We talked about certification, culinary acceleration, and my career—things I never thought about. I figured, we just go to work and grind it out, and one day, you run into a movie camera or something like that, and then you become famous. Chef Roland brought me down to planet Earth. “Hey, look, kid, quit dreaming and start doing.” That was the beginning. I was nervous as well, but ever since then, we stuck to the rail and now we’re reaching for the next goal, a twelve-month plan to ProChef II.
Chef Roland is the standard. He’s a classic, and in culinary, that says a lot. We studied from a book that’s two hundred years old, and it’s still relevant today. With Chef, there’s no faking your craft. If you take a shortcut, or you cheat, or you try to make things go faster, he’s going to spot you from a mile away and call you out on it. With Chef Roland, there’s only one way to do things, and that’s the right way, the way it’s been done for hundreds of years. I guess I would describe him as a rock. Solid. An oak. He stands true to his beliefs. He encourages us to stand with our beliefs, as well.
We were in competition, on the last day. Chef Juan and another chef were working on this cranberry reduction. I was watching, making fun of how stupid that is, to just sit there and reduce the sauce. Chef Juan goes, “Put some xanthan gum in it.” There’s probably twenty yards of traffic between Chef Roland and that pot of cranberry sauce, and he stops the press. “If you want to cheat, go home now!” At that point, I was straining eggs, kind of haphazardly. I slowed down and started straining them through a fine sieve. That took me the rest of the day, but we did see how shortcuts end up different than the original method; it may be just a slight difference, but it’s there. You can tell in the quality, texture, and the flavor.
JUAN CARLOS VALDEZ, FORT LAUDERDALE: Once we finished the dish and everything was done right, he made us do it again: “Okay guys, make it better now. Let’s change this. Let’s change that.” We’re doing the Famous Fish Taco. First, we did it with tempura. Then, we blackened it. Then we grilled it. We changed the tortilla. We did it with a crispy tortilla, with a soft tortilla, with a white corn tortilla, and with a blue corn tortilla … you name it. We went through measurements each time, to make the dish perfect. Even though it was a fish taco, it was a perfect fish taco. Now when I do something, I think, How can I make this better?
ADOLFO CALLES, LOS ANGELES: I was doing these tartlets—vegetable shells. We put mixed greens in a light shell. He brought in these tools that you can’t find anywhere else anymore. As I was making that recipe, he tasted it, and said, “Adolfo, I see you need something else in there.” My eyes were wide. He looks at me, smiles the biggest smile. “You need something else.” I said, “Okay.” I couldn’t make the tool work, because the shells kept sticking to it as I was frying them. So, I changed the recipe a little bit. I got a couple of eggs, and added some more herbs, and all of a sudden, it starts working. He comes back and tells me, “You see, I told you, that recipe needed help, but I didn’t want to tell you what.”
NICK: Preparation is the most important ingredient. Being prepared and having a sharp knife will set you up for success. If you don’t have proper timelines, then something can come up and put you off of your game. I’m a competent person, but I had no idea how important that was. Even I could get shook up and embarrass myself. If you plan every detail, no one will be able to shake you.
In the past, we never even got together to practice for these competitions. This time, we had a training week in Fort Lauderdale and a couple days in New Orleans. Another training session was coming up in Fort Lauderdale, when Chef Adolfo and I also had a conference to attend in New York City. I thought, No big deal. We’ll get two days knocked out, do some dishes, and then we can go to this other conference in New York City. Chef Roland finds out and gets furious. We were on a conference call and I thought the phone was going to explode: “If this training isn’t so important then maybe we shouldn’t even be involved in it.” I’m thinking, at first, Throw the baby out with the bathwater! I’m like, well, we’ve done a good job already, and his point was, if we weren’t fully committed to this, then how could we possibly get anything out of it? Our flights are booked, our rooms are booked, and it simply didn’t matter; if it was important for us to be a part of this training, we can cancel. Needless to say, I still have a Delta credit somewhere. He’s got a way of changing your mind. “Are you in or are you out?” There’s no halfway. All of us know the gravity that is Roland Henin. You are just drawn to him. He’s got the answers; he’s the key.
