|
|
chicago home
events calendar
bars & clubs restaurants specials best of chicago 
art
film and video food and drink music and clubs stage style words sports features |
|
|
 
To Be Franc What does it mean if French super-chefs come to Chicago?
Like a geographic Rodney Dangerfield, the Midwest gets no respect.
Whether it was the California stylings rooted in locally grown
politically vetted food of Chez Panisse or the haute wizardy of Daniel
Boulud in New York, for many years, America's culinary consciousness,
much like our artistic one, veered to the coasts.
Yet the Midwest, with its blue-collar denizens, immigrant culture and
industrial engineering has a gritty ingenuity that required attention.
In recent years, the Midwest has cinched up its rust belt and started
deconstructing the roots of its rustic cuisine. At places like Avenues
restaurant, pot roast and sauerkraut pierogies have given way to seared
Kobe beef medallions and sauerkraut bubbles. The sweat of laborers that
once powered the assembly lines now fuels our kitchens, and Chicago is
the hub of America's food renaissance.
The most recent validation of this idea is the fact that the greatest
of the French chefs are about to invade. According to a recent Chicago
Sun-Times article, Joel Robuchon, once dubbed the "chef of the
century," is planning to open a restaurant in Chicago at the end of
next year, while Alain Ducasse, whose global restaurant empire has
earned enough critics stars to form its own culinary constellation,
dropped in to dine at Avenues amidst rumors of a potential new
restaurant.
Ask any local chef about this development, and they gush.
Grant Achatz of Alinea: "I think it shows how important Chicago has
become as a gastronomic city."
Homaro Cantu at Moto: "We are leaping toward the forefront of modern
gastronomy and this is only more evidence to support that."
Rick Tramonto of Tru and Cenitare group: "Those guys are my idols.
To get to Kumbaya with them would be fun."
As a rabid gourmand, I'd be lying if I said my stomach didn't leap a
bit at their coming. And yet, because we have worked so hard to earn our
own culinary place, there's also a parallel constriction of my heart, a
burning twinge of protectionism.
Aren't Ducasse and Robuchon culinary carpetbaggers taking advantage
of our Midwestern hospitality and standing upon the labor of our
pioneers? Despite our success, the Tribune's Good Eating section still
features a syndicated column from Wolfgang Puck. Hasn't Charlie Trotter
or Paul Kahan at Blackbird earned a voice in our local pages? Legends,
especially French demigods, cast long shadows, ones that may shroud our
own identity.
Ducasse and Robuchon aren't actually coming here, their corporations
are. (Ducasse employs thousands and runs twenty-plus restaurants and an
assortment of hotels.) Sure they'll be here during the opening month and
the food cooked will be incredibly executed, representing their vision,
but we already have food of this quality. Guys like Achatz and Trotter
are cooking at the same level of detail and refinement.
I don't begrudge Ducasse and Robuchon's desire to make money. They've
earned that right, but the reality is that the pool of dollars is
limited. I'd rather spend mine savoring a local hungry chef who's
clawing his way to the top night after night, infusing his soul into the
food at the pass of his own restaurant.
Some of the chefs I spoke with said that the arrival of the French
chefs will raise the bar for fine dining in this city. Yet the bar that
will be raised will have more to do with frivolous luxury than with the
food. When Ducasse opened at the Essex House in New York, he offered
diners a choice of expensive pens from Cartier and Mont Blanc to sign
the bill, and tableside stools to hold purses. I say flick me a Bic and
spend your budget on better food and service, or reduce the prices so
women can carry light wallets.
Rob Levitt, a hungry young chef at Lincoln Square's Fiddlehead Café,
sums it up, saying, "I have no problem with the big-name guys coming to
Chicago. I just wonder if they will make it. Most of the expense-account
set are at Gibson's eating a thirty-two-ounce porterhouse with a baked
potato and out-of-season asparagus." He adds, "We have just enough
high-end places for the out-of-towners and special occasions, and tons
of hidden gems for the locals. The food savvy in this city want good
solid food at a reasonable price."
Despite the Siberian nature of our winters, Chicago's not a communist
state, and so the French dudes can come as they want and the market will
determine whether they stay. So bring it on Robuchon and Ducasse, but be
forewarned.
As Steve Chiappetti of Viand says, "Too many times other
restaurateurs have come to this city and failed because the concept
which is just being duplicated here loses its sharpness and nobody in
Chicago wants a bad copy. We are proud of our original restaurants and
the owners being in them to ensure quality. If the consistency is not as
good as the original, Chicago residents usually won't go, and if they
[the out-of-town chefs] just plan to stop by to check in every once in a
while that won't fly either."
Also by Michael Nagrant Culinary Mythology
Sweet Sojourn
Super Party
Big Greek Breakfast
Mass Appeal
Outside the Lunchbox
Strawberry Fields Forever
Smitten by the Bite
The Final Meal
A Spark of Love
Zen Again
Get Sum
|
|
about Newcitychicago | about Newcity magazine | advertising | privacy policy | FAQ | employment |
