Fast-forward to the next year … the American Culinary Classic is happening in Chicago. Media was my job—they had to go through me. This particular time, I needed to be up at 3:00 a.m. because the NBC morning show was filming (or one of the top network shows). I get back to the room around midnight, get to sleep, and the next thing I know, the lights are flying on. Roland cracks open a Heineken and sits there, relaxing. I’m only gonna get two hours of sleep. I’m kind of mad … but no big deal. I come back after filming, and Henin’s out working with the team. I took all of his stuff and messed it up: all the bottles, the tubes, moved everything around. I even rearranged his clothes in the closet. He came after me: “You asshole!” It was hilarious, but that’s the kind of stuff we would do.
The team manager was Keith Keogh, corporate executive chef of Epcot. Keith is a Florida boy and fancies himself as a fisherman. Roland is an excellent fisherman, and they would constantly go at each other as to who was better. They had “sparring fishing bouts,” if you will. Keith would go up to Washington State and fish with Roland and when Roland was down here for the US Culinary Team, we would fish. The first time, we went out on Bay Lake in Walt Disney World—a manmade lake right in front of the Magic Kingdom, where they have the paddleboats. You can’t go on it to fish. Nobody knows this, but really, you can. There were two pontoon boats available for mostly key Disney staff members at Fort Wilderness that you could take out and go fishing. Of course, Keith knew that. We get out on the lake, and the day before, Roland pulls me aside. We’re gonna go bass fishing, and he doesn’t know a lot about that. I said, “Here’s the trick. I know Keith. He’s going to use artificial bait. If you want to get some big fish, you need to use live bait.” Roland says, “You got to get it for me.”
We were leaving at 5:00 a.m. I had to go to this bad part of Orlando to find a bait store that was open, just to get shiners … I mean, a place where you really didn’t want to be at five in the morning! These shiners … they were the size of my hand! Huge! I’ve never seen shiners that big, in my life! [Laughs] I said, “I definitely want some of those.” When we got out there, we caught these monster fish! Then we went to one of the Epcot restaurants, back into the kitchen, cooked them up, and ate them. This is where the fight came up between those two. It was so funny, because Roland, of course, is giving him a hard time. Why would you use artificial? He’s going off on him, how it’s wrong, it’s plastic, you put plastic in the water, why … that’s the kind of guy Roland was—such a naturalist!
Oh my God, one time we were in New York City in 1995 for the ACF National Convention. We had serious judges, and Roland was always one. Some were European and some were not, so it was a good balance. Another Roland was Roland Schaeffer, a German chef. The two Rolands were the key judges in this competition. At different times of the day, they were judging different things. Roland Schaeffer was another extremely good judge, always nitpicking things down to the dime. We had been going at this for three days, videotaping the entire time. It gets to the point where there are just so many dishes, even for the judges.
The theme of the convention was like a Letterman show. We were doing like Stupid Chef Tricks. So we go to McDonald’s. I swear to God. We’re in Times Square, at the Marriott Marquis, and we go to McDonald’s and buy a Happy Meal. Roland Henin takes the Happy Meal and displays it on a plate … I mean, to the point where he even put the toy on, as a garnish. It was done in such a way that it looked really good. The food runners would come in for the food. The plate was completely covered and the runner opens it up for the judges. I’ll never forget Roland Schaeffer. He’s looking at it and sees the toy. He’s like, “Hmmm … this is interesting …” Oh my God, it was one of the funniest things I had ever seen. We were in tears; crying … it was so funny. The judges were laughing, when they finally figured it out.
We videotaped it, because nobody saw it live but us. We showed it at the General Session, in front of 1,800 members, the next day. The whole place—it was just a roar. It was that short hesitation … taking it seriously … that made it so funny. If we had just put the Happy Meal on the plate it in its original paper, it wouldn’t have been as funny. But the hesitation of taking it halfway seriously … made it. And it was Roland Henin who pulled that off.
Another classic was the trick he learned from me. When we arrived at a hotel, I would hang my clothes up in the bathroom, turn the hot water on, and steam the wrinkles out of them. He was trying out the technique. This is another Chicago event—I think the team tryouts for the 1996 team. I’m up early, in the hall … there’s nobody up this time of night, of course—just the competitors. All I can hear is Roland coming down this long hallway, and I mean, nobody’s around now, not even the union workers. It’s just us back in the competition area, and I hear, “YOU ASSHOLE!!!”
I’m like, “Whoa, whoa … what’s the matter? I didn’t do anything. What are you talking about?”
“Because of you, my clothes are ruined!”
“Whaddayou mean?”
I would always hang my clothes up on the shower curtain. The way he did it, he pulled a little white string across and then hung his clothes on that, on hangers. Of course, as the clothes got more moisture in them from the steam, they got a little heavier … and so they drooped down … they landed in the tub, and then everything was soaking wet, all of his clothes. He had to take everything down to the lobby, and it all had to be dry-cleaned. He was so pissed at me.
SUSAN: What attracted you to each other, other than perfectionism?
