BRING on the recession. I’m sick of fortune-hunting chefs kitchen hopping like spastic bunnies. Chain the cooks to their stoves. Enslave them like ballplayers before free agency.
Prosperity is great for restaurant owners and restaurant-goers. But with so much money around, every chef has an eye on bigger things.
This is equally true for the “chef de cuisine,” who actually toils in the kitchen, and the more famous “executive chef,” often forbidden by union rules from even touching a pot or pan.
Some starry-eyed chefs want TV gigs, cookbooks and names so big they will never again have to actually earn their keep in a stifling kitchen. Who would not want to be Bobby Flay or Mario Batali?
Others long for the role of empire-building entrepreneur, like Drew Nieporent or Jean-Georges Vongerichten, or executive, like David Burke (Alan Stillman’s Smith & Wollensky empire) or David Walzog (the Glazier Group, owner of Michael Jordan’s, Tapika and Strip House).
More common are the ambitious souls who love the work, but won’t stay put. You can’t blame them for leaping at a bigger salary, a piece of ownership or a chance to carve out an identity – common lures in these overheated times.
A few months ago, Eberhard Muller bolted Lutece, where any chef fights an uphill struggle against the place’s creaky image and the memory of Andre Soltner. Muller went as far downtown as it is possible to go, to Bayard, at the tip of Manhattan – even though the Financial District is all but deserted at night.
Meandering-chef mania is so out of control that The Post’s Web site now warns readers who look up old reviews when a kitchen has changed hands.
Editor’s notes now advise, “Chef Fabrice Canelle is no longer at the Russian Tea Room . . . Brad Duhame is no longer at Vox 646 . . . Michael Otsuka is no longer at Thalia, where the menu has changed completely.”
A few days ago, theater-going friends of mine reported a disappointing meal at Thalia. Wasn’t Thalia a hot, well-reviewed new restaurant? It was – but all bets were off once Otsuka left, after less than a year, and his exciting Asian-fusion menu was scrapped in favor of generic New American.
The change doesn’t have to be that radical to make a difference. At Patria, management meant to stick with the basic Nuevo Latino program of founding chef Doug Rodriguez, who bolted for Chicama last year. And new chef Andrew DiCataldo, up from the ranks, has earned his own legion of fans.
But all the dishes now reflect DiCataldo’s vision, even if some sound the same as before. And if you crave Rodriguez’s whole crispy fried red snapper with coconut rice, it’s outta there, replaced by DiCataldo’s vatapa, Brazilian red snapper stewed with shrimp and coconut milk.
With so many new places clamoring for attention, how can you follow what’s going on at old favorites you thought you knew? The torrent of new openings, many more than in the boom-and-bust ’80s, overwhelms most diners’ efforts to keep track.
My review of Monkey Bar and chef Andrew Chase last spring included this sentence: “By my count, this ambitious chef has been at six restaurants since 1988. Catch him at Monkey Bar while you can.”
If you waited this long, you’re out of luck: Chase is gone.
Last week was full of news of chefs on the move. Besides Chase leaving Monkey Bar, Kevin Penner exited Della Femina. With Palladin closed, Jean-Louis Dumonet is headed for Rhone. So every word you ever read about the food at Monkey Bar, Della Femina and Rhone is null and void.
Rhone, in the Meatpacking District, took a beating in these pages a few months ago. The hiring of well-regarded Dumonet sounds like a serious commitment on the part of management. But with new restaurants opening every week, what is the likelihood I’ll get back to Rhone any time soon?
Last week, I ate at Aleutia, an ambitious new Asian-fusion restaurant on Park Avenue South. The chef is Gavin Citron. I recall that Citron took over at the old Celadon after original chef Tadashi Ono left for the new Sono nearly two years ago.
But Citron never had a chance to make his mark at Celadon. Having reviewed the place during Ono’s tenure, critics were not about to return for a new and less well-known chef. The restaurant soon closed. I hope Citron stays longer at Aleutia than Ono did at Celadon.
The city’s classic French establishments have borne the brunt of the mass migration. Last summer, Le Perigord took on Jacques Qualin, former sous chef at Jean-Georges. Qualin’s arrival at Perigord, well reviewed everywhere, brought this bastion of French classicism some overdue attention.
It looks like a different story at another French classic, La Caravelle. A few months ago, Cyril Renaud left to open his own place, Fleur de Sel. By every account, Fleur de Sel is terrific. But what about Caravelle?
With Renaud gone, Caravelle seems to care more about promoting its 40th anniversary than about promoting new chef Eric Di Domenico. Worshipful coverage has mentioned just about everyone who has eaten there since 1960. The strategy has not lured the dining millions, and at my last meal there, a wonderful November lunch, the room was nearly empty.
Last but hardly least is the departure of executive chef Sottha Kuhnn from Le Cirque, even though it was long planned and first predicted in The Post last summer.
Le Cirque has been more or less untouchable since it opened in its new Palace Hotel digs in 1997. All bets are off now. New York’s most glamorous restaurant is begging for another look. Just don’t say anything to Sirio, okay?