We were at the Nestlé plant, where they make their Minor’s base, like chicken base. They produce a million different flavorings. You name it and they’ll make it, and if they don’t make it, they’ll get it. We go down, have some fun, have a few drinks and eat. We also do this cooking competition: cook a dish in forty-five minutes using Minor’s bases and then declare a winner. Well, this year, Chef Roland and another chef came along. He took over the competition, and now it was going to be on Olympic standards. [Laughs] I, for one, was not prepared for this. My thought process wasn’t there. I do get very serious about cooking at serious times, but that was a big lesson: You don’t pick and choose when to take your craft seriously. A real chef doesn’t treat his craft that way.
We started cooking, gathering our ingredients, and he’s walking around, asking questions: “Is your mise en place set up? Where is your timeline? What is your goal? What is the plan for this dish?” Needless to say, the Nestlé group wasn’t altogether happy. They just kind of got kicked out of their whole deal. Chef would not take this lightly, would not waste an opportunity to learn something and gain that “pressure” experience. They were walking around with their pads and timers, judging us. That was another one of those funny stories if I wasn’t the one involved.
DAWN: First and foremost, my takeaway is how limited our resources are, coming from travel hospitality. They only recently created this culinary presence in the airport, having chefs in our unit. Many of our kitchens use “quick-prepared” products. We don’t have a lot of kettles, ovens, or space to create everything from scratch. All of us went out and bought several pieces of equipment—pots, pans, utensils. We were accustomed to taking shortcuts. He made us question the integrity of our products: getting the scratch items prepared; pushing back and asking for specific equipment; and making a plan to get the resources we need for quality products, with the support of our management team, in the restraint of the budget.
For a lot of the competition, I was afraid of being called out, but by the end of it, I felt a lot more at ease about being corrected immediately for stuff, especially the “heirloom tomato situation.” We were doing heirloom tomatoes for part of our fish taco: get the kettle boiling; blanch the tomatoes; and peel them. I began blanching the tomatoes. They were scored, but I had them in the water for definitely more than five or ten seconds. I had an ice water bath behind me on the counter and the ice bath had been moved on me. Chef Roland called me out right away and asked me why the ice bath wasn’t immediately next to it. And, why were there more than two tomatoes in my kettle at one time? There weren’t good answers for it; I definitely learned a lesson. After fifteen or twenty minutes, he came back around and said, “I never would have questioned you, if I didn’t care. If I didn’t see potential in you and didn’t want you to know the proper way to do it, I would have never called you out.”
My future goal is to pass my Practical, which will be the beginning of March, and continue to do outreach projects. I’m on a project with Chef Henin building an educational kitchen for our local Boys and Girls Club. Looking back at the past year, it’s amazing to go from sitting across a boardroom table trembling, being talked to loudly, to just before the competition started, him coming up to me and helping me fix my chef coat, collar, and bow tie.
Although Chef Henin wasn’t present during the Practical, his presence was felt all over the Niagara Falls Culinary Institute that week. As I was setting up my station on the first day, I happened to loo
k up at the hood and noticed a quote from him staring back at me. It said, “What is average? The best of the worst and the worst of the best. Why be average?”
As I was looking at my final presentation, after the test was over, I realized it was a culmination of conversations and critiques with Roland Henin that had begun over a year ago. I didn’t even realize it, until I looked at everything as a whole: the positioning of each component of the menu; recipes; mise en place; even the presentation booklet.
Aside from Chef Henin coaching me on technique, menu, and expectations, he supported my mindset in the couple weeks leading up to the Practical. He complimented my progress and appreciated my willingness to work hard to be successful. About a week before I was ready to leave, I told him I wanted to do three more runs before I left. He slowed me down and made me realize I needed to pace myself for the final hurdle. He told me to stop touching food and focus on the little things I needed to be prepared for the week. I was surprised he was telling me to walk away from the food, get rest, and not get burned out from practicing. He said, “Trust me. Do not touch the food because you want to be hungry to do it again when you get there.” He was right … it surprised me how much I wanted to get into the kitchen and start cooking!
