...so, who is your hero/mentor/idol....? (long non-rant)

This is a question mainly directed at those who have run kitchens or are in the business but applies to all foodies in a circumspect way. I was talking with an old friend and the subject of "inspiration" and "culinary expertise" came up and he asked me where I learned or was somehow driven to this field. Honestly, I could only think of one place and time. We have all worked for lunatics at some point (and I have been accused of being one myself on many occasions), but my focus went to a gig I had in Montclair District (East Bay Area) and an old chef/sage named Phil (no last names as his family is still around). Phil was the Exec at Ernies in San Francisco for many years, which was THE place in it's heyday (late 70's) and I was fortunate enough to work under him in his later years. He was absolutely brilliant and made a Chicken Consomme that was so golden and rich that it tasted like a thousand birds exploded in your mouth when you tasted it......old school style with a float of egg and onion and reduced all night. This was a guy who smoked over the Demi Glas cause it "added flavor" (still haven't put those together) and one of my jobs was to find his heroin kit in the morning after a rough night........he was truly a brilliant Chef and I worshiped him and learned so much in his presense, in addition to his side business of selling pot to some really big bands (who will also remain nameless) in the Bay Area. I learned everything from how to roast veal bones correctly to how to break open a parking meter with a meat tenderizer.....Phil died around 12 years ago of complete renal failure (not a surprize but still heart wrenching to me). So, who are your mentors?

I had been learning how to cook in a number of Mom & Pop places. But I think in my early 20s, when I decided to myself that I liked cooking and I wanted to learn as much as I could, it all fell together.

Following the advice of another chef I had worked for, to travel as much as I could; I was living in New Hampshire at the time when I applied, got brought in to make lunch for the chef and owners, and got hired at a local inn that had a great reputation as a dining destination.
We had a prix fixe menu of usually three or four apps, a couple of salads and soups and five entrees that we changed on a daily basis.
If there was a recipe in Gourmet or Food and Wine that I wanted to try my hand at, that was definitely encouraged. Chef Ken basically let me have free reign to experiment as much as I wanted. It was also nice that the owners just gave us a checkbook that we could buy whatever we wanted with. Needless to say I learned a lot in a very short time.

Little did I know, I was secretly being groomed as his replacement.

Chef Ken, in his early 40s, seemed to be going through some sort of mid-life crisis. I loved the guy because not only did he teach me how to cook; he rode a Harley, liked to tell me stories about himself "when he was my age", whored around with girls half his age, smoked weed and drank like a fish.
I had been there about 8 months or so, when one day he pulled me aside and told me that I was ready to run the kitchen on my own and don't worry about stuff , we have a great staff, "You'll be fine. I've got some things to take care of."
I didn't really think much about it until the next day, I came to work and the owners told me he had given notice and I was being promoted to Chef de Cusine. I was only 24.
Apparently, he had been chasing some woman he had just met, who lived in Newburyport, MA. Proclaiming he had found "True Love" again (he'd been married & divorced three times) he dropped everything, rented out his condo, gave me everything he didn't want to take with him, including some really nice old stereo equipment, to move down there to be with some 28 year old waitress and work in some bar & grill called "The Grog." I later went there to visit him, the place was a dump. Of course, she eventually left him, he moved back about a year later and took over the only Mexican restaurant in town.

I had also really just started figuring out how to cook. I compare it to learning how to play guitar. If you practice enough, one day a light bulb will go off in your head and suddenly you are making music.
I guess I learned my lessons well as about a few months later under my direction, the inn was awarded a dining "Four Diamond Award " (only the second ever awarded in the state) from AAA.

I am not a chef, but a foodie who loves to cook, and my #1 mentor is James Beard. To me he represents a time where food was real food, and he celebrated all the good things that composed great American food. He was an amazing person.

Justin Wilson.

- Some may remember this man from his catch phrase "I gar-on-tee!" He captured my imagination as a kid with food and kept it entertaining; wanting to learn more about different foods. I'll never forget the guy.

Justin Wilson.

- Some may remember this man from his catch phrase "I gar-on-tee!" He captured my imagination as a kid with food and kept it entertaining; wanting to learn more about different foods. I'll never forget the guy.

"A little more wine for the cook!"

Justin Wilson.

- Some may remember this man from his catch phrase "I gar-on-tee!" He captured my imagination as a kid with food and kept it entertaining; wanting to learn more about different foods. I'll never forget the guy.

