chez pim

Opening Day (Part II)

Part II of guest blogger Daniel Patterson's Opening Day. Daniel is the chef and owner of the restaurant Coi in San Francisco. Part one of the series can be found here.

12PM
Ginger Rogers famously said of Fred Astaire, “I did everything he did, but backwards and in high heels,” which pretty much sums up the difference between chef and chef/owner. I pondered this as I stood on the top step of a ten foot ladder, reaching forward three feet while twisting to the left to apply another layer of matte medium to a corner pane. Around this time my phone rang, and I half-turned to pull it from my back pocket. I felt like a contortionist. My back would be unhappy with me later.

(Chefs, more than any profession except perhaps athletes, tend to ignore the effects of the passage of time on their bodies’ capabilities, until the evidence, a carefully collected assortment of nagging injuries and aching joints, becomes too overwhelming. Because they start so young, they become accustomed to their bodies being loyal, obedient and indefatigable employees, which is largely how they’re treated. Somewhere around the mid-thirties there evolves a lengthy and bitter fight between spirit and corporal body, which sooner or later the body inevitably wins. After that the interaction between mind and flesh becomes a series of terse exchanges between two distrustful and occasionally vengeful equals.)

“Daniel. It’s Dick. I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”

Opening Day, by Daniel Patterson

Chez Pim has another special guest blogger today, my friend Daniel Patterson, the talented chef and owner of the restaurant Coi in San Francisco. Daniel is among the rare breed of chefs who can write. (He also contributes to the NYT and Food&Wine magazine.)

A few weeks ago, Coi celebrated its first anniversary, a milestone far too many restaurants sadly never reach. Here is Daniel's look back at Coi's opening day. His words afford us a rare glimpse behind the scenes at a real-world fine dining restaurant.

And, no, this is no 'Rocco', nor is it 'Kitchen Confidential', it's just a simple story well told. Enjoy. --Pim

Opening Day
by Daniel Patterson

When I first started working in restaurants, chefs ran with their own kind. For one thing, the pool of civilians looking for a misanthropic conversation in some dive bar between the hours of midnight and two am was small. For another, the profession was not exactly held in high esteem. Parents didn’t hope for their kids to grow up to be chefs, and the only “dinner parties” we were invited to involved pizzas and kegs of beer.

But times have changed. Now we not only find ourselves occasionally included in polite social events, but when conversations turn to the subject of vocation, few phrases elicit more energetic responses than, “I’m a chef.” This usually leads to a brief but vigorous interrogation, with a fairly predictable series of questions, like, “Have you read Kitchen Confidential?” (yes), and “How did you become a chef?” (by accident). This is generally followed by a lengthy recounting of the time they ate at the French Laundry/Masa/Other Name Brand restaurant, and how great/terrible/worth it/disappointing it was. At these moments I have learned to listen patiently. I smile. I answer their questions. I explain that cooking is an exercise in tedium interrupted by the occasional disaster. They look at me funny. I wonder how quickly I can find another drink.

Make the mistake of mentioning that you’re opening a restaurant, however, and the floodgates open in earnest. After a bit of prodding, you attempt to describe the décor and food in detail (and if you’re really lucky, the concept). You notice a dreamy look creeping across their face. Their eyes widen as they imagine the proverbial red carpet rolling out and the fabulous people crowding in, the glitz and glamour of Opening Night. You realize that the Food Network has some serious explaining to do.

Chez Pim TV

(If you are reading this post on a RSS reader, you might want to click through to Chez Pim for the video.)

My new baby camera, Leica D-Lux-3, has a video mode, so yesterday my friend Beccy and I spent the afternoon playing with it. The result is this silly video here. We had so much fun doing it that we thought we'd share it with you. Mind you, it's Beccy's first time holding a video camera, and my first time using iMovie (that's why the editing looked like it's done with craft scissors and ducktape.) We winged it, bascially, no script or anything. So, really, don't expect much.

We shot the whole thing in the sequence it's shown, so you could see the progression of me getting slightly more comfortable with it, which means you'd only have to put up with me fidgetting like a bunny on crack for just a bit in the beginning. Ha ha.

And if you want a recipe, here it is.

Bits and bites and yet another fav find

Bits of me are scattering around the web these days. Here's a quick list should you be interested. Or just look away if you don't want to see me patting myself in the back.

Adam, that Amateur Gourmet Adam, was over here and share a dinner with me that he went ga-ga over –the dinner, not me. He's got pictures even.

I contributed –for the second year running- to the Go List in Food & Wine magazine that's on the stand now. Go get a copy of the May issue of the magazine, or if check it out online here.

Over in London, Olive magazine asked me to give a bit of advice to their Smart Dining Tips from the Experts –and by experts they meant people like Giles Coren and Jay Rayner who were also on the list, not little me, I'm sure. It's not online but a screenshot is here.

Down way under in Australia, Chez Pim got a mention with a spattering of other blogs like Noodlepie and Man That Cooks in Men's Style Magazine. The article is not online either –what's up with that- but Helen of Grab Your Fork was kind enough to flickr-ed it so I could see. Thanks!

Chez Pim was also recommended in Madame Figaro in February -with Clotilde, Pascale and a bunch of other bloggers. There was also a 50 best food websites list in the Independent (over in London) that Chez Pim was included in, unfortunately it's not online so I can't link to it. And another interview in Restaurant Magazine, which ran last month I think. I haven't seen it either. When they get around to sending me a copy I might post it in case you are curious.

And now on to the fav find, inedible but delightful just the same. I found these irresistible little Moo pockets, made just for your Moo cards. If you have Moo cards, you simple cannot live without one of these. If you haven't got Moo cards, well that's your own damn fault, isn't it?

Domaine de Marquiliani Corsican olive oil, the best oil you've never heard of

I love it when I find something delightful no one else has heard of. The thrill of discovery. That smug sense of satisfaction for being the first. And I bet you've never heard of this one, Corsican olive oil. Domaine de Marquiliani olive oil to be precise.

Ok, well I'm not exactly the first to have found this. Olive oil has been made and enjoyed on the beautiful island of Corsica since 3400 BC. Still, most people I know, even the most hardcore foodies, have never heard of it so I am going to keep the smug, thanks much.

The first time I encountered Corsican olive oil was at Casa Corse, a nice Corsican restaurant in Paris. I'm a bit vague on the meal itself, but I remember the three baskets of bread I ate, as a mere conduit for that marvelous oil they served. I tried to ask the indifferent server what oil they use. Corsican oil, of course, he said, in that gruff reply that could only come from a discommoded French waiter. Not entirely in the mood to press him anymore, I left it at that.

The following weeks I went on a hunt for Corsican oil. I bought pretty much every kind I came across. That's still not adding up to many, mind you, since Corsican oils are something of a rarity even in Paris. I did a taste test in my little flat, and found one I loved the most. It was an oil from Domaine de Marquiliani, which I bought from the little Corsican épicerie near the Opera.

recognition

When you travel as much as I do, a familiar face is always a welcome sight. Even if the face belongs to someone you don't even know.

Almost two years ago I went to the big food market in San Remo, Italy -just over the border from Southern France. I took a photo of a woman selling produce in the farmers' section of the market, where small farmers –mostly old ladies- sell produce they've grown themselves. She had a small, unexceptional stall selling a mound of potatoes and a few heads of curly Savoy cabbage: it was November and the pickings were slim. I took a shot –she looked away, playing coy for the camera, smiling only after the camera dropped back around my neck. It was one unremarkable shot amongst the hundreds I took that day.