Book Excerpt
White House
juice. I thought, What if I did the
same thing with hearts of celery?
My Dad helped me find four dozen of
them, all the same small size. For a
White House Christmas party, I
braised them in chicken stock with
peppercorn, bay leaf, and some fresh
thyme till they were nice and tender,
then took them out of that liquid
and let them cool. Then I browned
them in butter and seasoned them
with salt and pepper — and they
were delicious. I used this local
ingredient, which I’d never seen
anyone cook, and I incorporated it
into a French idea. Now I had created
something unique, which was
inspired from cooking braised
endives in France.
I also like to take another ingredient
very popular in France, celeriac (celery
root), purée it, and fold it into a
potato purée — one part celeriac to
two parts potato. This gives a potato
purée with a celery-root flavor. I pipe
that onto the plate and then put the
piece of browned heart of celery, cut
in half, up against that celeriac purée.
What a great combination! It was
entirely my idea, but once again, that
innovative menu item never would
have come about if I hadn’t had the
French experience of braising endives.
As things turned out, I couldn’t
have asked for a better script in
the progression of things from my
time in France. I didn’t realize at
the time, but I was making a natural
progression by starting to work in
a bistro-type setting and getting
to know the fundamentals of French
cooking. This enabled me to move up
to Chez Camille, which was a quality
restaurant, and then I learned a
whole new level of service and
cuisine at Bernard Loiseau’s Hotel
de la Côte d’Or, where I learned the
importance of creating a “whole
dining experience” for your diners.
If I had started out in a two-star
Michelin restaurant when I first went
to France, I doubt that I would have
gained as much out of it as I did by
starting in a bistro and slowly
working my way up.
Then, finally, my little detour to
Brittany, in the west of France, gave
another new learning experience —
a whole new style of regional
cooking. The area was a big farming
community, and we were also close
to the ocean, so it was fascinating
to see how people used all the
ingredients that were available
there. I remember looking up and, for
miles, all I could see were fields of
artichokes. I love artichokes; they’re
one of my favorite vegetables. The
chef at that place used to come back
from the farmers’ market with a
huge sack full of artichokes and we’d
just try different things with them.
Ironically, when I headed to Paris at
the start of my final trip out of
France, it was a guy driving a huge
artichoke truck who gave me a ride.
The “Not-too-French”
French Chef
When I returned to the States in
November 1986, I picked up casual
work here and there while looking
around for something long-term.
As Christmas approached, I received
a firm offer from a high-end resort
in St. Croix, US Virgin Islands. As
the Pennsylvania winter set in, the
idea of working in the Caribbean
sounded irresistible.
Here was another opportunity to
work with fresh regional produce.
And, of course, the Caribbean
produce was a lot different from
what I had been working with in
France. The fresh local seafood
specialties included spiny lobster,
mahi mahi, kingfish, and red
snapper; conch is popular in the
region and we would do conch
fritters and conch chowder. Some
other local items included in our
island cuisine were curried goat,
mangoes, black beans, papaya,
coconut and bananas.
Work in St. Croix was enjoyable,
as was island life, but the job was
seasonal, and the resort closed down
during the hot summer months, so I
wrapped it up in June, enjoyed one
last week of holiday in the islands,
then packed up to head north again.
As I made arrangements to return to
Lancaster, it struck me that I could
take an extra day or two to visit my
brother, a student at Loyola
University in Baltimore, Maryland,
so I flew into DC, hoping to spend
at least an evening with him.
It was midmorning when I arrived
in Washington, so I had a day to kill.
I decided to just wander around
town and see what I could find —
maybe check out what kind of job
opportunities there might be. I even
walked up to the front of the White
House and asked the guards how a
person would apply for a job there!
I wanted to see some of Washington’s
famous restaurants and hotels, like
Jean-Louis at Watergate, and Maison
Blanche. I visited where I could,
and then remembered another
Washington restaurant I’d heard
of — the Four Ways, which operated
in the historic Fraser Mansion at 20th
and R Streets — just a few minutes’
walk away! I arrived at the Four Ways
around two thirty in the afternoon
— well after the noontime rush. The
19th-century mansion was beautiful.
The maître d’ approached me and
said, “Can I help you?”
“Yes. I wonder if you’re looking for
any chefs right now.”
“Do you have papers?”
I handed him my résumé, and he
disappeared into the kitchen. He
returned with the chef, who
introduced himself as Chef Jean
Ruiz and asked how I’d heard about
the Four Ways. To keep things
simple, I answered casually, “Oh,
I was just walking by.”
Jean invited me to sit down in the
bar with him as he looked over my
résumé. As we discussed my
background, I learned that he was
French-Belgian and was familiar with
some of the places in France where
I’d worked. One in particular caught
his eye: “Oh, you worked at Bernard’s
place in Saulieu!”
He knew Bernard Loiseau at the
Hotel de la Côte d’Or in Burgundy.
“Man,” he said, “I’d love to have you
come work with me full time, but
right now I only need a part-timer.”
He paused a moment, then said, “I’ll
tell you what: if you’ll work with me
through the rest of the summer, I’ll
give you the banquet-chef position
in September when we get busy.”
I didn’t have to think long about
this offer, so I accepted: “Sounds
good to me!”
It seemed unbelievable — I’d been
in Washington only a few hours. I
had arrived after ten