Roland G. Henin

by Susan Crowther

  Chef’s way is the only way. Some of his associates shy away from him because his critiques are incredibly intimidating, but then a lot of them will warm up. Some of the younger students burst into tears and fall to pieces under the pressure of his critique. The professionals appreciate his critiques, in that they see another side of the cuisine and presentation. The first time he ever judged me was in Spokane, Washington. Chef says, “I am teetering on this gold medal.”

  I asked, “Why are you teetering on it?”

  “Because you’re wearing those gray slacks.”

  I got the gold medal. He doesn’t just give those away.

  Chef judged me several times in competition. One time in a Portland competition, my time was up. I began putting my food up in the window, and the tasting judges were saying I was late! Right next door to the competition, there was a timer for some security system that had a ticker tape. Roland sees that I actually have about three seconds left, so he goes up and tears up this ticker tape and brings it up to the judges. They honored the tape! He wrote the start time on there, so it was handy. He saved my bacon on that one.

  I assisted him in one of the National Conventions. He was doing this seafood dish with mussels. I was getting ready on the set and checked to see if the mussels were there. They weren’t to be found. Chef was not a happy person. We went down to see the guy who had showed them to me earlier and the guy said, “I don’t know where they went!” Chef Henin was ready to kill him! I said, “Chef, don’t do that. We’ll find something.” We got a hold of somebody—I think it was Atlanta Fish—who smoothed it over. The fish market was not far from convention center. A guy went down and picked them up. He was there in thirty minutes, so we had about forty-five minutes left to prep. Henin was, uh … agitated … to say the least. He has a way of speaking French when he should be speaking English. He’ll roll his eyes! If he looks over his glasses at you, you’re in trouble!

  SUSAN: What did Chef Henin see in you?

  JOHN: Persistence, wanting to do the best I can. A few years down the road, in 1996, I went to work for him at the Art Institute in Seattle. I was the second instructor he hired, after Dan Thiessen. Our interview was pretty comical.

  “You wanna go to work for me?”

  “Yeah, I’d like to work for you, Chef. I could learn a lot and contribute quite a bit.”

  “Well, here it is.” He handed me a few sheets of empty paper.

  “Where is the syllabus, and where is the subject matter?”

  “Here’s the Title Number. You do it.”

  We were running this program for the first year. I said, “Chef we only have a month to prepare. Who’s gonna be teaching this?”

  “You wanna teach it?” I already had a full load, running the A la Carte restaurant. Long story short, I ended up working doubles with no weekends off, for seven weeks. Chef approved the courses, but relied on me to get it done.

  Chef always liked to talk down to you, and after a while, he quit doing that to me. Roland and some lady were at a convention. My wife and I sat down with them. Roland proceeded to talk down to my wife. He didn’t know that my wife is also opinionated and wouldn’t take any crap! They were toe-to-toe; it was really good. One thing they argued about was the gray slacks! She was emphatic about having them starched and pressed. They were gray khakis … he must not have liked that “relaxed pant”—I don’t know. My wife still comments on that, but ever since then, they’ve gotten along.

  SUSAN: Is anyone as big a hard-ass as Chef Henin?

  JOHN: Me, at times … like when I was at the Edgewater, we were loaded with banquets, had the dining room, the coffee shop and all that. I was talking with the sous-chef and told him, “If you want to go on to succeed, you’re going to have to do this, this, and this. What you’re doing now is just not working.” I had both the lead line and sous-chef’s attention. The general manager was there. I had his attention, too. I said, “You’re going to need to rise to the occasion; otherwise, you’re not making it.”

  After he quit crying, he said I was absolutely right. He was going to get back on track. A lot of it was from outside influences and family stuff. I said, “You got to put that aside.” That’s hard to do. You have to focus on what you’re doing at the time. Especially in this business, you can’t let outside interference make your judgments. To be successful, it’s not about going to work from nine to five. You’ve got to live, breathe, and eat your profession. If you don’t, you’re not going to be good at it.

  SUSAN: Can “Chef” and “Balance” co-exist?

