Talking with Talbot

Jeffrey Talbot grew up in Venton, Louisiana, just outside of Lake Charles. From there, he worked in high end  kitchens in Florida, Pennsylvania, Louisiana, Europe and California. But he left all that behind a few years ago to focus on a side job that became a passion: pizza. Quiet and monkish, Talbot is well-versed in the profanity laced patois of the kitchen. Let's put twentyish questions on the clock and get to know the pizza monk who tends the oven at Ancora. All photos courtesy of the new staff photog here, Renee "Peanut" Bienvenu.

Cooking is the only thing I can do. After high school I moved to Florida for a few months where my cousin was running a restaurant. Worked there for a few months and then went to Philadelphia to work with Tony Clark.

I worked for John Besh at Artesia, then he sent me to Europe for a year and three months. Came back and opened August. Always had in my mind that I wanted to work in three star Michelin type places. So left for California, where I worked at Cyrus. While I was at Cyrus, we started a bread program. That is when I began my starter, which is now six year's old. Was there for three months and became sous chef.

I kind of fell out of love with cooking. My mom had had a few strokes and so I moved back home and built a pizza oven in the backyard.

The pizza obsession is one of those things that my family didn't really understand. I first ate really great pizza when I was out in California and it was done perfectly. That pizza was an emotional experience. I wanted to take the craft I had learned in great restaurants and put that style of food into pizza. In a way you become more creative by limiting what it is you are doing.

I love making bread. We do three things here: cured meats, bread, and pizza. To me pizza is bread. But the actual bread we do here is pretty fun to make. Bread making is a very meditative process that requires focus to get the shape and texture we want. We don't use any commercial yeast. On some days there is high humidity, so you have to account for that. Other days, lower humidity. Sourdough is a whole different ballgame than using commercial yeast.

I don't know if I have a least favorite kitchen task. As a cook you take the good with the bad. What I hated doing five years ago, I love now. I even like cleaning, who the fuck likes to clean?

We cooks talk about memorable meals all the time. I have two. Cooks are always poor. I've been married for nine years now and my wife and I always make it a point to go and have one really nice meal a year. One year we went to The French Laundry and had the private dining room all to ourselves. I remember the maitre'd came in and said, "the other people who were to join you, have canceled. You have the room all night." That meal was great because we were treated so specially. Other meal was at Manresa. We ordered the entire tasting menu and the entire a la carte menu. We were there for five and a half hours and did twenty-one courses. It was fucking insane. Ohh, and we did all the wine pairings as well. At one point, my wife said, "Fuck, we are still on white wine. We have a long way to go." I think Manresa is serving the best food of any restaurant in America.

I like cooking for my family the most. As a cook we are constantly trying to justify our craft to our families. We arent ought saving the world, we aren't curing cancer, we just cook food for people to eat. So there is still that drive to make your family very proud of what you do. And cooking for them let's us do that. I'd love to cook for Douglas Keane. I have a tremendous amount of respect for him because I worked for him for so long.

I remember the first time I saw an ingredient you find on candy bars in a high end restaurant kitchen. Soy leciethen was the ingredient. I hate that high end restaurants are using that shit and charging people a fortune for that. You aren't a chef if you can't make great plates from food that grows in the dirt, swims in the ocean, or grazes in the fields plus a little salt and pepper. Technique is what great cooking is built on. I want a potato to taste like a fucking potato. Cryovacs and immersion circulators in my mind are no different than microwaves.

Fucking texting. I hate people texting in my kitchen. When you show up to work, work. Text when you get home.

What we do here is so simple. We don't get any produce delivered. We go to the market and what we find there is what we cook with. So you won't see anymore Creoles soon and we aren't going to serve Cauliflower in summer. That forces us to be creative.

Within three months, we had moved to New Orleans, had a baby, and opened a restaurant. We put up the lights, finished the floor, built this space. So there is an emotional attachment to this restaurant fueled by those hardships. After we opened, we discovered people have a preconceived notion of what pizza is supposed to be. We fight that everyday.

I put my hands on every single pizza that a customer eats. If they don't like it, it means they don't like what I did. And that is humbling.

