Showing posts with label Nopa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nopa. Show all posts

9.12.2009

Perfect?

Question of the week: Is there such a thing as a "perfect" dish? Have you eaten one? Have you cooked one? What was it?
libertyhuangIcon_lock@linecook My Uncle Jerry's braised pork belly is my fav dish ever.
Gingerthegirl@linecook I could wax all poetic on a lot of dishes I've had, but I what know is this: the hungrier I am, the more "perfect" a dish tastes.
shepdave@linecook no such thing as a "perfect" dish. 4 me every dish is an evolution 2wards the best possible dish. that said:sushi@tsukiji =perfect
JessPav@linecook There's no such thing as a perfect dish. Just like there's no such thing as a perfect poem. It can always be improved on.
RFaucette@linecook yes I think you can make a "perfect" dish. It may only be perfect to you though. I don't think it can be perfect for everyone.
rupski23@linecook I think perfect meals can be acheived more often than we think. Often, it's a question of being perfect for that moment
sfmongoose@linecook yaaaaa........... my calamari dishes hahaha
Pav1ov@linecook I got brain lock thinking of an answer! Ass kickin question. Simply put, the answers are all no. But it's something we are all ...hollowspring@linecook The best is wild strawberries just picked from the plant.
MatthewSievert@linecook I feel good when I execute good food for others. Obtaining perfection or eating perfection can be a curse and a goal.
CNrecords@linecook the perfect dish after surfing is either; a) smoked fish sandwich w/ tomato and cold drink or b) burger and a cold drink.
HeatherHAL@linecook I think perfection lies in the simple things, like a roasted chicken. I'm getting there!
dianasaurusrex@linecook I think a great BLT w/avocado can be the perfect food. I had a sous vide lobster once @ The French Laundry that was perfection!
tablehopper perfect dishes: the watermelon pickle/pork belly number at fatty crab, and the cha ca la vong version at betelnut haunts me.

I've only experienced it a handful of times in my life--about the same amount of times that i've been in love, gotten into fistfights, or felt rock bottom misery. The times when it's shown itself were quiet, almost terrifying. In the heat of service, going a million miles an hour, you stand up from being crouched over your plating. Looking down, you're not sure whats going on right away. You turn the plate to the right, then to the left. Then it dawns on you: the plating composition is perfect. Every element is resting perfectly. This becomes your model for the rest of the night. At the end of service you cook the dish for yourself, and call over all of the other cooks. There are mutters of "fuckin nice plates dude" and "you frills motherfucker, look at this thing." As you all dig in, everyone goes silent. Your grill guy breaks the silence.
"That's a bad ass dish. Everything works. It's just...."
"Perfect."
It's the kind of dish that you never get bored of cooking, or eating. After a few weeks of running it, you decide to take it off the menu--if only to give your guests something else...and then they start demanding that you bring it back. In an attempt to re-capture the magic of that plate, you push and stress and obsess. Mostly all you end up creating are poor amalgams of the original...until, if you're lucky (or insanely talented) you find your way back to something truly beautiful.

It's something that ive wondered about for a while. How does one attain perfection? For the longest time I was convinced that I wanted a 4 star restaurant. A place to make an attempt at being perfect every night. But lately i've felt like perfection has more to do with the people cooking and eating, and less to do with the people talking about it. Cant perfection be found in a taco, or a bowl of pasta? Isn't a fresh sand dab, or a warm pizza fresh out of the oven perfect in its own right? Have you had Tom McNaughton's cappelletti with crescenza, corn, and truffles? It's perfect. Have you had Daniel Patterson's "Earth and Sea" dish? Perfect. Have you had Oysters and Pearls at Luandry? Yes...its perfect. Shit, even Ryan Farr's zilladog flirts with perfection. Im inclined to think that perfection has less to do with composure and ingredient, and more to do with focus, commitment, and love.

