Roland G. Henin: 50 Years of Mentoring Great American Chefs

by Susan Crowther

  I wish I could have stayed longer. I think Chef was a bit upset that I didn’t stick it out, but it’s hard when you have a family. The way he’s handled his personal life is a lot different than the way I’ve handled mine. Sometimes he’s asking things of you that you just can’t … and it’s hard to tell him no. Once you do, you’re kind of on this little shit list for a while. [Laughs] He’ll never admit it, but you are.

  SUSAN: The few times he’s talked about his son, usually it’s in terms of fishing … when they go out together, how his son knows everything about fishing.

  WILLIAM: Everything has to do with fishing! At the end of conversations, it’s always some sort of fishing. He called me out of the blue a year ago, and he said, “Hey! I’m on the run, but listen. I need something from you!”

  “Sure, Chef, whatever you want.”

  “I need you to [laughs] I need you to send me five pounds of fresh sardine, un-gutted, and I want them ready, right from the bay.”

  I was like, “What? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I need them by Saturday.”

  “Um, I’ll look around Chef, but …” The sardines weren’t running in Monterey. The only ones we had were frozen.

  “No, no, no … they cannot be frozen!”

  He’ll call up, once in a while, with these crazy things. The guy has done so much for you; you don’t want to disappoint him. You always want to take care of him, when you can.

  * * *

  Some chefs choose values of family, flexible hours, etc. Some go for the money and prestige, becoming executive chefs. Some reach for rock star glory, stomping the spotlight. Some want it all, and a few can actually manage that. (Can we please bottle their blood for the rest of us?)

  And some … some choose cooking. They will forsake all else in their pursuit of perfection within the culinary art. For these select few, there is a distinct fork in the river, just for them … swimming upstream the entire way.

  For some fish, there is only one way home.

  The Salmon Run

  Twelve of us took the CMC examination in 2001. As the ten days marched along, we lost a few candidates. When we began the final day, there were eight of us. When day ten was over, only one chef passed the examination. In the past classes, the top chef scoring would get the Crystal Chef Award, and of course, Roland got that award for his class. When I was the only one that passed, the first thing Roland asked me was where was my Crystal Chef? Before I could get upset with him or request, How about congratulations? it dawned on me that he expected me to pass. He expected me to finish first, so “congratulations” was already displayed in all those practice sessions.

  Chef had perfect penmanship and handwrote everything in his notepads—hours upon hours, he would write critiques of the Olympic practices and observations. He would send these to us after he arrived back home. These were critiques, not encouragement messages; the encouragement was the fact that he took the time to write these for us, took the time to send them to us and cared enough to continue this practice for the entire time we met as a team. Somewhere in my boxes of trophies, photos, and medals, I have these letters.

  —Lawrence McFadden, CMC, CEO at Sunrice GlobalChef Academy

  Over ninety years ago in France, excellence was born. In 1924, a contest of sorts was created. Those awarded were given the title of Un Des Meilleurs Ouvriers de France, shortened to MOF: One of the Best Craftsmen of France. The MOF represents perfection in practice. One area of craftsmanship awarded is in the culinary arts. In a country where culinary arts were regarded as the best of the best, the culinary MOF shone like a three-star Michelin:

  In this competition, the candidate is given a certain amount of time and basic materials not only to create a masterpiece, but to do so with a goal of approaching perfection. The chosen method, the organization, the act, the speed, the knowhow and the respect for the rules of the trade are verified by a jury just as much as is the final result. The winning candidates retain their title for life, with the indication of the specialty, the year following the one in which they obtain the title. This prestigious title is equally recognized by professionals and the greater public in France, particularly among artisan-merchants such as pastrymakers, hairdressers, butchers, jewelers, and others whose trades are recognized, particularly those for more luxurious goods.

