Chefs in the front, at the piano, all over: who cares?

I was eating at a place recently where on entering I was greeted not only by the front-room guy but the chef. That’s cool. But he seemed to spend more time in the front of the house than the back, leading me to wonder how this all worked.

Now I accept the old Ducasse or was it Bocuse or Robuchon story when one on these globe-trotters was asked “Who cooks when you’re not here?” the reply “The same guy as when I am.”

Then, I remember after Passard got his last star at Arpege he was out with the customers all the time. Colette and I assumed it was because there were a couple of ministers and celebrities there that days, but by George, three weeks later we went back and he was there most of the time as well.

Now I’ve never worked at a restaurant, even briefly, so I don’t really know how they work. But I am aware that some people, take Daniel Rose of Spring now or Bernard Loiseau of Saulieu, work all the time in their skulls to come up with new and different and interesting stuff, teach it to the executors (i.e, the sous-chefs) and to some extent at that point, it’s “Mission Accomplished.”

Oh sure, guys like Dominique Bouchet finish off each dish before it goes into the salle and William Ledeuil often tastes the sauces and presses the protein before sending it off to the customer(s) but often once conceived, perfected and cooked, it’s on automatic pilot.

Now coming back to Rose and I do so because I’ve probably spent more time within 20 feet of his kitchen than any other chef’s, in part because it’s open and in part because I drop in between services, largely to make contact/reservations/etc. It’s clear who’s the boss, who had the concepts, who spells out what and how things need to be chopped, peeled, prepped, precooked, etc., and who is overlooking everything and able and willing and prone to jump in to do things at a moments’ notice.

But, meanwhile he can be greeting or chatting up customers, taking orders, explaining dishes, saying goodbyes. In short he’s a multi-tasker who makes it all seem effortless. But you don’t lose that amount of sweat, sleep or weight on Easy Street. It’s tough work.

So as opposed to 20 or 30 years ago when I thought Passard might not come up with my food if he was out front chatting all the time, today, when Mr Rugbyman spend more time with us than at the piano, I never worried for a minute.

This was conceived at:

Desvouges
6, rue des Fosses St-Marcel (Metros: St Marcel, Gobelins or Censier-Daubenton)
T: 01.47.07.91.25
Closed weekends and Monday and Tuesday lunch
Menu-carte at 26 E, but a la carte is the same.

 

Comments

[Parigi]

Daniel is much more relaxed and friendly at the end of a meal than at the beginning, when he is often visibly focused and sometimes stressed.
And quite a few chefs, like Pep of Cal Pep of Barcelona, and Jégo chez L'Ami Jean, have to see who's eating the food (and perhaps how they are enjoying). And when Pep feels a connection with lucky you, he may come over and tweak your dégustation menu at mid dégustation. Jégo too sometimes suddenly has the waiter to send over a couple of tating dishes, practically under the table -- because we were showing proper orgasmic enthusiasm?

Those are the exceptions. Indeed usually an excessively schmoozing chef is not a good sign.

Lastly, going back at Daniel and Spring: We often chuckle to hear in such audibly detailed way how he directs the whole operation. And we feel so lucky not to be dining chez Gordon Fucking Ramsey, or chez Daniel Fucking Rose.

[Margaret Pilgrim]

And your meal at Desvouges ?

[John Talbott]

Upthread a bit at http://johntalbottsparis.typepad.com/john_talbotts_paris/2011/04/desvouges-in-the-5th-rubin-surprisingly-good-bistrot-them-self-made-miam-sic-talbott-kinda-kicky.html