Wood, sea salt, and Double O flour are my essential kitchen tools. Most of what we do, that is all we need to do it. All of our breads are just flour, sea salt, and water. Those are the most important ingredients.

After a long day, I like to eat cheese and bread and drink beer. I really love St. James which is one of my favorite places to go. Even coming from Bay Area, where there is a cheese shop on nearly every corner, St. James stands out.  It is the best cheese shop I've ever been in. I love everything about it, especially the smell.

The biggest influence in my career was traveling in Europe. Not neccessarily working in the kitchens, because all high end kitchens are pretty much the same. But being able to drive an hour and eat at a place like Auberge du Lac which has had 3 Michelin stars for like 50 years.

From My Grandmother's Kitchen. Marco Pierre White's White Heat is very motivational, but I have never cooked anything out of it. I just love the way he talks about food in that book. Flavors of Tuscanny. I read that book cover to cover. No chefs buy cookbooks for the recipes. You buy it to put you in a frame of mind. So when you are wanting to "Be Italian" or "Be Rustic" you read a book that takes you there and shows you the thought process of how to prepare food in that manner.

Probably the cooking of Northern Italy is my favorite Italian cuisine. The further north you go in Italy, the more it falls in line with the cuisines that surround it. As you go south, even into Tuscanny, you start finding poor man's food where they aren't relying on eggs and butter as much.

No shit, I ended up in New Orleans because of a Mano. We went there like five times before even partnered with Adolfo. I just love what they do there. Then of course, we are eagerly awaiting the reopening of Casamentos. And I love Hansen's, before we opened I went there everyday. My favorite flavor is The Thai Trifecta - ginger, limeade and cream of coconut.

I'd start with the cured meat plate definitely, the affetati misti. My favorite pizza here is the marinara. Two years go I loved the margerita, but now I see less as more. When you start putting too much stuff on pizza, it suffers. Our marinara is just dough, wild oregano, shaved garlic and the best possible tomatoes we can find. That is it. For dessert, I'd have the daily sweetbread. Again, simplicity it is just sourdough with dried fruits, nuts, marscapone cheese, and honey.

Never liquor with pizza. Beer or wine. Beer with some things, wine with others. But as I get older, I find myself drinking more beer.

I used to work on a fishing boat so I would be bringing fishing shit with me to a deserted island. If I wasn't doing pizza, I'd be cooking fish. I'd bring some seeds so I could grow stuff I needed to cook. Something to take salt out of the water which would also leave me with a huge supply of sea salt. Pepper. And I'd bring my knives. Be pretty set with all of that. Ohh, can I add something unfucking practical like ice cream just because?

We're Talking Salt and Pepper

These piggy salt and pepper shakers were won in my family's Dirty Santa game this past Christmas. Best. Gift. Ever.

More and more, I have been noticing that the new "statement" for a restaurant to make is omitting salt and pepper shakers from the table. The service tagline may go something like: "Our chef thinks that everything comes out of the kitchen already with the optimal amount of seasoning."

Fair enough, but what if the chef and I have differing opinions on what amount of seasoning is "optimal"?  Admittedly, I am a salt and pepper fiend. There was once a time when I would instinctively reach for ebony and ivory as soon as my plate hit the table and start vigorously shaking before even tasting my food. I probably would have registered as threat level orange by the National High Blood Pressure Education Program, but in recent times I have learned to curb my addiction.

The first instance I recall sitting down at a restaurant and noticing that there were no salt and pepper shakers was at The French Laundry. Instead of panicking, I said to myself: "It's Thomas freaking Keller, and he is watching the kitchen on a webcam right now. If he thinks the food is seasoned correctly, then that's fine by me."

But not every chef is Thomas Keller. I have started making a note of whether a restaurant leaves salt and pepper off the table by default, and let me tell you that list grows longer everyday. I understand that a chef believes that he knows his food better than anyone else, and henceforth his seasoning is the correct seasoning. But I also know that many cooks tend to underseason a dish because too much salt cannot be subsequently removed and any additional salt needed can be applied at the table.

So why make me go through the added effort of asking for the salt and pepper? Or is this more of a table decor issue? Salt is one of the few essential cooking elements, and while more is not necessarily always better, nothing brings out the flavor in foods like salt does.