Rat on brutha. Justin was dah man. His was the first cookbook I ever owned...Still got it.

and one of my jobs was to find his heroin kit in the morning after a rough night........

Are you serious???

Sounds like a cop-out, but I have to say my Dad was and is my biggest inspiration in the kitchen. The man was the master of short order cooking. He could make any sandwich out of anything and he would always tell me that if I didn't like it, I didn't have to eat it, just throw it out and we'd try again. He taught me how to make something out of nothing and that creativity was from within, to be brave and bold, and not be afraid to make something terrible, because you can always cook it again. He was always trying something different and making up stuff to eat just to see if it tasted good. I got the inspiration to start cooking directly from him.
Today, when I cook and create recipes, I always wonder what my dad would think about some of the stuff I come up with and I wonder if he would throw it out and we'd have to try again.

and one of my jobs was to find his heroin kit in the morning after a rough night........

Are you serious???

Yes, sadly I am. It was the late 70's and a very different time......does not degrade my friend or his tallents but does mean that there is a certain "insanity" to this business and that does not make Phil any less of a genius behind a 12 eye stove....Indeed, I would argue that he was even more of a bitchen Chef with such an impediment...(I wouldn't call finding his kit a job though, in hindsight, it was just a courtesy?).

I was really good friends with a guy that was a cook at a place i frequented when i was younger. This guy could handle the kitchen. He could do it alone sometimes when everyone else left him hanging. He was that guy that worked swing and night if they needed him. Before i got to know him, i would hear the servers talking about him, and got glimpses of him. So i asked well how does he do it?.......

coke.........plain and simple. It was my first glimpse into this whole other world of a restaurant. I am not saying everyone does drugs that works at restaurants.........please do not think i am making that statement. But i am not surprised by David's statement.

I have a lot more to say on this but dont want to derail.

Truthfully, there was a lot of that back in the day.

Truthfully, the modern kitchens have moved past that. Even the old timers have given up the excesses of old. There truly are no 50 year-old junkies.

(makes the sign of the cross)

Truthfully, the modern chef/mixologist has come to learn that the body is temple and that their production is highly dependant upon their constitution. And that said constitution relies upon not being trashed every night. Maybe a couple of laps, once in a while. Perhaps some yoga, on the occasion. Tai Chi is pretty effective, as well, for us bordering 40.

The whole schema has changed. The new guard is in place. And they seem to have learned from the mistakes of the generation before them...

A good thing.

Back on point...

Mine was Sonja. A Brit trained in High French Style, who ran Miami's Premier Hotel/Restaurant. She broke off to do the country cooking of the Med. No doopie-doop. Just flavor, with some flourishes.

She owned a wine bar. No spirits, go figure.

Yet, there is no greater way to understand flavor than to explore the world of wine. Vitners have access to nuances that I can never touch, unless I use their work.

They can express rubber, cat pee and cardboard....

IMO

Yet, there is no greater way to understand flavor than to explore the world of wine. Vitners have access to nuances that I can never touch, unless I use their work.

They can express rubber, cat pee and cardboard....

IMO

Stephen,
Not to hijack this thread.
I would hope that competent vintners would avoid at least 2 of the 3 "flavors" you mentioned. Rubber (burned) in my experience reflects a seriously reductive wine and the cardboard is the most common expression of a wine afflicted by cork taint (TCA/2,4,6-trichloroanisole). Both are wine flaws and not palate pleasing to most wine drinkers.
Cheers.
Bill

Yet, there is no greater way to understand flavor than to explore the world of wine. Vitners have access to nuances that I can never touch, unless I use their work.

They can express rubber, cat pee and cardboard....

IMO

Stephen,
Not to hijack this thread.
I would hope that competent vintners would avoid at least 2 of the 3 "flavors" you mentioned. Rubber (burned) in my experience reflects a seriously reductive wine and the cardboard is the most common expression of a wine afflicted by cork taint (TCA/2,4,6-trichloroanisole). Both are wine flaws and not palate pleasing to most wine drinkers.
Cheers.
Bill

Haha! You get the cigar! Or at least the cigar box nuanced zinfandel!

You can almost see the spot where I decided to plant that little doopie-doop, can't you?



Speaking of figuring things out, is this the Bill I know and love from Limestone, who now runs the wine shop in Holiday Manor?

That would be hilarious!