When I become complacent.  When I no longer have a drive to grow.  When I become satisfied with the view from the plateau that has become my life, then I'll quit New York.  Yet, even then I'll want a loft in the Financial District, a one bedroom in Tudor City or a little house in Bay Ridge with tenants who save me the attic apartment with a view of the harbor.  Heck, I'd even settle for a gritty studio in the middle of Brooklyn with a grey winters' concrete view.

I'll always take care of the city that has taken such good care of me because I'm sure that as long as I love New York, New York will love me too.

The Kitchen of Comfort

Believe it...  Sometimes its difficult to find a creative outlet as a professional chef.

sometimes its nice to just kick back and collapse on the floor

Don't get me wrong, I love what I do and I do it all the time, but sometimes the restaurant life gets a bit repetitive.  As chefs, most of our day is spent keeping up day to day operations and producing the same dishes, the same way, in the same kitchen and with (hopefully) the same staff.  We spend our time attending to the details that allow you and your spouse to go have an anniversary dinner where you can reminisce about how you fed this same chocolate cake to each other on your first date...how sweet.  Most of the crowd is after what we might call 'spaghetti and meatballs' cuisine, and they pay the bills so we feed them exactly what they want:

...awww

...and we get bored.

The 'Reality Dinner' series in Houston came from this idea that I get from the Japanese term omakase, which is like a customized tasting menu available in many quality Japanese restaurants.  My personal interpretation of omakase is as follows: "A series of dishes intended to establish a dialogue between chef and client in order to determine the 'perfect fit' for the palette and perhaps the health of the individual consuming the meal."

The first Reality Dinner was a menu based on a list of ingredients and was revealed to the diners course by course, chalked up on a blackboard by my GM as they came out.  Some were planned, some were surprises even to me and some were riffs on pre-decided themes.  To be sure, even the team of chefs helping to put this thing together had only a rough notion of what was happening...huddled around for weeks deciphering one of my sporadic ingredient lists riddled with cryptic notes, slashes and arrows.

It was an experiment at the time intended to figure out what drives people together, I wanted to see the reality of a dining experience up close, from all angles.  Why are we here eating this weird stuff that I  couldn't have identified had someone not told me what it was?  "I'm not sure why it tastes so good to everyone else, its just plain odd to me."  I wanted to reexamine the dining experience as something of a theatrical venue because I believe it has gone down that road a bit.  'Molecular Gastronomy' and 'micro-local' trends and people's newfound knowledge and temperaments that they come to the table with.  How do we reconcile the subjective experience of dining and the objective running of a restaurant whilst keeping everyone happy?

These dinners were a fantastic outlet for our more adventurous clients and for all of the staff as well, from bartenders to managers to kitchen staff, a place where everyone could both learn from and contribute to something greater than all of us.  Anyone who has participated in these types of events knows exactly the type of synergy I'm referring to.  Food has been very special to most of us in one way or another since the beginning of our collective history.  Wars have been fought over the stuff, families are bound together by food-centric traditions.

For many of us, food is comfort.

In continuing to study what it is that drives people to put certain things in their mouths other than sheer necessity, we're putting together a series of dinners to investigate the history and motivation behind "comfort food"...the 'Theatre of Comfort' dinner series.  We want to understand what makes the intimate experience of dining so special and where some of the crazy traditions and foods were born, what kept them alive through the years.  I posit that we will find a close connection to necessity and to the abundance of specific foods within specific localities that have laid a path for tradition's journey to the modern day.  We will put together a series of regional menus and study the history and lore surrounding food traditions from the area, pair appropriate music and engage a theatrical theme for each dinner.

Theme ideas include: The American South, Italy, Latin America, The Northeastern US, Eastern Europe and Russia, The Japanese, India, The Pacific Rim, and of course China.  Some of the menus will be up on my next post and we will keep updates coming revealing time and place, thematic notions, and sundry entertainments.  Comment for us on any suggestions, special requests, if you're interested in hosting one of the dinners or if you'd like to lend a hand in any way, let us know!

Angels Behind the Stainless Curtain

Just to pay tribute to some of the most important people around me these days.  Let us remember well these pillars of support from old mentors who led us the way to the ones who mop the floors and put away deliveries for us, to the ones taking the real heat on the line, to the joyous ones who bring light to the end of sometimes dreary days.  I thank you all, humbly for all manner of support.  Without any of you, this world would be...well...a whole hell of a lot tougher to take.  I love and appreciate all of you.

Some are always there, you just know.

Some run their asses off for you, even when they're tired to the bone.

Some contribute mountains of time.

Some have a big enough heart to contribute everything they can, even in adversity.

Some make you laugh.

Some will be there in the blink of an eye.

Some are your hands.

Some are your heart.

Some bring us all together.

Some make us proud.

Some feed our inspiration.

Some are foundations.

And some just know these things all too well.

Thanks, y'all!

