by Roy Choi
BEFORE I KNEW IT, I said my arigatos to Chef Michiba and his team, and to Chef Kawai and his team, my mind popping with new ideas and flavors. I was ready to take it back to Tahoe, but the Embassy Suites had bigger ideas for me: they needed a regional chef for their brand, and they thought I was the guy to represent their name. I moved up to Sacramento, on the advice of Sandy Murphy, the VP of Hilton, and took over duties to oversee culinary decisions for ten hotels, hundreds of staff members, with an average of $4 million in sales at each property, which stretched from Seattle to San Jose. This was the big time.
My goal was to give our guests a five-star experience for a three-star price, just like how my parents had hustled and flowed with their jewelry in the Pershing Square days. The Embassy Suites’ book hadn’t been updated since the Reagan years, so I got rid of some of its old, drab cooking techniques and updated everything to 2005. For the Embassy Suites’ Sacramento restaurant, we took in-season mushrooms and layered them in quesadillas stuffed with the best cheese and slow-roasted tomato jam, with a side of cauliflower ceviche. Added a West Coast clam chowder loaded with Manila clams, cockles, pancetta cured in-house, shallots, and chives. A foie gras “hamburger” with roasted Fuji apples and a port sauce. Burrata with fresh berries and cracked pepper and olive oil with fennel crostini, a light appetizer that popped like a party in your mouth.
And up and down the coast, we developed an omelet bar with high-quality ingredients—better bacon, better sausage, better potatoes, proper biscuits—so guests could choose their own omelet adventures. We even did a stint on The Ellen DeGeneres Show for her special “Ellen in the Park” episode, making custom omelets in eighty-degree heat for her audience. I started to influence the brand on a national scale.
“His parents, Mr. and Mrs. Choi, said, ’We’ll name our boy Roy!’” Ellen said, riffing on my name as she introduced me on the show. “Do you enjoy koi, Roy? And when you were a boy, were you coy?”
If she only knew.
THE BEVERLY HILTON GAVE ME an interview, but it was only a courtesy one. I knew what was up. An Embassy Suites Hotel chef—a mid-level brand at best—applying for the chef de cuisine position at a super-high-end flagship hotel on the corner of Santa Monica Boulevard and Wilshire Boulevard in Beverly Hills, 90210? Where presidents stayed and celebrities partied?
Hell, no.
But the area vice president for Hilton recommended that I apply for the job, and after six years at the Embassy Suites, I was looking for a change. I threw my toque into the ring, and the managers there had no choice but to do as their boss said. They put on a whole dog and pony show for me even as they were eyeing someone else, like my interview was just a formality before crossing me off their list.
The interview started in February 2007, lasted three months, and cycled through ten different managers. Even the hotel’s telephone switchbox operator and the lady in charge of the hair salon asked me questions. They put me through the ringer, hoping to dampen my interest. But I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel. I still had my five-course tasting menu, prepped from scratch, to present and show them what I could do.
On the day of the tasting, all the managers who had given me the runaround were in the room. Waiting for me to fail so they could scrunch up their noses, wrinkle their faces, and politely escort me out of the hotel. I made compressed watermelon with uni and jalapeño gastrique, seared tuna carpaccio with bone marrow and herbs, foie gras with berries and lemon curd and cracklings. Salmon with horseradish. Korean skirt steak with a sesame risotto. That five-course menu was the shot heard ‘round the world. Word spread fast. The whole hotel started coming up; everyone wanted to taste it. All the bullshit went away. I got the job on the spot.
I thought it would be perfect for me. The volume was huge. A $35–$45 million food and beverage program, with 200 under my management as the chef de cuisine of the hotel’s Circa 55 restaurant and the loungey Trader Vic’s. In total, there were five kitchens, plus room service for 570 rooms and the bars in the lobby and pools.
