On a cold grey day nearly eight years ago, I walked out of Eric Ripert’s office and decided to take on the challenge and opportunity of moving from Detroit to New York City to become his pastry chef. Though internally I doubted my own capabilities, this was the culmination of a ten-year dream, to reach this level of the profession. Now after proving to the world, and to myself, that I could indeed achieve that dream, another dream must take its place.
I’ve written the story before, of how ending up at Le Bernardin seemed somehow pre-destined. As a young cook, hungry for knowledge in the days before the Internet, an early volume of Art Culinaire introduced me to a whole new world, one that included a faraway restaurant, Le Bernardin. It was already a legacy, open some seven years in midtown Manhattan, and before that, thirteen in Paris, where siblings Maguy and Gilbert LeCoze earned two Michelin stars. At the time, Eric Ripert had recently stepped in as chef de cuisine, and a young Francois Payard served as its pastry chef. That initial exposure left an impression, for sure. But my work in a small suburban bakery seemed so far removed and my capabilities light years behind. Perhaps that was when the dream was born, to aspire to those heights. If not at Le Bernardin or elsewhere in New York City, then somewhere, sometime.
A few years later, I was closer to working at that level, with my next mentor, Rick Halberg at Emily’s. By the time he was invited to cook at the James Beard House, I was his right hand. It could just as easily been his suggestion, or mine, but lunch at Le Bernardin seemed the perfect way to celebrate our successful dinner in New York. I vividly remember each of the three courses: a Thai-inspired tuna salad, followed by skate sautéed in goose fat, and then Florian Bellanger’s warm chocolate tart. Back then, the long hallway connecting the dining room to the restrooms revealed a floor-to-ceiling window into the kitchen. It didn’t seem real to me at the time, but rather as if I was watching a movie. I never would have imagined I’d ever become one of the cooks working on the other side glass, let alone I’d be back there among them in less than six years.
Before I knew it, I was at Tribute, first as a cook, and then as its pastry chef. Takashi Yagihashi was getting national attention- rare for a chef in Detroit- and soon I began to soak up some that praise as well. Not only was I slowly making the rounds of the national circuit of chef events, but Takashi was always bringing in guest chefs to cook. I was meeting- and feeding- my heroes, the people I’d thought only existed in books and magazines. Eric Ripert was among them.
Five years into my time at Tribute, which was really my very first full-time pastry chef position, I began to look outward. That vague dream I’d carried was nearly realized. More specific goals finally seemed within reach as well. While New York was always the ideal destination, I more realistically considered Chicago or San Francisco as a next move, and I had already been talking about serious opportunities in each. Le Bernardin, however, was never on my radar, until a mutual friend of Eric’s planted that seed. At first the idea seemed ridiculous; at best, I’d enter NYC at a two or three star level. I just didn’t think I was ready. I then realized that every move I’d made in my short career was a terrifying one. In April 2004, I suddenly found myself across the desk from Eric, and then in a quick eight weeks, I entered the kitchen for my first day as Le Bernardin’s pastry chef.
Though my foot was in the door, it was the vague lack of confidence that motivated me; getting rid of the pit in my stomach was a daily task. As soon as I became comfortable in one area, a new challenge immediately presented itself. There was no grace period; Frank Bruni of the New York Times would soon be in to review the restaurant (I was a nervous wreck the night that came out. I certainly couldn’t take credit for the restaurant maintaining the four stars it had held for 18 years, but I felt I’d be solely responsible for any demotion). From there, it was the Michelin Guide, a James Beard Award… you know the rest of the story!
I’ve accomplished much and I’ve learned many, many things in this journey. I’ve learned a lot about cooking, of course, and about pushing one’s limits. I’ve learned about teamwork and discipline. I think the most precious lesson I will take from Eric and Maguy is the need to evolve. The only reason Le Bernardin still thrives after nearly forty years is because of subtle, but continual evolution. When I arrived here, it was the culmination of a dream. For years I was so busy living it, I never had to think of the next goal, the next challenge. In a sense, the restaurant's recent renovation and rebirth made me realize I’d been ignoring my own future. Most sane people would agree that I have no good reason to ever leave. Though I’d earned the rare trust to pursue my own vision and identity both within the restaurant and apart from it, I realized there might be a whole new way to express creativity, to reach new people. Most importantly, I want to continue the learning process for myself, to reconnect with that sense of excitement that drove me to cooking in the first place.
It would be premature to reveal exactly what the future holds. I want to write that book, of course. I know education will be a focus for me, but in this day and age, that can manifest itself in so many intersting ways. And there are the countless projects and collaborations, big and small, that I’ve simply never had time to pursue. Until then, it’s business as usual. The season is shaping up to be a very busy at one Le Bernardin, and my team and I will continue to push and create, right up to my final service. And I will cetrtainly play a major role in whatever transition follows.
I am grateful for the unconditional support of my wife Heather, my family, friends, and colleagues. And to Eric and Maguy, who allowed me to make a small contribution to their legacy, and whose trust and support have been so meaningful.
Stay tuned!