  This competition requires months, sometimes years, of preparation. Technical skills, innovation, respect for traditions and other aspects are all practiced repeatedly to a level of refinement and excellence, effectiveness and quickness to succeed and be crowned by the jury, which makes its decision according to the distribution of points awarded during the entire process.2

  A few years after Roland Henin crossed the ocean into America, the MOF followed suit. In 1980, Ferdinand Metz went to Germany and adopted the CMC program. He brought it back to America and adapted it, adding Supervisory Development, Nutrition, and Sanitation. As a way to honor the young European chefs who had spent their lives as culinary craftsmen, but who had forsaken their homeland, the idea took hold. In 1981, the United States unveiled their version of the MOF: the Certified Master Chef (CMC). The title of Certified Master Chef, presented solely by the American Culinary Federation in the United States, is the highest level of certification a chef can receive. It represents the pinnacle of professionalism and skill. Today, there are only sixty-eight CMCs and eleven Certified Master Pastry Chefs in the nation.

  What does it take to become a Certified Master Chef? Technically, it is the successful completion of eight days and 130 hours of practical and written examination; however, it is so much more than that. The CMC exam is the culmination of one’s life work, mastering culinary foundations and classical techniques. Without romanticizing the notion, the CMC is a stamp of excellence upon the soul.

  Over eight days of the CMC examination, Practical tests are administered in major segments:

  1. Healthy Cooking

  2. Buffet Catering

  3. Classical Cuisine

  4. Freestyle Cooking

  5. Global Cuisine

  6. Baking and Pastry

  7. Continental and Northern Europe Cuisines

  8. Market Basket

  A perfect score is 100 points and a minimum passing score per segment is 70 points. The minimum passing final cumulative score of the entire exam is 75 points. Since each scoring segment can have one to five judges, a candidate’s grade is determined by the average of the judge’s scores. The minimum passing score (the combined average of the kitchen skill, and presentation and tasting scores) for each segment is 70 points. And, here is the kicker: the last day counts the most. A candidate must have a cumulative passing score of 75 percent during the first seven days of the exam in order to participate in the last day of the exam.

  A candidate may continue with the examination, even if they fail one segment, but must maintain a cumulative average of 75 percent. The failure of two segments (less than 70 points) results in an automatic withdrawal from the examination.

  What does it take to earn the right to participate? Mastering culinary foundations of cooking is the beginning, the assumption. The CMC exam also requires mastery of ego.

  Roland Henin received his CMC title in 1983. At the time, he received the highest cumulative score, an 83.4, which earned him the Crystal Chef Award. Henin’s success relied on embracing a triangle system of Mind, Body, and Skills. All must be in top form, akin to running a marathon. These things feed off each other, for good or bad. As Henin preaches, “The worst enemy is the mind. A bad day can kill you.”

  While one does not “train” for the CMC, there may still be gap areas needing to be addressed. This would be the difference between adding a decorative vase on a dining room table to building the entire house. Henin knew he had gaps in the areas that were added to the MOF, so he audited classes at the CIA, while he was an instructor there.

  What Cost, a God?

  I did get married once, but as you know, with the time deman
ds of our business, it didn’t work too well…. Oh well. C’est la vie.

  —RGH

  The CMC path is not for everyone; indeed, it is barely for anyone. In almost forty years, there have been fewer than 70 chefs who have earned the right to be called Certified Master Chefs.

  What does it take to become a Certified Master Chef? Technically, it is the successful completion of eight grueling days and 130 intense hours, but it is so much more than that. The CMC exam is the culmination of one’s life work, mastering culinary foundations and classical techniques. The CMC title is a symbol of recognition, rather than assessment. It is the badge of honor.

  The CMC path is similar to a PhD program. PhD programs were originally intended to be the organic culmination of years in scholarly pursuit. You work, learn, and grow. In the process, you discover gaps, which lead to questions. It’s as if you, alone, were meant to answer these questions. You become insatiably curious, and you develop a passionate inquiry, which becomes the foundation of your research. Research is discovery; pursuing one’s research is, in a sense, self-discovery. It leads you to who you will become in life, fulfilling your purpose.