Then there was the caliber of the clientele. When the royal family of Dubai and the king of Morocco visited Los Angeles, they rented whole floors complete with lavish buffets. They didn’t use alarm clocks, waking up whenever their bodies woke up, so we always had to be ready to mobilize and feed. Even if they woke up at 3:00 P.M. and wanted breakfast while we were prepping for dinner. The celebrities—Clive Davis, Alicia Keys, and so on—would just call up for room service and eat in the privacy of their rooms. The newly elected Governator came in and smoked his cigars; Joan Rivers had a lot of lunches, mostly salads; Eddie Vedder and Bruce Springsteen hung out in the hallways. Once, Tom Hanks, playing catch-me-if-you-can with the paps, cut through the kitchen, giving us all a Cali high-five as he made his exit, grabbing a little piece of this or that along the way, saying, “Mmm, this is good! That’s good!” And the events were huge: The Billboard Music Awards. The Grammys. The Golden Globes, where celebrities had a three-course plated affair with endive salad, yuzu halibut, chocolate mousse, petits fours.
But as amazing as those meals were, I was having problems. The executive chef of the hotel, Suki Sugiura, and I really liked each other personally, but our positions clashed. The hotel wanted me to transform Circa 55 into a restaurant with simple, clean, delicious, natural, elegant dishes, like Craft or Providence in town, or like Higgins, Wildwood, and Cafe Juanita in the Northwest, and I was itching to do exactly that.
Only problem was, they never told Chef Sugiura about any of these plans. And so he insisted that I cook the menu he had developed: Cobb salad, yuzu halibut, club sandwich, Kobe beef steak with pine mushrooms, salmon with bok choy, smoked ribs, sushi. And I knew I couldn’t go up against a chef in a political battle; more than that, at the end of the day, I’m just a cook, loyal to the craft. I had to follow the chain of command, just like I did on the streets. And so that meant I had to follow Chef’s lead, not corporate’s, even if it meant my own career wouldn’t flourish and even if it meant that I’d be constantly caught between the will of the kitchen and the will of the man upstairs. Cobb salad and club sandwiches it was.
The union rules were tough, too. From Borrego Springs to Tokyo to Sacramento, I was used to environments where it was all hands on deck, all the time. The all-union staff at the hotel, though, meant there were strict rules about who could do what and for how long. With those restrictions in place, it was much, much harder to run the kitchen, especially on busy nights and during events.
And so, for all its glory and its history, for all the celebrities and royalties, the Beverly Hilton was fast becoming a huge ocean liner, and I couldn’t do anything to turn it as fast as I wanted it to turn.
It was time to jump ship.
BIRRIA
* * *
When Salvador put the knife to that goat’s neck that day in Borrego, the goat’s eyes opened big and wide. Those eyes will forever be tattooed in my soul, and I will forever be linked to birria. It’s amazing that an animal that is so important to certain cultures is so underappreciated in the United States, but it doesn’t have to be like that: one spoonful of this deep, soulful stew, and you’ll start to appreciate it, too.
If you can’t find goat meat in your area, try this recipe with lamb.
SERVES 4 TO 6
4 dried guajillo chiles
2 dried ancho chiles
3 garlic cloves, peeled
¼ cup chopped onion
1 jalapeño pepper, seeded
1 scallion
¼ teaspoon cumin seeds
¼ teaspoon dried Mexican oregano
3 whole cloves
1½ tablespoons cider vinegar
1 teaspoon dark brown sugar
½ cup water
2½ pounds goat (leg meat and meaty ribs), cut into 3- to 4-inch cubes
Salt and pepper
½ cup drained canned fire-roasted tomatoes, plus 1 fresh Roma tomato, charred
GARNISH
Limes
Fresh cilant
ro
Minced white onion
Preheat the oven to 350°F.
Toast the guajillo and ancho chiles in a dry pan over medium heat, until they’re smoking and a bit charred on each side. Transfer to a plate.
In the same pan, toast the garlic, then the onion, then the jalapeño, and finally, the scallion, removing each vegetable from the pan before adding the next. You want to toast the veggies until they’re smoking and a bit charred.
Grind the cumin seeds, oregano, and cloves together in a spice grinder.
