Mission: Cook! (33 page)

High
Tight
Clean
Centered

“High” means that I like to give the food a certain height off of the plate. For my Blackened Tenderloin of Beef, I will create a firm base with, say, a Sweet Corn and Potato Hash, and top that with the filet. From there, I can
bake a crust of blue cheese on the filet and top that with a crown of delicately fried onions. I like to make the food sit up and be noticed.

“Tight” means that I don't like to see the food spread out all over the place, as in the “three-plops-and-down” method, where the meat's at six o'clock, the veg is at ten, the starch is at two, and the sauce is working its way into a bit of everything. If I have a 10-ounce piece of fish, I will cut it or fold it so it stays within the structure that I have determined will work best for that dish. When I say “stay put,” I mean it.

“Clean” means that I like you to be able to see the elements of the dish. If I give you a roulade of chicken stuffed with prosciutto on a bed of saffron risotto, I will slice the roulade so that you can see the ingredients in the center and appreciate their integration into the dish. I add saffron to the rice not only for the flavor, but so that the color is harmonious with the rest of the dish and calls out for attention. I might add the dusky red of a bite of sun-dried tomato in the roulade to recall the color of the saffron threads. It all gives you a sense of inclusion on my plan for the dish, a sense of “aha! I see what he's up to!” Then, moments later, when you smell and taste the white truffle oil, it comes as a pleasant surprise.

“Centered” means just what it says. I like to put the food in the direct center of your range of sight, usually with an expanse of white plate around it for contrast and to accentuate its beauty. I may subtly pool a sauce around the base of a centered dish to create a halo of color, but if I do so, I will make sure that the texture of the sauce is firm, not runny, so it doesn't spread and mess up the plate.

With this presentational matrix, you cannot help but give a focal point to the eye. It communicates precision, but can also make room for a sense of playfulness. In my Maine Lobster Salad, you won't have any problem figuring out that it is a
lobster
salad; the presentation of the lobster element will be high, tight, clean, and centered. But I will match the sunset colors of the shell fins of the tail with similarly colored and fanned peach slices, which will duplicate the appearance of the fins to make you smile just before you dig in.

It is good to have methods that you can fall back on, because they give you confidence, but you want to try to avoid letting them slip into becoming dogma. Having a methodology will allow you to be comfortable enough in any setting to do good work, but leaving yourself open to your own freedom of expression can lead to bigger and better things.

When I worked at Trump, I received a call from my then boss, Walter
Kohlross, who asked me to host some visitors from the Navy. We had an advanced “cook and chill” system that I had installed, which allowed us to cook, bag, and blast-chill food items and then serve them later at a very high level of freshness. This was an important tool when you had to service multiple restaurants, banquets, and room service for a large hotel and casino on a daily basis. As it turns out, it was also a great idea if you had to centrally prepare and distribute food for a fleet of submarines that might be deployed for months at a time.

A gentleman arrived who was introduced to me as the Commander of Naval Supply; he had about a dozen Navy officers in uniform along. I spent the day showing them around, explaining our operations to him, as well as the cook and chill system, and made them lunch and dinner. As they were leaving, the commander expressed his gratitude and offered, “If I can ever do you a favor, just let me know.”

In point of fact, I did have something in mind. Not that long before, I had been on a visit to the CIA (the Culinary Institute of America, not the Central Intelligence Agency), and I noticed a couple of chefs who had jackets with White House emblems on them. I asked if I could get my hands on a couple, and he said he would look into it on his return to D.C. We shook hands and they left.

A couple of days later, I got a call from Tony Powell, who was then deputy director for Presidential Food Service for the White House. We had a great conversation. He took down my size, said he would take care of it right away, and gave me the option of coming down to the White House to pick them up, which invitation I accepted.

In my estimation, Tony is one of those guys who only come along rarely in a lifetime. He grew up in the Bronx, New York, is retired from the Navy after twenty-eight years of service, and through hard work has risen to enjoy the confidence of some of the most powerful people in government. He is smart and disciplined, but never rigid and always open to new ideas.

I met him in his office and he graciously showed me around the White House food operation. I have never been shy about offering an opinion, and I started to talk to him about what I saw as inefficiencies in the way they were putting food out of their kitchen. For one thing, they had completely different sets of china for orders from the East Wing and West Wing. That left cooks competing against one another to grab the correct dishes when things got busy. Uniform china would have eliminated this problem in one stroke. Their stations were disorganized and left people crossing into one another's
areas to perform the simplest tasks, like getting to the dishwashers. I could see that some people had too many of the wrong kinds of responsibilities, some had too few.

We talked some more, and Tony invited me to come back whenever it was convenient to talk to his cooking staff and share some new ideas with them. I left with my jackets and spent the next sixteen weekends in a row driving back to Washington, talking to and training White House chefs, servers, and staff. They had to put out between one and two hundred lunches a day, and nearly always found themselves in the weeds and behind service when they were busy, because the menus hadn't been well thought through. I helped to revise their menus and organize them according to ingredients and prep times whilst punching up some of their presentations. I helped to reorganize their stations in a more systematic way. I reworked their scheduling. They used to schedule prep for lunch at 4 a.m. and barely get everything finished in time; then everybody would quit for the day. I split their prep between that big chunk of down time in the afternoon and a later call time in the morning and took the pressure off. They had virtually no freezer space, and no dessert space. We drew up a grand plan on a couple of napkins, and with Tony clearing the way, we worked together to solve both of those problems and even had gas laid on in the kitchen to replace all of their inefficient electric cooktops.