The Discovery of a Chef

I believe that our nation's currently developing fascination with food is a sign that we are finally developing a culture of our own.  We have been around for over 200 years as a nation and, because of the entrepreneurial nature of our experiment, we have bent towards a reputation as masquerading mountebanks, cavalier capitalist cowboys and sponges for whatever culture serves us best momentarily and monetarily.  I believe we are growing out of this adolescent transience and emerging as fiery-eyed and battle-hardened young samurai with a burgeoning sense of identity and purpose.  Across time and culture, food has always been a defining factor of groups of people.  A way to tell what village you're from, what you put in your family's curry blend, how you tie your salumi, how long you soak your salted fish and with what, these are the things that signal who is family and who is foe.  Food is as vital to who we are and who we choose to be as sex or war.  It is a matter of life and death and we, as global citizens, are finally realizing that.  I hope.

I graduated from college with a philosophy degree in 2003.  Was supposed to take my LSATs and go to law school.  The family approved.  They would have given me a "free" ride because they supported these kinds of dreams and aspirations - after all, they were the ones dreaming them up.  I was sick.  My DNA donors lost their ranks because they no longer honored the moniker of family.  Thanks to a long time mentor named Charles Avants, who has far and away earned his rank, I went culinary-lock, stock and barrel.  My DNA donors rejected the assumption that in following one's bliss there is inherent and imminent success.  Of the living remnants, only my reluctant grandmother would prove truly assistant and I'm sure she would be beaming if she could be here now to beam.  Charles and my real family formed a support structure for me and will always exemplify how I want to raise my own.  The mission was set: use the culinary path to seek my enlightenment and to bring enlightenment to others.  I trailed off to New York in search of some magical land, streets paved in foie gras onto which shined lamppost rays of golden sauternes.

New York was the obvious choice for several reasons.  I had done a short stage (unpaid internship) in an amazing new Houston restaurant owned by Jean-Gorges Vongerichten who's worldwide operations are based in New York.  I had never even imagined food like that before.  Wow.  There were far more chefs whom I admired in New York at that time and they were setting trends and raising the bar higher there than anywhere else I could find.  I needed a huge fire under my ass if I was ever to have a chance at succeeding in this business and where better than the 'city that never sleeps'?  Logical reasons aside, I also felt this driving compulsion to go there.  Like some pied piper was blaring some lyrical melody in the core of the city and he somehow resonated its hypnotic rhythm all the way down south to the great state of Texas and lulled this southern gentleman into the streetlights.

Obviously New York will always hold a special place for me, although I can't see myself living here permanently.  It has brought me more lucky breaks than I can fathom including meeting here a woman who has impacted my life for the better in a most permanent way.  It has wandered me into many of its finest kitchens, even if just for a day.  It has hardened me against its streets of molten concrete in the summers, it has submerged me in its dank, rat-infested basement apartments and it has lifted me to the very pinnacle of nature's essence via perfect spontaneous views and burt sienna drenchings in autumn's leafy tears.

When I left China in 2008 I decided that Texas, rather than New York, would be the wisest choice as I was beginning to see family life as a plausible option, which concept I had not previously formed in my somewhat socially underdeveloped brain.  I spent the next three years looking for that plausible option.  By the time its potential became real I was already on to the next chapter of my adventure.  Back in the city of dreams.

Yelapa had been the culmination of many cultural culinary experiences including Texan, New Yorekan and Chinese.  I was blessed on many levels with a project to start from scratch with a minimal budget and no personal financial risk.  Score!  Rob put up the capital, Chuck and I did our respective parts to build the concept and an amazing team came together through an intense push of energy.  I hadn't worked that hard since my first days in the business and it was somehow invigorating at the same time as it was physically and emotionally draining.  We all poured our hearts into that place and it became a throbbing part of this young and vibrant restaurant movement that has now taken Houston by storm.

What an amazingly fertile ground we got into and at just the right time.  I was swept away by the accolades that came almost daily.  I began to really learn the value of people and also began to learn the true intimacy of cooking for them.  There are a ton of guys out there making amazing food, but I would venture that for most of you, there are only a select few who you allow the honor of making amazing food for you.  Cooking for others was a critical stumbling block for me until I got to Aurora.  Houston was very good to me, as good as I was to her at the very least, but she never brought the same luck as New York.  Somehow in Houston there were always strings.

Riccardo Buitoni and the Aurora/Emporio family have really tamed me somehow with their open and almost overbearing kindness.  The whole series of events since I arrived in New York on my second 'tour' has been really charmed by some new kind of freedom.  It is as if my doubts and insecurities are being scrubbed away at some angelic carwash and I'm being prepped for some cosmic auto show.  I feel truly blessed in a permanent way from the inside out (even though its things on the outside that seem to be doing the blessing).  I hope that my food reflects similar growth because then it will surely nurture those who really need it as it was always intended to.  The goal of cooking is to make people feel really well looked after and safe, for them to leave with a sense of peace and well being that they would go to their own mothers to find again.

And so here I am on the playground.  Throwing flavors around and doing my best to take care of all the people around me who take such good care of me. Thanks y'all and welcome to this Chef's Momentum.