Combine the charred vegetables, ground spices, vinegar, brown sugar, and water in a blender and puree. Rub half of the mixture all over the goat, reserving the other half in the blender. Lightly season the goat with salt and pepper.
Place the goat on a wire rack on a sheet pan and roast it in the oven for about 45 minutes. Remove and transfer the meat to a large pot.
Add the tomatoes to the leftover marinade in the blender and puree. Add the mixture to the pot with the roasted goat and then add enough water to bring the liquid just above the goat. Give it all a good stir, bring it to a boil, then reduce the heat to let the goat simmer, covered, until it’s nice and tender, about 1½ hours. It should be really, really soft.
Ladle out bowls of the birria and garnish each bowl with a squeeze of lime, some chopped cilantro, and minced onion. Maybe a little more salt and some dried oregano.
¡LISTO!
CRISPY DUCK BREAST WITH POLENTA AND SWEET AND SOUR MANGO SAUCE
* * *
This is a dish that was inspired by Art Culinaire and the PBS Great Chefs Series on TV. It’s a dish that many young chefs do, trying to be all fancy when they don’t even know how to cook yet, like doing a guitar solo but not even being that good at playing the guitar. This is exactly what Paul and I were doing at La Casa del Zorro. Even with all these trappings, though, this combination of mango and duck is pretty damn good. Make sure your skin gets crispy.
SERVES 4
POLENTA
2 cups half-and-half
1 cup water
½ cup polenta
2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
SAUCE
½ cup fresh orange juice
½ cup fresh grapefruit juice
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1½ teaspoons sliced peeled fresh ginger
1 tablespoon sliced garlic
1 tablespoon minced scallions
1½ teaspoons minced jalapeño pepper
½ cup ketchup
1 tablespoon soy sauce
½ cup natural rice vinegar (not seasoned)
2 tablespoons sugar
Flesh of ½ mango
DUCK
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
4 duck breast halves, the skin scored with hash marks and patted dry
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
SLURRY
1 tablespoon cornstarch
1 tablespoon water
PREPARE THE POLENTA
In a pot, combine the half-and-half and the water and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to a simmer and whisk in the polenta, stirring it continuously with the whisk. Watch out for splashing bubbles—they may burn you.
When the polenta thickens to the consistency of mashed potatoes, after 4 to 6 minutes, add the Parmesan cheese and season with salt and pepper to taste. Set aside and keep warm.
MAKE THE SAUCE
Mix the orange juice and grapefruit juice together and set aside.
Heat a small pan and add the 2 tablespoons of oil. Add the ginger, garlic, scallions, and jalapeño and cook just until aromatic. Add the juice mixture and the rest of the sauce ingredients, bring to a boil, reduce the heat, and simmer, uncovered, for 1 hour.
Puree and strain the sauce. It will keep for days in the refrigerator. Or pack it into small bags and sell it on the street.
TO BRING IT ALL TOGETHER
Put a large sauté pan over medium heat and pour in the olive oil. Season the duck breasts with salt and pepper and cook them slowly, skin side down, until the skin becomes deep golden brown and crispy. Don’t rush—the slower, the better.
Once the skin is nice and crispy, turn the duck over and cook. Transfer to a wire rack on a sheet pan to rest.
Mix the cornstarch and the water together in a small bowl. Reheat as much sauce as you want and thicken it a bit with the cornstarch slurry.
Drizzle the sweet and sour sauce around—but not on top of—the duck. To plate, scoop some polenta onto a dish. Slice the duck breasts, which now should be medium-rare, and place them on top of the polenta.
You’ll have a crispy skinned duck with polenta and a nostalgic sweet and sour sauce.
BUT IT’S NOT CHINATOWN.
IT’S YOUR TOWN. ENJOY.
RED ONION MARMALADE
* * *
The de Anza Country Club had a monthly journal for its members, and this was the first recipe I wrote for it. I paired the marmalade with a hamburger recipe and wished my members low scores and happy rounds. This marmalade can be used on my burger or on any protein dish as a side condiment.