  By the time you enter your PhD program, you are already an expert. Earning the degree simply acknowledges years of education, experience, and dauntless pursuit.

  AMBARISH LULAY: We had another one of those learning moments at one time, when Chef pulls out a pen and paper and explains something. He explained the progression of a cook in the kitchen. If you hold a title, you should know what the title demands. If you have a title, such as Chef de Cuisine, then you are expected to know what a chef de cuisine should know, meaning you are as good or better than all the sous-chefs who work for you. You’re a mentor. You’re a trainer. If you’re a sous-chef, you’re better than the line cooks in the kitchen. You know every station like the back of your hand and can fill in. The traditional brigade is evident, and that’s where this conversation was headed.

  Chef pulls out a piece of paper and says, “This is how the progression works. We have building blocks in our business. The cook starts out, whether he is a dishwasher or a prep cook. Every step teaches you something. If you’re a dishwasher, it teaches you speed. It teaches you about cleanliness. If you’re a prep cook, it teaches you about being organized, working fast, and learning how to prioritize.” You learn, and I quote Chef when saying this, “We’re not in the business of creating waste. We’re in the business of creating food.” When you’re a prep cook, this is the time you learn that. You learn not to waste the onion, as you cut the onion … how much to trim off. Who knows how much to trim off the onion? Well, Chef does! They teach you that in culinary school, but as you go through, you learn all these good habits, and those can only happen in a good kitchen with somebody like him.

  Chef continues, “Then you make it to the pantry, as a salad cook. You learn how to get used to the lifestyle of the line cook without even touching hot food, yet. You learn how to organize your time, how to put up orders fast, and how to utilize stuff. You learn how to utilize leftovers, when you work in garde-manger. There is a team quality in a garde-manger chef.

  Once you’ve learned that, then you may be allowed on the hot line as a basic appetizer cook, an entremetier, or a vegetable cook. You make your way up the hot line: roast, sauté, fry, and grill. You work the stations, and you run this whole gamut. And then, you are responsible for your own station. You may become chef de partie, so not only have you learned your station, but you are learning responsibility for somebody else. You are not only performing, you now are also training. You’re passing on what you’ve learned to somebody else and are responsible for that person.

  Once you do those things well, that’s when you get to be the sous-chef.” (He drew this plan, with months and years attached to it, mind you. There’s a certain amount of time needed to spend at each of these stations to make it worthwhile.) “When you have done your time as a sous-chef, whether it is three, four, five years—learning all aspects of the kitchen, working hours and hours and hours—then, and only then, when the opportunity presents, you get to become the executive chef or chef de cuisine. All these things combined are what give you a solid foundation to be a chef. If any one of those things is missing, the foundation is not complete and will be a rocky foundation. Any time you jump before it’s time or you miss a rung of the ladder, you are going to miss out on some learning opportunities. If you follow the progression, there is no reason why a chef de cuisine should not know how to poach sweetbreads properly or how to turn a carrot properly. If that happens, that means there is a hole in the training somewhere. Sure, the theme of the restaurant might change, but nonetheless, the fundamentals are the fundamentals. They are building blocks. When you get to the position of executive chef, you deserve it.”

  It was a moment of clarity for me, knowing that if there is a hole in the game, it needs to be filled. How I get it filled is my problem, but it needs to be done. At that point in time it was important, because if I’m going to mentor young cooks, this is the road I’m going to take: put them through the rotation of things, make sure they do well, and then, give them the next step.

  * * *

  Many chefs possess the backbone, but still not every chef earns this CMC title. What kind of person becomes a CMC? Why do they purse this title when there are other titles worthy of prestige and value, such as the ProChef III or Executive Chef?

  What is the cost of becoming a god? What is sacrificed? Some chefs might say everything: family, friends, social life, sleep, and health. Do you enjoy television? If so, kiss the CMC title good-bye. Chef Henin does not own a television and never has. During dinner about midway through the CMC exam week, Henin brought up the subject of “downtime.” Some chefs choose to zone out in front of the television. Some choose to practice a deficit skill area. It’s all he said, but the gentle change in the tenor of his voice spoke volumes.