  JOHN: Roland sends me a Christmas card every year. I send him one, and we stay in contact. We haven’t been fishing yet, but keep talking about it. I think Chef is a bit of a loner. Oh, he’s got many colleagues. I may be wrong, but I feel that because he’s always working, he doesn’t have a lot of close friends, other than a few CMC guys … no one you’d see on a weekly or monthly basis. It’s the same for me. I don’t have a lot of friends, per se, but I have a lot of colleagues in the culinary field. I never had time, and he’s the same way.

  I look back at raising a son and not having a lot of contact throughout his life, other than bits and pieces. When people are playing, you are working. It makes me feel differently now, wanting to rectify all those years. My wife and I have been married thirty-four years. When I started teaching, I’d get home at 3:00 in the afternoon, and she’d say, “What the hell you doing home?” There’s a lot of payback in family. They accept what you’re doing, but at the same time, there’s gonna be a lot of resentment. One of the positions I had was vice president of Food Quality. We had six restaurants, four were fine dining. I was working eighty to a hundred hours a week easy, for about six years. It finally broke me. I had to take a time out, get something different. I was successful, but wasn’t successful as a husband or father. I’ve given back a lot to the people in the business. It’s time I give back to my family.

  I stop teaching at Renton Technical College, after the fall semester, January 1 [2016]. I’ll still be involved in the apprenticeship, keep that running. Will want to bang some pans a couple days a week, possibly do some studying, and keep an eye on the program. We’re moving to the coast, Ocean Shores. That area needs a lot of work. Tourist season comes along and everybody’s freaking out, trying to hire people. They can’t find anybody who has blood flowing through their veins. It will be fun to go and do consulting, mentor some of those places that need work: Will work for wine and fishing worms.

  Brian Williams

  Chef/Owner, Big Wave Café Manzanita Oregon Senior Vice President, Le Cordon Bleu North America

  Chef Henin looked him in the eye and said, “Taste everything you prepare. The meal needs salt.” I couldn’t stop laughing … his message was still consistent, twenty-six years later.

  BRIAN: In 1988, while a student at Western Culinary Institute, I had the honor of meeting Chef Henin the hard way; I cooked a meal for him. Chef Henin was at the campus to work with Chef Franz Popperl on preparing for the Culinary Olympics in Frankfurt, Germany. I was in the capstone class, A la Carte. The school had a chef’s table right next to the hot line in the kitchen and the day Chef Henin visited, I was the class sous-chef. Chef Henin was seated with Chef Franz Popperl and Chef Michael Spina. Chef Popperl had a bit of a dark reputation for being critical, but our class chef instructor warned us—Chef Popperl couldn’t hold a candle to Chef Henin when it came to being detailed about food. Needless to say, I was a nervous wreck.

  As tickets flew in from a busy restaurant, I kept watching for the chef’s table ticket. Once I had the chef table ticket in my hand, I communicated the order to the stations, gathered the different items at the pass, plated them, sent the dishes out to the chef’s table … and then watched them look at the dishes for any signs of pleasure or other. Chef Popperl looked up at me, made eye contact, and waved me over, asking, “Are you proud of the dishes?” Of course my answer was “Yes,” even though inside I was dying. Then Chef Henin began to share hi
s thoughts. He pushed the food around with his fork and then, looking up at me, began to break down the plate from construction and technique, to his final advice. “Always taste everything throughout the course of service.” Chef Roland provided feedback on the vegetables, starch, and protein. Chef Roland was very serious on his feedback and went into great detail. “The dish is all right, but it lacks salt.” I thought that as a student Chef Henin would give me a pass, but I was wrong. The look of disappointment in his face is one I will always remember, and while the feedback stung, his advice has never been forgotten.

  To this day I always not only taste the food myself, but train my cooks to do the same. A year ago, I hired a cook from Delaware North and asked him if he had any “Chef Henin stories.” Of course he did. He had prepared the crew food at Safeco Field in Seattle and Chef Henin came by and tasted everything. Chef Henin looked him in the eye and said, “Taste everything you prepare. The meal needs salt.” I couldn’t stop laughing … his message was still consistent, twenty-six years later.

  SUSAN: Why was he drawn to mentor you, and vice versa?