MAKES ABOUT 1 CUP
2 pounds red onions, sliced
¼ cup olive oil
1 cup red wine
1 cup red wine vinegar
1 cup packed brown sugar
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
½ teaspoon cayenne
Zest (grated) and juice of 1 lemon
Zest (grated) and juice of 1 lime
Combine the onions and olive oil in a large, deep pan and sauté over medium heat, stirring periodically, until the onions are soft and slightly caramelized—about 10 minutes.
Deglaze the pan with the red wine and vinegar. Bring the onions and their liquid to a boil, cooking continuously over high heat until the liquid is reduced by half.
Lower the heat and add the brown sugar, pepper, cayenne, and citrus zest and juice, whisking everything to dissolve the sugar. Cook for 10 to 15 minutes over low heat, stirring periodically. Allow the onions to cool and you’re done. It’ll keep, covered, for 1 week.
Use on meats or on breakfast toast. YOU CHOOSE.
SIMPLE CLUB SANDWICH
* * *
Nothing says golf more than FORE!! Followed by a club sandwich. To me, there is a science to a great club sandwich. Sure, it’s simple, but in that simplicity there are certain rules that make it great. Certain forms of architecture that make the sandwich not fall apart or slip around. I hope this recipe can be a road map to that perfect club sandwich.
MAKES 1 SIMPLE SANDWICH
3 pieces sourdough toast
Some mayonnaise
3 slices cooked, crispy bacon
2 leaves dried green leaf lettuce
2 slices tomato
2 slices cooked turkey breast
2 slices Swiss cheese
Slather 1 side of each piece of toast with mayonnaise. Place the bacon, lettuce, and tomato on 1 piece of toast, then top with another piece of toast. Place the turkey and Swiss on the toast and top with the last piece of toast.
Cut into fourths and place one of those colored frilly toothpicks in each triangle.
Eat with Tabasco and ketchup.
YUM.
NOW GO SHOOT
A GOOD ROUND.
EASY DE ANZA COBB SALAD
* * *
I really loved Lucy back when I’d watch TV as a tween, and watching her watch William Holden order that Cobb salad got me researching Old Hollywood and the Brown Derby. The Cobb was invented at the Derby, and we had a version of it at de Anza. I don’t see Cobb salads much on the menu anymore in these new modern restaurants. I think they’re worth it: it’s just a matter of time before people realize how good they are when done right with that perfect mix of ingredients.
SERVES 4
VINAIGRETTE
1 cup extra virgin olive oil
½ cup cider vinegar
¼ cup
capers, packed in either salt or brine
2 tablespoons minced onion
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
2 tablespoons minced scallions
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
SALAD
Big bowl of mixed greens, like baby romaine, baby butter lettuce, and baby red leaf lettuce
½ cup crumbled blue cheese
2 cups diced cooked turkey
½ cup diced cucumber, peeled and seeded
½ cup diced tomato
½ cup diced hard-boiled egg
½ cup diced cooked bacon
½ cup minced scallions
½ cup diced cheddar cheese
½ cup deep-fried shallots (store-bought fried onion strings are fine)
Combine the ingredients for the vinaigrette in a blender and puree until smooth. Taste and adjust the seasoning if necessary.
Toss the greens in the vinaigrette and place a heaping amount on each plate or in a serving bowl. Gently layer the rest of the ingredients on the greens however you wish.
NOW, WHY WOULD YOU GO
OUT AND PAY $14 FOR THIS
WHEN YOU CAN MAKE IT
YOURSELF?
SIMPLE CHICKEN PICCATA
* * *
This was one of the first signature dishes that I perfected as a young chef. And even though it’s almost too commonly found in restaurants, and it can be really bad if it’s not done right, there is something timeless about capers, lemon, and parsley, something that just brightens up the palate when the acidity matches with the juiciness of the chicken and a touch of cream. This is also a dish to make on a date night, because it’s easy and quick and hits a flavor quotient that could possibly get you laid. Just don’t break the sauce. . . .