  Roland Henin left his home as a child, left his family and relatives, left France and Europe. He left his customs, culture, and traditions. He left stable jobs, security, and money. He had no home life, flying over two hundred days per year. His downtime came in the form of fishing, which saved his soul. “I did get married once, but as you know, with the time demands of our business, it didn’t work too well … Oh well. C’est la vie. I have a son who is about forty and doing well in Australia.”

  Roland is Zeus … but at what cost? Why did he sacrifice to become the god of cooking? Or, perhaps the question we must ask: was it worth it?

  RGH: I wonder: What’s my value? I had a feeling that I was “not much.” I started running to keep my sanity. Exercise was good. I started in Florida. The weather was good. It was a good way to keep in shape. Then, I began to take it seriously, running half-marathons. I wanted to test myself, to see if I am capable. At almost forty years old, I was wondering and running …

  Teaching at the CIA allowed me to do that—not working twelve or fourteen hours, I had time to research and reflect. Running cleared my head, relieved stress and tension. When under pressure, some go to drugs and alcohol. I got high from running. You lose weight, function better, and get to think about things. Teaching is hard. American kids can see through you. They knew more, but in the head, not in the way they needed, not with experience. I had lots of energy for the CMC test and to teach the kids. I could work doubles in the E-Room and graduation. Running gave me the energy to think about taking the CMC. It would have never come to me to take the CMC, otherwise.

  In 1981, the Certified Master Chef Exam was too new to get involved. But I still wonder: Who am I? What’s my value? In 1982, I had developed a bad knee from running and spent time recuperating. By 1983, I had the right knee fixed. It was the right place and the right time to take the CMC exam. I needed to know where I fit, where I was. I needed to improve some areas for the exam. I signed up for garde-manger, to learn the new techniques, and audited sanitation class and supervisory development. My foundation was there. I had my backbone. There wer
e twelve candidates taking the CMC exam. I received the Crystal Chef Award for the highest score in the CMC examination.

  This was a big turn in my life: passed the CMC; ran a marathon. I was more professional. I stopped questioning myself and had a better feeling of who I was. I did not know where I was going, but I had the foundation and values. I didn’t have “people” in my life. I had to find them myself. I knew I was good, but against whose standards? When I found out, I accomplished more. I became a better chef, a better human being.

  Death of the Master Chef?

  Achieving mastery is not what you do the last six months before the test. It is what you do for those twenty years, learning your craft. It is a way of life.

  —RGH

  The ACF instituted the Master Chef Certification in 1981. The CMC originally began as the US equivalent of the MOF, validating the European chefs who had immigrated—chefs like Roland Henin and Fritz Sonnenschmidt. In the late eighties and nineties, these original Master Chefs mentored young Europeans and a few American counterparts, sharing their secrets of the craft and forming the next wave of Master Chefs. Chefs such as Ron DeSantis and Raimund Hofmeister joined the CMC ranks. From the twenty-first century, CMCs like Rich Rosendale represent the next generation of chefs, trained not only in a variety of venues, but by a variety of trainers, creating a more diversified level, a kind of “Old versus New Testament” values-meshing.

  “Values-meshing” is good, but values clashing … not so much. Between the years 1981 and 1990, approximately fifty chefs earned the CMC title. Between 1990 and 2016, only eighteen chefs earned the title. In the 1980s, approximately 70 percent would pass, averaging ten CMCs per examination. Nowadays, approximately 15 percent pass. Furthermore, the exam’s rigor has decreased since its inception. For instance, the exam is now an eight-day event, compared to its original ten-day schedule. Fewer tests are given in both written and practical areas. Despite its modifications, the CMC exam, in Henin’s opinion, is the best international test, even better than the MOF; in fact, Germany adopted the CMC format for its certification.