Ruhlman wrote extensively about perfection in The Soul of a Chef. There's that quote from Thomas Keller about attaining it...how when you reach it, it becomes something else. Most chefs will tell you that it doesn't exist. Im inclined to disagree. You see, what really matters is that a dish is perfect to you. Even if you're the salad guy at The Olive Garden. If you can find beauty...harmony...and peace on the plate, then what others say doesnt mean shit. For years ive told my cooks that I didnt care if they were perfect--I only wanted them to try to be perfect. Now I can see just how much I meant that. At the end of the day, what's really important in your kitchen? Are you cooking for critics? Are you worried about yelpers? Or are you doing it from within? Are you doing it out of love? Are you doing it because you cant see doing anything else?


notes:
  • buzz aldrin and buzz lightyear. not the same.
  • maritess loves it when I wear v-neck t-shirts
  • broccoli di cicco and a soft boiled egg = the perfect mid shift snack
  • go buy the morning benders ep. right now.
  • podcasts are back next week!
  • only eating vegetables for dinner doesn't seem so crazy anymore
  • i get the feeling im going to have a lot of news for you guys in the following months
  • more thunder and lightning please. just not striking nick and janessa's house.
  • the twitter bbq was great...met new folks, saw old friends, drank a wide variety of booze, and passed around an enormous bottle of sparkling wine. thanks to everyone that came out--it was a fun day. Again next year? Re-caps are here (boobs4food) and here (lickmyspoon)

quotes and conversations.

"You wanna see my bare minimum? I'll show you my sugar lumps too."
-Corey. Wants to share.

Dega: New rule. If you call me Dega, you have to say "Degaba."
Me: Why, do you have swampy pants?
(that's a star wars jokes for the uninitiated)

Me: Did you know that if you plant a lobster in the ground you can grow lobster mushrooms?
Eddie: That's gross.
Merrell: That's not true. Is it?

"You should be pounding Gatorade right now. Or something."
-Dega.

"Coyotes saved his life."
-Camaal. Has a hilarious story about Gerardo being raised by coyotes.

Me: Gerardo, come massage Ponder's ass.
Gerardo: Deep tissue?

Me: How about a nice garden salad, or some whole grains?
Corey: I had a green salad for dinner last night. (pause) I lied. I had pizza and melted brie on crostini.

Me: Dega, I see you returned to the look.
Dega: What? What did you say?
Me: I said you're a stupid hipster and I hate your guts.
Dega: I hate you even more!

"Hey dude. I pooped on my pen."
-Corey. He really did poop on his pen.

Me: We should grate it on a sharkskin.
Al: I have one of those at home. I have a whole shark!

"If you wear an Ed Hardy shirt, that's a deal breaker."
-Mongoose. And he's right.




from top: figs, roasting, apples, fruit, snoopy, oakland, 4505 dogs, stay up late, dega, eddie, serg, kate, luis, anne, matt, ryan, joey, brandon, corey, the scene, cupcakes, porchetta, lengua, @coreynead

5.23.2009

Brigade.

My brigade is not perfect.  My brigade does not have fine dining experience.  My brigade is mostly non college educated.  My brigade is a work in progress.  And my brigade can probably cook most brigades into the ground.

My brigade is not a family.  At best, we are a close knit group of friends with a mutual respect for one another.  We hang out, and chat and drink, but we know where the lines are drawn.  Speaking to one of my best chef friends, he told me about a sous chef that was fucking up at his work.  Borderline scams and laziness, and all of it allowed to pass because he is friends with his boss.  Friends before the restaurant.  Not in our crew.  People are important--but the guest and the ingredient come first.  Personal sacrifice is just part of the deal.

My brigade isn't out to prove a point.  There is no bigger sense of purpose here.  We love cooking.  We feed on serving people.  We hate failure, but don't deny how important it is to help us move forward.  We're comprised of simple people.  Smart people.  Folks that believe in loyalty.  We speak the same language, even when we don't.  My brigade isn't concerned with Michelin, or James Beard, or Food and Wine Magazine.  The only concern is what's happening, that day, at that moment.  Looking forward is good, but can make you fuck up now.