All of this effort has led to another unexpected and satisfying twist in my career, cooking as a guest chef in the White House, for both Presidents Bush, the elder and the younger, as well as for President Clinton. Including the time I cooked for President Reagan's birthday on the
Britannia,
I have served my food to four U.S. presidents. I have enjoyed a whole second wave of opportunity to present my food to world leaders. I have had the chance to cook special orders for the commanders in chief and their first ladies. I have made CowboyStyle Rib Eye Steak paired with truffled mashed potatoes and a twenty-year balsamic demi-glace; I have put peerless Japanese Kobe beef in a shepherd's pie (usually made with ground lamb), to be served to Prime Minister Tony Blair at a gala state dinner; and I have served up giant Wisconsin-prime freedom burgers on brioche rolls with mammoth Idaho freedom fries in recent times of diplomatic stress with our French allies.

Tony Powell and I have become great friends since then; I call him “my brother from another mother.” I recently attended a reunion dinner in Washington of all of the chefs who have cooked at the White House since the Nixon administration. I went bowling in the basement of the White House, and there was a lovely speech made about my contributions at a picnic afterward. You
never know where grabbing a frying pan and spatula and having a good time is going to lead you.

In the time that has intervened since, I have kept busy spreading the culinary faith. I have variously consulted on food management and service at Resorts Hotel and Casino in Atlantic City, worked on the development of my line of food products and equipment, have plans in the works for a restaurant of my own in St. Petersburg, Florida, and have been given the chance to realize a longtime goal, that of making a mark in the world of television.

Prior to shooting the television pilot for Food Network, which I mentioned in the introduction to this book, my producers and I were obliged to put together a short demo, or “sizzle” reel (appropriate for a chef), that showcased my skills in the kitchen and that proved that I could cook and speak on camera at the same time without accidentally cutting off any important parts of myself or my coworkers.

Through a good friend of mine, we managed to get in touch with the people who run a training facility for both the New York Knicks and the New York Rangers, way out in the New York countryside. I have always been fascinated by the eating habits of athletes, and this was a rare opportunity to put some of my theories into practice. They allowed us to come in and cook a fantastic lunch, without any warning, for the players and coaches of both teams. I literally had a little more than two hours, during which time I was able to come up with eleven hot entrées and ten cold, with the help of George and George, served buffet-style in their cafeteria. The menu included Tastiest Ribs with Three Bean Ragout, Country Chicken-Fried Steak with Corn Bread, Creole-Style Red Snapper with Farmhouse Grits, Seared Tuna, Spicy Flank Steak, Seared Chicken Fontina, Cold Lamb Salad with Beets and Feta, Colossal Crab, Apple, and Fennel Salad, Horseradish-Crusted Salmon, Beef Tenderloin, Nantucket Bay Scallop Ceviche, Shrimp Scampi, and much more, including a chocolate fountain with fresh strawberries.

During the mad scramble to get things done, I had a chance to chat with the nutritionist for both teams, and we talked about the food requirements for athletes of this caliber, in what proportions they need proteins to build and maintain muscle mass, and at other times, usually in the same day, carbohydrates for quick bursts of high-intensity energy. She referred to them as “anaerobic animals” who often look at food as fuel, and that made perfect sense to me. In point of fact, the Rangers actually had a game on for that night, and there was some concern that a few of them might be breaking their food rituals for our buffet.

In the end, the food was a smashing success. We fed Knicks forward Malik Rose; Knicks guard Stephon Marbury; coaches Herb Williams and Mark Aguirre; Rangers defenseman Darius Kasparaitis; Rangers right wing Jaromir Jagr; Knicks general manager, Hall of Famer, and hard-court legend Isiah Thomas…and the entire lineups for both teams. They ate like lions, and took all of the leftovers home in carry-out containers. Both teams went on to win their next games, and the Knicks actually broke a losing streak. As he ate plate after plate of my food, Jaromir Jagr insisted on giving me an incredibly detailed description of the Czech dishes his mother makes at home, but finally had to admit that my food was good. Isiah Thomas—in a state of calorieinduced euphoria—equated his experience of the day with what his mother always told him about the importance of marrying a good cook and actually proposed marriage—to me. Of course he's a fine-looking man, and makes a good living, but alas…I had to break his heart and tell him I am already married.

All kidding aside, we must have “sold the sizzle,” since we got our chance at the pilot.

These are some of the recipes I cooked for the New York superstar athletes and coaches. They are all healthy, and though some are more filling (you should have seen the size of some of those guys) and others provide more energy and fewer calories, they are all well balanced and nutritious. I also served my Tastiest Ribs (page 7)—the Czech hockey players went wild over them.

In
a large plastic bag, mix the coriander, cumin, thyme, salt, pepper, and garlic powder. Place the steak in the bag and shake to coat. Refrigerate the rubbed steak for 1 hour.

Combine the lime juice, cilantro, grapeseed oil, and salt and pepper to taste in a cruet or jar and shake to combine well. Refrigerate. (Preheat the oven broiler for the steak.)

Combine the watermelon, cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, red onion, and scallions in a mixing bowl and toss with the vinaigrette.

Place the steak on a lightly greased baking sheet and broil for 5 minutes on each side or to desired doneness. Let the steak sit for 5 minutes before slicing. Slice the steak against the bias or grain, into 1-inch strips.

PRESENTATION

Divide the sliced steak evenly among 6 plates and arrange the slices all in the same direction on each plate. Spoon the salad down the middle of the row of steak slices.