Even in chocolate milk...

Napa Report: "The Laundry"

Today marks the beginning of a three part series recounting the shenanigans of my recent trip to Napa Valley. The area has, in my opinion, some of the most beautiful scenery in the country. The people were some of the most hospitable that I have encountered in all of my travels - we New Orleanians could most certainly use a lesson or two from the Napa Valley residents on how to make tourists feel welcome. And the food was fantastic.

We dined at The French Laundry on our first night in town - thinking that we would be in the best shape since we would not be coming in after a long day of tastings. (Plus that was the first day which we could get a reservation and we were not willing to endure another 45 minute session of hitting the redial button.) We quickly learned that people in-the-know refer to the The French Laundry as "The Laundry" - sort of like how locals used to say "Chris's" as opposed to "Ruth's Chris." Apparently it's the cool thing to do.

I waited till the second course to garner up the courage to ask if pictures were prohibited, so I missed the two amuse bouches and the first course, "Oysters and Pearls," which is one of the mainstays on TFL's constantly changing menu. The second amuse was the salmon ice cream cone - finely chopped smoked salmon placed atop a cracker like cone filled with red onion creme fraiche - and I could have eaten 100 of those.

We had 9 courses plus the two amuses, and some pictures came out better than the others. Here are my favorites:

There were two butters on the table: one salted and one unsalted (or sweet cream). One of the butters - and I can't remember which - is made specifically for Thomas Keller by a dairy farmer in Vermont. The salted butter in the silver ramekin was so amazing that The Pope ate it straight off the knife. No, I am not joking.

This was one of the choices for the fish course: Crispy Madara Cod Milt with Green Yuzu. I don't think that anyone knew that they were ordering deep fried cod sperm, and that's probably a good thing because they would have likely been turned off and missed out on the incredibly light and flavorful texture of the dish.

This was the finest piece of beef that I have ever put in my mouth. The cut, called a "calotte," is actually the cap of the ribeye. The knife sliced through the meat with only the slightest pressure. The accompanying purple cabbage and brisket dumpling with horseradish creme fraiche bursted with flavor.

I almost forgot: a surprise awaited us inside the menus when we arrived. A $150 white truffle supplemental course. Your choice of handmade pasta or risotto covered in shaved white truffles. The course included much pomp and circumstance - with the truffles arriving in a jewelry box and then shaved directly onto the plate. Unfortunately, none of us could justify adding 60% to the bill for one course. But we still got this picture.

At the end of the meal, each of the ladies were sent home with this box of mignardises (handmade chocolates) and a package of the best shortbread cookies which I have ever tasted - The Folk Singer believes in sharing.

This was just a snapshot of our 3.5 hour meal at "The Laundry." There were many other courses, and The Folk Singer had an entire different meal because she ordered the Tasting of Vegetables. And, of course, a few bottles of wine. Surprisingly though, TFL does not serve liquor. We discovered this fact after The Pope attempted to order a pre-dinner cocktail, and I thought that there was a significant chance that he might have called off the entire meal because there would be no Grand Marnier (aka "holy water") as a digestif. But he sucked it up and was a team player.

TFL is great, but it is quite a long production which you need to be mentally and physically prepared for. The meal hits everyone one of your senses and tastebuds, and quite honestly is rather exhausting. It's a meal which I had never experienced before. The attention to detail is something which (at least in my experience) is not found in many restaurants. And the raw ingredients are beyond reproach.

Finest meal of my life? Absolutely. Would I do it again? Probably not - I would like to try Bouchon on my next trip. But am I glad that we went? Without a doubt.

The Day Has Finally Come

I have been counting down the days till today since September 20. For it was on that fateful Saturday that I made reservations at The French Laundry. Two months ago to the calendar date (which is the earliest possible day reservations can be made), The Pope and I conducted a coordinated telephone assault at exactly 10:00am PST (which is the precise time when TFL's reservations hotline is turned on). As luck would have it, we were both able to make reservations. And so today is the day. My fellow diners: The Folk Singer, The Pope, Battle House Honey, and The Deli King & Queen.