My brigade is an enigma.  As strong as we are collectively, and as closely knit as we appear, we still hang by a thread on most days.  One person removed ruins the equation.  We are lucky to have a core that sticks.  Nothing is static:  energies change from night to night.  My brigade understands the fragility of the situation--how temporary all this is.  None of us will end our careers together.  I can't look at a great sautee cook and hope that one day I can hire them;  if all goes according to plan, I should end up eating in their dining room. 

My brigade frustrates me.  I want them to want more.  I want to see more...but I understand that the intense nature of our environment probably has a lot to do with these elements not emerging.  They are not average.  My brigade is a group of people that would never be friends, or even know each other outside of the kitchen.  They all have their dreams, but the necessity to be in the moment can distract from that.

At our best, my brigade is a force of nature.  Unstoppable.  Intensely focused, but with a smile on their faces.  My brigade will come at you like they're looking for a fight.  When they're making it happen, pride swells up in me and is almost impossible to contain.  My head tingles, and I want to stand on the fume hood and yell "Yeah motherfuckers!  You're fucking welcome!"  On our best nights, my brigade brings people closer together, creates cherished memories, and gets people laid.

I've been a part of three brigades that mattered:  the two person brigade that was just me and Ginger in culinary school.  The Va De Vi brigade that had Angelo Smith, Joey Rachel, Chris Rossi, and Saul Flores.  And the current group at Nopa.  So ask yourself:  What does your brigade mean to you?  Who are it's members?  What sets you apart?


notes:

  • oh, right.  my towel was on fire
  • shuna wrote this, and it's very good
  • being brought bourbon twice in one week is pretty cool - thanks Jason and Peter!
  • eddie, the artist.  super nice guy.  
  • writing for yourself:  easy, fullfilling, cathartic.  writing for others:  difficult, frustrating, draining
  • every chef should re-read Ruhlman's books from time to time
  • super glueing your buttons will keep them from popping off your bag
  • coming in and saying hi:  cool.  staring and pointing:  not so cool.

quotes and conversations:

Chef:  Corey, would you like to tell the nice people about your Corey-zo?
Corey:  Well, it's a calibration between me and Al...
Chef:  Collaboration.
Corey:  Yeah.

Me:  White guys with dreadlocks dude.
Justin:  White guys with dreadlocks?
Me:  White guys with dreadlocks.
Justin:  Last guy I punched was a white guy with dreadlocks.

Me:  She kinda looks like a vampire.
Goose:  Yeeeessssss!  I love vampires.
Camaal:  She gonna suck it?

Al:  Did you read the Chronicle today?
Me:  No.
Al:  You didn't read it?
Me:  No.
(pause)
Me:  What was in it?
Al:  I don't know, I didn't see it.

Me:  Gerardo, you ever put your dick in a peanut butter sandwich?
Gerardo:  (Nods.)

Me:  So how was it?
Camaal:  So good.  We go to the house, we are drinking, smoking...
Me:  Cool man.
Corey:  What's his name?

Me:  Hey dude, is that a half pack of Rolo's in your pocket?
Corey:  It's actually half of a tic-tac.

Jeff:  Sometimes it's a girl, sometimes it's a guy.
Corey:  Like Paulie's dating life.

Me:  You can smell her moustache from here.
Ponder:  It smells like a Bolivian bat cave.

Me:  OK, if Natalie Portman told you that you could bone down with her, but you had to eat that... (pointing at Paulie's sweeping pile)
Paulie:  Just that?
Me:  Yeah.
Paulie:  OK.



from top:  heart, sauce reflection, pancetta, the crew, halibut, cherries, clog wars, voltron, leg of lamb, let's be frank dog

4.25.2009

Naked.

Sunday.  6:01pm.
I'm freaking out.  It's my first day back.  We've shaken hands and said goodbye.  Lineup went well.  And now i'm completely losing my shit.  My heart is screaming at me.  I have to keep taking deep breaths to get air into my body.  My head aches, and all I can hear is a muted, rumbling sound.  Merrell and Ponder ask me if i'm ok, and I don't answer them.
  All I can see on the horizon is trouble, and fear, and failure.  And we haven't sent a single plate out.