I ended up passing the Practical and am now filing the final paperwork for my Certified Sous Chef certificate. It was a lot of hard work, and although I feel a sense of relief for completing it, it also feels kind of empty. I walked down the hallway after it was over and my equipment was packed, thinking, That’s it? It’s over, now what? Now I turn my focus to the next level of certification. Chef Henin told me to be careful because it can become addicting. I laughed, but once again I think he was right!
So it will be with Henin, too. Mentoring is addicting, and while he may be retired, he will continue. Please keep him posted.
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1 From Delaware North, www.delawarenorth.com, accessed May 2017
The Fork in the River
Tagging studies have shown a small number of fish don’t find their natal rivers, but travel instead up others, usually nearby streams or rivers. It is important some salmon stray from their home areas; otherwise new habitats could not be colonized.
—T. P. Quinn, Mechanisms of Migration in Fishes
Throughout his life, Chef Henin faced forks in the river. His father died when he was young. As the elder son, it became his responsibility to care for the younger siblings, while his mother found work to support their family. He rose to the challenge, sacrificing the simple life of a nine-year-old. When his mother remarried, he and his stepfather clashed. Roland, then a young teen, favored a social life with his peers. His stepfather would not allow Roland to come and go as he pleased. An ultimatum was given, and Roland left the family home to secure room and board through the pastry apprenticeship.
We might think that moral dilemmas arrive later in life, when our careers are well-established, but young Roland faced such dilemmas before the age of ten. It seems he was born to diverge: Do I take the easy way, or do I choose the right way? Do I float in the river, or do I choose to swim upstream? As the river grew more complex and unyielding, his integrity remained constant.
Every chef faces such moments in their career, when they are forced to consider: Do I forsake my values, or do I forsake this situation? If I remain in this role, on this path, will I be true to myself? Sometimes, the answer may be clear, but that doesn’t make it any easier … especially when the decision creates a fork in the river between you and Roland Henin.
WILLIAM BENNETT: When working with him, it didn’t hit me, but looking back now, I was a cook, until I met Roland. That’s when I started to become a professional chef—the big turning point. He was the spark that lit the whole fire: the world of good cuisine; the people involved; the ingredients; what it takes, the work ethic; the tools and the training and the staff you’re going to need.
The whole time you are around him, he’s testing and grooming you to be the next person in line. There was a time when I thought, Wow. If he keeps pushing me to these new positions, and I’m doing bigger and better things, maybe when he retires someday, I might be able to do what he does. I’m not going to be him, but just take his position and do these great things. I think we both saw that. It wasn’t spoken, but he was grooming me. I think he was always looking to make sure that he’s going to build the team up and there’s going to be people in place, so that when he’s not there, they can keep the quality level up and do well for the company.
My first child was born when I was working for DN in Los Angeles. I was working for a different branch of the company that wasn’t under his specific direction, but still looked to him as my leader. My wife was going to give birth right around Christmas. I made arrangements with my GM to take two weeks’ vacation then, to be there with my wife, the kid, and everything. He says, “Oh yeah, absolutely. It’s the best thing you can do …”
About a month before my daughter was born, Roland called me and said, “Hey, I need you to go here and there with me and help with this party.”
I said, “Look, that’s right about the time that my first kid is being born.” I said that obviously, I had to be there.
He says, “No, no, no, no, that’s fine. Stay while the kid is born, and then after, you can come and help.”
“Well, we don’t know exactly when she’s coming out so … [Laughs] I can’t give you an exact date.”
My baby is born on Christmas day. He calls me on the twenty-seventh and says, “Okay, so everything’s good. I’m gonna buy your ticket.”
“Whoa … my baby is born, Chef. I got a baby girl.”
“Oh, great! Is she healthy? Everything good?”