Rumor has it that tables at TFL are easier to come by these days because of the current recession and the prospect of higher taxes for those individuals with enough disposable income to be able to afford to dine at TFL. But unlike some people, for me dining at TFL is about the food as opposed to securing bragging rights. Also, let it be known that I cannot, in any remote sense of the word, "afford" dinner at The French Laundry. This is just one of those opportunities which I would forever regret passing up.

A part of me wonders if I'm ready. Will I be able to fully appreciate the vision and techniques of Thomas Keller and his proteges? And at the other end of the spectrum, I wonder if I have set my expectations so high that nothing on the plate will be able to satisfy them. Most likely, my mindset (and the outcome) lies somewhere in the middle.

Two years ago, I was fortunate enough to dine at Paul Bocuse's eponymous restaurant outside Lyon - my first (and till today, my lone) Michelin 3 Star dining experience. Not only the food but also the service was something that I had never had the opportunity to enjoy before. I still vividly remember every detail of that dinner, and one day I will have to write about it. But looking back, I think that I fully appreciated that meal because the cooking methods, ingredients, and flavors were not completely foreign to me. Whatever I ate, it seemed as though I had experienced that flavor and texture before - except that everything which came from Bocuse's kitchen tasted 1000x better.

In short, that dinner at Bocuse was the finest meal of my life. Tomorrow (or more likely Monday), I will let you know if that is still the case.

But today is not only about me. Today, the third Thursday in November, is Beajolais Nouveau Day. Traditionally, today is the day that the first wines of this years vintage are released to the public. In fact, speaking of Lyon, Beaujolais Nouveau was historically first released to the Lyonnaise bistros by shipping the bottles down the River Saône.

The Beaujolais which you are most likely to drink is that of winemaker George Duboeuf. Beaujolais, while shunned by some oenophiles as too young, is a very drinkable wine which should be uncorked immediately. And it's CHEAP. The first cases were shipped off at 12:01am (Paris time), so lookout for these festive bottles this weekend.

Wow

The other night Thomas Keller and Grant Achatz of Alinea (who trained under Keller at TFL) prepared a 20-course meal, with each chef getting 10 dishes. The cost was $1500 a piece. There will be two more of these dinners (one each at Alinea and TFL). This dinner was held at. Chef Keller's per se in New York.

Partly this series of dinners is to promote both chefs new cookbooks. Achatz released "Alinea" a month or so ago and Keller will release "Under Pressure" soon. One of these days we will cover an event like this. Until then we bring you live reporting from the Shrimp and Petroleum Festival.

Here is a link to the menu.

Peter's review of TFL will arrive shortly after his visit there later this month. All I can say to Peter is that I hate him and his stupid reservations.

Go Get Wicked Smart

A press release from Mrs. McCall...

The Young Leadership Council and the Literary Alliance of Greater New Orleans are hosting a special panel discussion on Wednesday, November 5th in conjunction with the YLC's One Book One New Orleans project. This year's novel is City of Refuge by Tom Piazza.

The book tells the story of two very different New Orleans families and their struggles during and after Katrina. The panel discussion will highlight one strong theme throughout the novel – New Orleans' identity through its unique food and beverage. Panel members include Ralph Brennan, Jim Monaghan, Jr. of Molly's at the Market, and Sara Roahen.

The discussion is from 5:30 pm to 7:00 pm at the Southern Food and Beverage Museum. You do not have to be a member of the YLC or Literary Alliance to attend. Actually, you don't have to have read the novel to enjoy the panel (but it wouldn't hurt). But, space is limited…

For more information visit our website at http://www.onebookoneneworleans.com/.

Look, you are just getting stupider every day that you waste reading this blog. So if you have time tonight, go to SOFAB, listen to real writers, get some knowledge, and then start your own blog.

And another good link from Ben Jamon. I know Peter is very stoked to see the French Laundry on that list.

I like Fr. Tom, but...

Sometimes it is just hard to take him serious. Take this snippet from his website today in which he notes today is Thomas Keller's birthday.