KEVIN: It was mutual respect between the two of us. We enjoyed our conversations. We both love to travel, we love food and wines. One of my favorite lines that Roland said … we were doing Mystery Baskets way before the Food Network ever thought of doing them. The Culinary Olympic teams were doing them forever. You don’t know what you’re going to get. There’s just product, and you have to make whatever you’re given. Some of the team members were complaining about Mystery Baskets, and his line was, “I don’t know why you think Mystery Basket is so, so, so … big of a problem! My mother, she did that every day. She come home! She open the fridge! She make what she have.” It’s true, when you think about it, especially with Europeans. My grandmother was like that, too. She used whatever was around! They raised rabbits, so we ate rabbits! They raised chickens, so we had chickens. You had what you had, and you made the best of it. You go into market, and you find the best ingredients you can find, and that’s what you ate.
Roland came to my house a couple of times. My sister was dating a guy who was a big hunter, so he would bring over wild game. That was fun to get into the kitchen with Roland, because some of that stuff is pretty tricky to cook properly. Little things reversed my way of thinking. I was steeped in Northern Italian cuisine. We raised all the animals we ate and all that. Roland taught me some things, even about salad dressings, which was totally reversed from what my grandmother did. She would always put the olive oil on the lettuce first and then put the vinegar in afterward, saying that the oil coats the lettuce, and the vinegar will stick to the oil, which, if you think about it, doesn’t make sense at all—like oil and water! If you’re going to emulsify it, okay, maybe. Roland said that if you’re just going to make a quick salad, you put the vinegar on first. That coats the lettuce, and then the oil goes in. That’s how I’ve made my salad ever since, plus you use a hell of a lot less oil. He showed me that salad technique like, twenty-five years ago, and it changed me, from then on. Once he said it, I was like, duh. That makes all the sense in the world. We’d do little stuff like that and marinating meats, venison, etc. We worked with a lot of game. I grew up eating rabbit. Marinating the venison, you’d use shallots and red wine. He was so good at the balance between sweet and acidic and adding richness to dishes. He’d marinate something and then make a sauce with the marinade afterward … he utilized everything.
SUSAN: Did he influence your own mentoring style?
KEVIN: Yes, there’s no doubt. There are people who know
a lot but want to keep the knowledge to themselves, as a kind of advantage. He truly wants to share his knowledge to help people get better. A lot of people stay competitive; he was collaborative. The culinary field lends itself to an apprenticeship and mentoring type of industry. It’s an industry of passion and you share that passion with the people around you. Roland has one of the biggest hearts in the industry. He is so good at helping the younger generation, instilling the values of what makes this industry great.
With the Chef’s Associations I run, we reach out to these young up-and-coming rising star chefs and get them involved in the events that we do in their cities. Chris Gould is one of them! He’s definitely someone you’re going to read about five to ten years from now, as one of the generation leaders. One of the things I love about these events is hearing people say, “The first time I saw that chef was with you, Kevin, at your ICC summit.” I’m always looking for these gems out there who are going to be something.
Kevin Doherty
Executive Chef, TD Garden, Delaware North
He must see something in me, because he put a lot of time and energy into trying not to kill me.
KEVIN: My first impression of Chef Henin was about fifteen years ago: Uh oh. Angry French chef. Didn’t know what to expect and had never worked for a Certified Master Chef. The question that runs through your brain: Are they that good? Sitting here after the fact—yes, they are. You think you know a lot until you stand next to someone like Chef. He forgets more in one day than I know.
Chef as a mentor … this is an interesting concept. Chef will never spoon-feed you anything. We’ll have a conversation and if your ears are on the right way, he’ll help you get to the answer through a roundabout conversation. He’ll tell you about growing up in France or working for this particular restaurant or hotel or club or doing the Olympics … If you’re listening, you get the story as well as an idea of next steps. If you’re giving your 50 percent, he’ll give his 50 percent, but if you’re only giving 10 percent, he’s going to get angry and not further the conversation or the commitment that was started.
His method of teaching is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. A good example would be boning out a pig trotter. I sent Chef some examples of pictures.
“Oh!” he says, “I used to carve ice.”
I’m thinking, What does ice have to do with a pig trotter? I’m going to bone out a pig trotter and he’s going to tell me about ice carving.
He says, “When you’re carving the ice you have those nice chisels and some of them are rounded.”
There was the story. My ears were open.
“You know, those chisels are quite handy for different things.”
It was his way of getting me to understand the bone structure of what that trotter is. I didn’t use a chisel. I brought it in to see what it would do, but eventually I got to do it with my boning knife. I sent Chef the finished picture later and he goes, “You see, it’s not that difficult.” Yet, he never showed me … directly.
The first real experience with this was getting ready for Germany. The team of chefs were like, “Put up a garde-manger platter.” I was like, “Oh my God, I’ve never done this. I have no idea. I have basic skills.” Practicing for Germany, one of the garnishes for my platter was asparagus. I can peel asparagus. No, I can’t. I had been peeling asparagus for probably three hours and chef was getting frustrated. “Chef Kevin, you need to think about what you are doing. Why would you peel asparagus with a peeler?”
“I don’t know. I’m stupid, Chef.”
“Maybe you need to go wash a pot.”
