"We may be glorified servants, catering to the whims of those usually wealthier than us, but we are tougher, meaner, stronger, more reliable, and well aware of the fact that we can do something with out hands, our senses, the accumulated wisdom of thousands of meals served, that they can't." Anthony Bourdain, The Nasty Bits "When did you know you wanted to be a chef?" My sister asked, just the other night while we were watching the final episode of Top Chef Masters. Marcus Samuelson, now Top Chef Master, told the story of growing up as an Ethiopian adopted child in a Swedish home, a past that has forever influenced his culinary success. While Swedish cuisine undoubtedly sculpted his palate, his roots in Ethiopia planted an ever growing ambition to raise awareness about the culture and the cuisine. Even though he spent hours cooking alongside his Swedish grandmother as a child, it is his dedication to multicultural cuisine that has made him great, which is an achievement that wouldn't have been possible without his particular history.
So when did I know I wanted to cook and be a chef? My past isn't nearly as intriguing as Samuelson, but I do know that I have always been drawn to food. My mother said that as a young kid I would constantly remind her when food was getting low in the house, worried that we would run out of things to eat and eager to visit the grocery store. I loved being surrounded by rows of fresh produce, aisles of perfectly stocked boxes of cereal, and chilled cases of cheese varieties. I remember asking permission to go stand in the dairy section because I enjoyed the cool temprature and I wanted to study the collections of yogurts and Pillsbury cookies. I was a weird kid.
My mother was a single parent after she and my father were divorced. Neither of my parents could afford meals out and food at home had to be affordable, quick, and simple. I remember eating a lot of instant potatoes, macaroni, crockpot fixings, and peanut butter sandwiches. My sister and I saw our father on weekends when he wasn't tied up with medical residency obligations. At some point meals with dad got nicer. We were no longer eating our standard ham steak dinner with macaroni and baked beans. My dad was cooking lamb, stewing seafood bisques, and reading about how to make his own pizza dough. What was even better was that my dad was inviting me to help him in the kitchen.
I really began to value nights in the kitchen with my dad. He began asking for my input and provided the means for me to explore desserts. He'd make dinner and I'd make dessert. I eventually started making dinners and started experimenting with course meals. It was my father's praise that really fueled my love to cook. Maybe I wasn't the child that matched his athleticism or academic success when he was in high school, but I was creating meals that he liked.
Last month I made the trip home to cook a father's day dinner for my dad. I talked to the chefs where I work and asked them what they would make for Father's Day. Chris Wofford, the Executive Chef at Ten, suggested that I poach seabass like the kitchen staff does in the Ten kitchen. I liked the idea and Chef helped me get my hands on fresh seabass.
I transported the seabass back to Salina and prepared butter sautéed seabass like my friend Nick Haxton, Sous Chef at Ten, taught me. I placed the seabass on a dense bed of lemon risotto and placed delicate pepper curls on the fish as a garnish, which is a technique I also brought home from the restaurant.My dad said it was the best seabass he has ever had, which is quite the compliment coming from a man who was born near a coast and later spent years living in Charlson, SC., while he was stationed at The Naval Academy. I prepared several versions of fried calamari as a appetizer and served a spinach, strawberry, candied walnut, and gorgonzola salad with a balsalmic reduction. It was perfect.
Watching people smile over a meal is the greatest satisfaction for me, and my dad's smile was wide that evening.