Thomas Keller, the owner of The French Laundry in the Napa Valley, was born today in 1955. During the past decade, no other American restaurant has garnered the acclaim that the Laundry has. It routinely appears at or near the top of all Best Restaurants/Chefs In The Country/World lists. Lately, Keller's New York eatery, per se (they spell it in lowercase like that) has also been up there. Both the French Laundry and per se have three stars from Michelin; Keller is one of only two chefs in the world who have two such constellations. Dinner in either place involves committing an entire evening to a set tasting menu, and spending in excess of $200 per person (at least). I haven't been to either; I figure they're getting plenty enough coverage from other media. I'll go after they're no longer the hottest restaurant on earth, at which time Keller will still be at least as good, and probably better. I can't seem to detect the flavor of fame.

Using the classification "hottest" makes it seem like per se and The French Laundry opened last month. Unfortunately, I think the French Laundry can no longer be classified as the hottest restaurant on Earth. The French Laundry has been open since the mid 90's. It may still be a restaurant people are dying to get into but not because it is faddish. Christ, it can't be that exclusive, they let the Pope and Peter get a reservation. As someone so committed to good food and great wine would it have behooved Tom to make a "Tomment" about how the French Laundry is committed to his goals as well? Or maybe just dig a little deeper next time.

Sometimes the stubbornness and blinder driven persona of Tom really comes through.

Will Someone Lend Me $600?

Over the weekend, I somehow scored a reservation at The French Laundry. Actually, I secured a reservation AND The Pope secured a reservation. After dialing TFL's reservation number approximately 100 times in less than 10 minutes, I finally got through and was told that there surprisingly were two available tables on that night for our party size. I chose the later time. A short while after I hungup the phone, The Pope - who himself was hitting the redial button trying to get us a table - managed to avoid the seemingly omnipresent busy signal and reserved the earlier table. We have decided to dine later, so if anyone is interested in a reservation at The French Laundry in November, please email us and we might be able to work something out.

For those unfamiliar with The French Laundry, it's regarded as possibly the best restaurant in the country. It has been awarded three stars (the highest rating) by Michelin and is ranked #5 in Restaurant Magazine's 2008 World's Best Restaurants. Reservations can only be made starting two months to the calendar date, and the internet is filled with websites touting the best ways to secure the precious few reservations available every day. Basically, it's kind of a big deal.

So on an undisclosed night this November, I will be one of the fortunate few seated at the altar of Chef Thomas Keller. I am still in shock that we were able to get a reservation, but I guess that November is the slow season for wine country. Dining with me will be: His Holiness, The Folk Singer, Battle House Honey, and The Deli King & Queen. Unfortunately (as of right now) Rene will not be in attendance, but he still has a little less than 2 months to change his mind.

Now about that $600 loan ....

Two Birds, One Recipe

The book has tempted me. Sitting on the shelf staring, daring, and challenging my inner soul. The French Laundry Cookbook: the Playboy of Food Porn, the Rosetta Stone of Risotto, and the Bible of Bordelaise. Over the last two days, I tackled a recipe. And in doing so, solved a problem.

The herb garden was a great idea; but now the basil is taking over. We get a lot of queries from readers, such as McCall and Go Bama, about what to do with the pounds of basil growing in their garden. Here is what you do.

From the French Laundry Cookbook.

Take 3 Cups (tightly packed, like a cooler on a boat) of Basil. Bring to a stunning boil 2 quarts of water and 1/2 cup of salt. Toss Basil in water for 15 seconds.
Remove and throw into an ice bath. Drain basil (it will look like frozen spinach) on paper towels until dry. Seperate basil into two portions of half each.
Cut with scissors one half of the basil clump and place in blender.
Add 3/4 cup of oil to blender. Blend on low for 1 minute. Then high for 2.
Add half the remaining basil (cut as well), blend on high for another two minutes. Open pourer hole on lid of blender. The oil will get hot; this is ok. Its called friction, it happens.
Add remaining herbs (also cut), blend on high for 1 minute.
Place oil mixture in fridge for one day.
Strain over a fine mesh or cheesecloth into a container or squeeze bottle. I buy squeeze bottles in packs, they are inexpensive and very useful.
Do not push the mixture through or the oil will cloud.
Use oil.

Sure, not really a recipe or anything close to this gal. But the longest journey over the shortest pier, begins with the smallest step.

This morning I drizzled the basil oil over an omelet. The oil is pretty good; a lot of work. But then again, what else are you doing on a Wednesday night?