Thursday.  9:55pm.
My face hurts, and I still can't breathe--but instead of panic and doubt, i'm brimming with laughter.  It's been a smooth night, and everyone is cracking jokes and having fun.  There are plenty of friends in the house, and service feels less like work and more like a big house party.  I'm so overrun with adrenaline and outright joy that my head is spinning a little.  Service hasn't been perfect--there have been some loss of focus moments...but all in all the night is going well.
  Euphoria isn't the right word, but it comes close.

Friday.  11:15pm.
Is it quiet in here?  It seems quiet in here.  It's been busy--a heads down, deeply focused kind of night.  There's this strange energy in the kitchen.  I think this is some kind of culinary equiavalent of nirvana, but i'm not sure.  My brain won't linger on any one moment for too long--things are happening too fast for that.  Things have been almost perfect...but not necessarily fun.  That's not to say that it's been one of those super intense, no fun nights--it hasn't.  But the focus has just been too deep to dig out of.
  I feel completely calm.

2009 was supposed to be all about confidence, right?  Moving forward, evolving, getting better.  Be smarter, work harder, waste nothing--including time.  Things started off well, and staying focused on that goal has been priority #1.  Now it's Spring, and there's this strange feeling like time is hurdling forward.  Everything seems more urgent, like someone went around slapping exclamation points on everything.  It seems now like all the goals are starting to progress.  We're stronger.  I'm stronger.  What was intense a year ago seems like childs play now.  So why do I still get that Sunday feeling?

I'm not the best cook or chef.  This blog doesn't have all the answers.  I make stupid mistakes, and lose focus, and act lazy.  I cuss, and talk shit, and sometimes wish I could just tell people to fuck off instead of helping them.  There are days when cooking feels impossible.  There are days when i'm so fucking scared and angry and ashamed that I can't even see straight.  On these days I look at myself and ask this:

What if the insecurity and fear and doubt never go away?  What if this is my curse?

Then I realize that it's not my curse--it's everyone's curse.  Life is difficult.  Cooking is hard.  Those deeply focused days are amazing--and if they happened every day, then maybe our kitchen becomes more French Laundry than Nopa.  And that might not be a good thing.  The trouble is in balancing the focus, and the fun, and the fear.  The trouble is in looking at your situation, be it fear or fun, and adjusting back to some form of control.  The trouble is in realizing that it's not important to be perfect--it's only important to want and try to be perfect.

Sunday.  6:31pm
Deep breath.  Exhale.  Shake hands out.  I'm good now.



notes:
  • 8pm on a Friday night isn't a great time for the fire marshall to show up
  • that cute dog almost took my hand off
  • next weeks podcast features ryan farr and eddie lau
  • nopa sold 50,000+ burgers in the past 3 years
  • those pants at rvca were far too tight
  • when a cute girl/guy tells you they like your writing, it'll put a smile on your face
  • i kinda wanna marry blue bottle
  • kick ass, ex machina, and no hero are great comics
  • porchlight was fun
  • dinner at boulette's was amazing.  stuart and nicole brioza = bad ass
  • the one star is almost as rare as the four
  • this blog post title has nothing to do with ponder's new twitter picture

quotes and conversations

Me:  We should call each other by animal parts.  Like duck neck.  Or hambone.
Corey:  How about chicken penis.
Me:  That's a good one for Paulie.
Corey:  Or turtle vagina.
MerrellThat's a good one for Paulie.

"When it's like this, it reminds me of a Twix commercial."
-Goose

"I dunno, if I were dating a guy that was showing naked pictures of me, i'd be stoked."
-Merrell

Corey:  Hey dude.  Some girl said I had on cool ass clothes yesterday.  All I had on were Vans and a hoodie.
Me:  Was she hot?
Corey:  She was eight.

"That's like borderline Mark Summers shit."
-Ponder, on me mopping my kitchen floor.

Corey:  Now I can jump off the roof.
Rachel:  Not until you finish making soup.



from top:  art!, the clash, iced espresso, crazy eating, dom p, bridge, boulettes, nopa empty, do i look fat in this?, sous chefs, goose, amy's stick hands, corey merrell ben al, matty