“Everything’s great! Mom’s good. Just got home, yesterday.”
“Okay, good.” And he just went back to talking about how I was going to fly to here and there …
“No, no, Roland. You don’t understand. I’m on two weeks’ vacation.”
“No, it’s okay. You can get your vacation package and just come back to work.”
“No, no, no … I’m here with my baby, my family. I want to spend time with them.”
“Well, what’s the problem? You told me everything’s okay. The baby is okay and the mom is healthy?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, why can’t you go?”
[Laughs] I said, “Look. I don’t want to disappoint you, but there’s no way I can go. I’m taking the time off. I have to tell you, no.”
He was not happy. You just kind of fall out of favor with him when you can’t come through. He made a lot of sacrifices to get where he was. Sometimes he expects other people who are like-minded to do the same thing. That was the line for me: “While I’d love to come with you, I’m not going to give up the two weeks I’m never going to have again to be alone with my new baby and my wife.”
We keep talking. He’s saying, “You said she is healthy. What’s the—I don’t understand it.”
I got off the phone and wanted to cry … Oh my God, the guy hates me now. [Laughs]
I didn’t take the time off to make sure they’re healthy; I took the time off to be there. At that time, I don’t think he understood that.
* * *
I wanted to go to Europe, and he helped me plan out this thing where DN was basically going to pay for me to go. I was planning work in France, Italy, and Spain. He helped me draft a proposal to the owners of DN that if they sponsored me—he hated that word; I couldn’t use it because it sounded like we were begging for things—or provided me the means to go to Europe, I would work in these kitchens for free, for two or three years. He was going to set me up with a few chefs over there. I would come back with all that knowledge, and I would basically be like an indentured servant to DN.
There was a big meeting in Yosemite, and I was one of the cooks. I had the proposal and submitted it to the owners. That was on September 10, 2001. The next day, I was in the bakery, early in the morning. There was this litt
le black and white TV that had half a mile of tinfoil coming off the thing, trying to get it to work. There was this breaking news off the TV. It sounded like some dummy in a private plane hit the World Trade Center. The guy in the bakery says, “Oh, you guys gotta see this!” When we walked in, we saw the smoke in the building. We went back into the kitchen and told Roland. He said, “We have stuff to do. You shouldn’t be watching TV. Stay out of it, and get your work done.” Then the second plane hit the building. He glanced at the TV with us, but we couldn’t pay attention to it; we had to keep up at our work.
Everything got thrown to the winds after that. They wouldn’t even consider my proposal. Henin convinced me to go with my own money and do the best I could until my funds ran out. He helped prepare me to go. Being a sous-chef for his events prepared me to work in the French kitchen, where things were ten times coarser than with Roland. He saw that I could handle that kind of stuff. I ended up going to France and spent four months over there working. My wife and I went over there, and we basically ran out of money supporting ourselves and came back. Without his mentorship, I never would have even thought about going to work in France. Working in a three-star Michelin restaurant in Paris was eye-opening. I was so interested to see how the best in the world run a kitchen. How do they do it? How do they make the food? How is that different than what I’m doing? What do I need to do to get on that level?
I had to find the restaurants. I went to every three-star restaurant in Paris with my résumé. Most of them didn’t make it past the maître d’. I’m sure they just threw it in the garbage. Taillevent accepted my résumé and signed me up for a stage—a work-for-free agreement. I faxed Roland some French paperwork about the rules. He signed it for me and warned, “Don’t do anything you’re not supposed to do, because I’m signing the papers!” I followed in the footsteps of Thomas Keller (who also staged at Taillevent). Chef Henin did this for Thomas, and now he’s doing this for me. I felt the pride in that and didn’t want to let anybody down. I’m no three-star European chef by any means, but having been around Roland and then France, when I do cook, that is my approach. It may not be a three-star meal, but if I can get it to one star today, maybe I can get it to two stars by next year. That’s been my goal.
Roland G. Henin: 50 Years of Mentoring Great American Chefs Page 27