My ears are open, but I was frustrated, and now I’m going to go wash my dishes! And then … Wow. A green scrubby is an amazing thing. The green scrubby takes off that ultra-thin layer of that vegetable, removing the fiber. It’s a life lesson. God! I’ll talk with other chefs, Chef Percy or Chef Scott Green. They’ll ask, “Do you think there’s a solution to every single thing?” My answer is yes. I just think we have not been exposed to perfection around us, our entire life. We were brought into the game late. I wish I had met Chef Henin thirty-five years ago. He probably would have killed me, but I think about how far along I would have been. He probably would have killed me, without any doubt. The mentorship blows your mind to think about it.
Taking the ProChef Certification through the CIA, I would update Chef on my progress. At the end, I said, “Chef, I scored 97 percent on one of the disciplines.”
“Why didn’t you get the 100?”
“I couldn’t peel the pineapple correctly.”
“That’s five bucks and I’ll show you. You peel one and I’ll peel one, next time we’re together.”
Knowing how to peel the pineapple correctly cost me three points on this exam. I had never known.
SUSAN: How does he peel a pineapple?
KEVIN: You take the top of it off and you take the bottom of it off, so it’s flat. When you look at the pattern there, it tells you how to peel it. So gently—and I believe Chef uses a serrated knife—you take off the smallest amount of skin you possibly can. You’re still going to leave the “eyes,” if you will. Then you lay it on its side and you look at the pattern of the eyes. They make a corkscrew pattern, so if you take your paring knife and you make a “V” channel, you V and you spin it and you V it back in this tiny little canal, you remove all the eyes. His waste is 50 percent less than mine, and his pineapple is already garnished by the time he gets to that stage of the competition.
We did a GM conference in Florida ten years ago. He said, “Chef Kevin, I’d like you to clean the fish for me.”
Oh man, I’m in trouble. I’m not a hack; I can clean fish, but before my knife even touches the skin, he stops me and says, “You’re from Boston and you can’t clean fish?”
“Yes, Chef. I must be stupid, Chef. I’m sorry.”
So there was a demo for all of the chefs on the right way to handle that creature. Do justice to the animal that was caught, killed, and now used for food. It’s the right thing to do. A lot of people take it for granted—whether vegetables or fish or whatever the product is, it needs to be given the utmost respect. I mean, we’re a wasteful society. I think that’s one of Chef’s messages, indirectly.
Chef Ambarish Lulay was in Germany with us. We’ve had multiple conversations about how Chef knows how to clean all these fish. He’s a fisherman, but I believe he was a fish in his last life. Seriously, he talks to them. He speaks fish.
There was a group of us back in the day that did some competitions—Scott Green, Ambarish Lulay, two folks who are no longer at Delaware North, and me. There was talk with Buffalo that Chef wanted to take a team of chefs to Germany to compete, because our competitors do it. We did the whole project in eighteen months. Just think if we had done what the national team does; they’re three and a half years into training! We practiced once a month, for eighteen months, and then hopped on a plane and went to Germany, not knowing what to expect. We were young, dumb, and stupid.
The first day of the competition, we’re waiting outside at around four in the morning in the rain. There’s a group of chefs there with us.
“Oh, Chef Henin! Nice to see you. We haven’t seen you in twenty years. What are you doing in Germany?”
“I brought my team to compete.”
Here’s the five of us from the United States, and we were like clowns.
“What?”
“Well, this is my team from America.”
You talk to these other chefs. We had no idea, the company we were in, during the Olympics.
They were polite. Instead of saying, “Aren’t these guys out of their league?” It was, “Wow. What are they doing here?” [Laughs]
We did all right. Held our own. You spend eighteen months training, twice a month. We spent three solid weeks together, in Germany. We’re a lot more than just colleagues who work for the same company, now. These are friends, but also kind of brothers. And, here’s Chef Henin, steering us along.
“A
ll right, we need to do this.”
“Why do we need to do that, Chef?”
“We need to know where the place is, right?”
“Well, yes.”
“We need to know what the drive is going to be like at three in the morning, when we have your platter and all the ingredients to build the platter. Do we know the way? Will we get lost? Is there a detour? Is there going to be traffic?”
Wow, that’s brilliant. Not get up the morning of and find out the road’s closed due to construction. Nothing is left without a plan. I go back to that. It’s too valuable that we were all there, competing, and nothing was left to chance.
SUSAN: What did Chef Henin see in you?
KEVIN: He must see something, because he put a lot of time and energy into trying not to kill me. Whether it is commitment or integrity, I don’t know. I like to think I have integrity. It’s trying to do the right thing, whether or not I know what the right thing is all the time—maybe that’s the piece. He forces you to understand: you need to be able to stand there and look in the mirror and say, How do I rate myself? You know the devil and the angel on each shoulder? Will you listen to that voice that’s been pounded into your head for ten, fifteen years? The shortcut is unacceptable. You know the right thing to do, and that’s the hardest piece. Most everybody wants to take that shortcut—that’s the easiest way, but not always the right way. Chances are it’s the wrong way.
Roland G. Henin: 50 Years of Mentoring Great American Chefs Page 14