  BRIAN: I believe Chef Henin took me under his wing due to my passion for the kitchen and culinary education. In all of our conversations, Chef Henin has a style that goes into great detail. As our relationship moves into the third decade, I believe it is my skill as a fisherman that keeps bringing him back to my restaurant. Chef Henin loves seafood, and as I am the chef of a seafood restaurant, we have a lot in common.

  Chef Henin is still very consistent in his observations, as he provides me detailed feedback on the appearance of my restaurant from the outside, the entryway, my service staff, the meals he orders, and the kitchen. My entire team lights up when he surprises us with a visit. They take in all of his feedback as if it were dessert.

  In a lot of ways, how Chef Henin is in the kitchen is how he is in life. I was salmon fishing with Roland out of his home port of Ilwaco, Washington. From the moment we met—early that morning—until we said good-bye, he was laser-focused on catching fish and committed to every small detail. Upon arriving at his boat slip, the first thing I noticed was that, even though his boat was several years old, it looked brand-new. As we loaded the boat, I quickly learned he had a process for everything … even loading and getting on the boat. Everything we had packed down carefully passed from the dock to the boat in a methodical way with nothing being passed until the last item was put away in its specific place. There was no rushing this process. Once in the boat and heading out into the river, Chef Roland gave instructions on where we were to sit, where we were going to fish, and the role everyone would play on the boat. I found this very similar to his mise en place before meal service.

  Fishing started out slowly, but Chef Roland never lost focus in directing us to make small changes in our technique: we changed bait; we changed the water depth; we changed our trolling speed. These changes worked, and we started to hook and catch fish. Chef Roland has a very specific way to handle fish from the moment they are gently laid on the deck. From his soft blow to the head with a club, to cutting the gills to “bleed” the fish, everything was done swiftly, as if it were a dance. Once these steps are completed, he tied the fish to a short rope and hung it over the side of the boat to allow water pressure to completely bleed out the fish. I had never seen this done before, and I am not sure I would do it again.

  In the Columbia River, there is a problem with sea lions eating your salmon as you fight them with rod and reel. We had that problem. Chef Roland directed us to put the reel in “free spool” and let the fish swim away while still hooked, explaining that the fish is faster than the sea lion. We did as directed and chased the free swimming salmon for a few minutes until clear of the sea lion. The fish was then fought and netted and then Chef Roland began his fish-handling steps. When he pulled the short rope from the side of the boat to hang the fish in the water to bleed out, we quickly learned that the sea lion had made away with the salmon we caught earlier, hanging over the side. I was disappointed until Chef Roland stated in a matter of fact way, “Sea lions need to eat, too … C’est la vie.”

  After a long day of fishing, we headed to the dock, and then Chef Roland’s process of unloading began … very similar to the boat loading process, except now we had to clean and scrub the boat. It reminded me of cleaning the kitchen after a long day. Being exhausted and tired was no excuse for anything less that perfection. Within another ninety minutes, we had the chef’s boat cleaned and were ready to take everything we had packed on the boat earlier back up to the car. I was excited to head home, eat, and go to bed; but remember, this is Chef Roland. Instructions were given to meet Chef at his fish camp a few miles from the marina.

  In Chef Roland’s backyard, I found him with a cutting table set up, a knife and equipment bag, running water, and an opened micro-brew. As someone who has fished all his life and cleaned fish, this was an eye-opener. It would have taken me fifteen minutes, tops, to gut and filet the four fish, but I was about to get a whole new perspective. Chef Roland gently reached into the cooler and removed the first fish and gently placed it on the table. He then started the process of scaling the fish and rinsing not once, not twice, but four times, talking about the process as if this were a lecture at the CIA in the famed Seafood Kitchen. By the time he was done cleaning and fileting, we were over twenty minutes into just one fish. Just when I thought I had seen everything, Chef Roland produced a role of cheesecloth and cut about a four-foot long section and began wrapping the fish before placing it into another clean iced cooler. When he was done with the fish, it looked like a swaddled baby.

  SUSAN: Compare your mentoring style to his.

  BRIAN: My mentoring style is a mirror of Chef Roland’s. As does Chef Roland, I have a list of non-negotiables. It starts with very clear communication of expectations. At a minimum, we expect work ethic, effort, positive body language, high energy, good attitude, passion for the craft, being coachable, doing extra, being prepared, and being on time. From those basics, it moves on to attention to detail and taking pride in your work. Leading a kitchen is not really different from that of a culinary school instructor. You are always teaching and coaching. Often this requires repetition over the same method or technique. It is more than just having the cook learn the technique; they need to understand why—the importance of doing it over and over, never taking shortcuts

  I am the luckiest one in this book, as my relationship with Chef Roland went from mentorship to friendship. Chef Roland is different from so many people who have come and gone in my life. I found him to be so loyal over the years, and that is, indeed, a very rare quality. My wife Carol often gets excited when she brings me the mail and shows me another handwritten letter from Chef Henin. In today’s modern age of technology, who takes the time to handwrite a letter, let alone do it a couple of times a year?! I enjoy it when one pops up in the mailbox—not social media, not email or instant messenger. Really, who does that!

  Our relationship has shifted from seeing each other at meetings and conferences over the years to spending time having a meal together. It doesn’t have to be fancy or fine dining. Some of our best meals are in small towns like Ilwaco, Washington and Astoria, Oregon, at little hole-in-the-wall restaurants. Chef Roland is not a food snob. Doesn’t matter what it is, but if you are going to do it, do it well.

  If you have never been fishing, it can be quite boring … but not with Chef Roland. I get to sit in a boat for hours, just the two of us, and often Chef Roland and I just talk. Believe it or not, it is rarely about food, but about family and life. I value the time I get to spend with Chef Roland, as it is both insightful as well as an opportunity to learn and see inside the man who has accomplished so much.

  The Judge: American Culinary Federation

  My nickname for Chef Henin (he has never known about this but he will after this book is out) was “Monster Master Chef Henin.” He would give a compliment when your quality of work had his stamp of approval. That was the grand pri
ze (compliments from a great, yet crazy, Certified Master Chef). Do not ask him a stupid question without expecting to get a monster answer from him. That was his way of caring for you and wanting you to do your due diligence before wasting his time. I always loved his answers. Most recently, I had emailed him to ask him about Spinach Subrics mentioned in the Escoffier book. I emailed him a picture of the version that was solely my interpretation of it. His response: “Do not make me hockey puck next time.” After all these years, he has not changed a bit but you cannot help but to admire and love the man.

  —Alex Darvishi

  People who don’t compete are average. Average, according to Chef Henin, is the best of the worst and the worst of the best.

  —Scott Steiner

  Jill Bosich

  Chef/Owner: Cowgirl Cookie Co. and Chef Instructor: Orange Coast College

  You’re getting beat up with a velvet hammer.

  I competed freshly out of culinary school, having been exposed to this cool thing called the “Culinary Competition” through the American Culinary Federation. I stood back on the sidelines, helping and assisting, then convinced myself to enter my own show. Chef Henin was one of the first judges I ever encountered. Here he was, this tall Frenchman. You hear about these intimidating European chefs. I’m not usually intimidated, but I was inspired, and I thought, Who is this guy? He was friends with so many chefs in my region, like Raimund Hofmeister, Larry Banares, and Jeffrey Mora. These guys were on their own culinary team who went to Germany and competed in the 1988 and 1992 Culinary Olympics.

  Chef Henin always got asked to judge. He was brutal but honest, and gave good direction. I was struck by that in a positive way, like wow, you’re getting beat up with a velvet hammer. I first started competing in 1991—a window of time when people like Henin were still somewhat competing themselves while coaching other guys. There was a lot of energy and interest; competitions were going on all over the place. You’d show up in Los Angeles or Arizona, or Nevada, and you’d see these guys, either judging or competing. In 1988, they were all close because of the Culinary Olympic team and the Western Regional team. In 1992, Chef Henin was an advisor for Team USA, yet still had a big influence with USA West Regional team. A lot us younger people doing small local competitions had access to these guys, this incredible group of chefs and Master Chefs who were active and made themselves available.