Life, on the Line by Grant Achatz (book club reads .txt) 📕

I placed it in a polished copper pot with the browned butter that I had basted it in and the bouquet of herbs. As Henry finished up his lobster I walked the saddle up to the table and presented the meat. “Roasted Saddle of Elysian Fields Farm Lamb with fava beans, black truffle, and spring garlic.”

It looked beautiful and smelled even better. For the first time Henry cracked and a smile swept over his face. “You roasted that on the bone?” he asked.

“Yes, of course. Better flavor that way.”

“Yeah, but how do you know when it’s done?”

“You just know . . .”

I walked back to the line to slice the lamb. I pulled a large bowl from the oven where it was warming briefly and added the garnishes and the sauce. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Henry craning his neck to see my cutting board as I began to take the loin off the bone. I stroked the knife down and curved it out while hoping the meat was perfectly cooked.

The medium-rare loin slowly rocked on the cutting board as I sliced it thinly, seasoned it with salt and pepper, fanned it out on the garnishes in the bowl, and sprinkled it with thyme leaves.

When I placed the bowl in front of Henry he looked at it and said simply, “Wow.” It was perfect.

He relished that dish, and when he was nearly finished he said, “I’m getting full. I normally don’t finish all of the tryout’s dishes. And we have Blackbird tonight! Oh, man.”

“I have one more small bite and we’re done.”

Trio had a pastry chef, so I was not required to show Henry any desserts, but I had prepared a single bite of dessert anyway. In reality, the bite was more an amuse-bouche than dessert, but because it featured chocolate I placed it at the end as a logical conclusion to the tasting. It was meant to be a showstopper, something completely different than the traditional roast lamb. If I could pull it off, it would definitely be something he had never seen before.

This last bite was a risk. I wanted to show Henry where I wanted to take the food, how I saw my style evolving at Trio.

During our dinner the night before, the mignardise were served on a long granite slab not much wider than a ruler. While the captain was placing it down, Henry playfully grabbed a chocolate truffle before it came to rest on the table. When I saw this it struck me that I liked the idea of offering a bite-size composition to the guest directly. It produced an interesting, fun interaction and was more dynamic than placing it on the table.

I found one of the granite slabs and wrapped a white napkin around it. This would be my makeshift service piece for the final bite.

While at elBulli I watched the team make very thin sheets from invert sugars. I thought that you could perhaps flavor the sugar by incorporating a flavored powder into the base. I aimed to create a foie gras lozenge wrapped in a crispy chocolate. The bottle cap-size bite was designed to crack open when Henry bit down on it, revealing the creamy foie gras inside.

As Henry finished the lamb and stood up to walk his plate over to the dish machine I piped the cured foie onto a half dollar-size, chocolate-flavored sugar film and set another directly on top of it. I waved the tray briefly under the salamander and watched the top film conform around the foie gras like shrink-wrap. I flipped the candy and repeated it. The chocolate became perfectly enveloped. I placed the delicate bite on the linen-wrapped stick and walked up to Henry, who was now back in the booth thinking things were over. I extended the granite in his direction and held it out. He looked puzzled, unsure if I was trying to set it down or if he should grab it.

“Be careful,” I said, giving him a hint on how to proceed, “it is very fragile. Bittersweet chocolate-wrapped foie gras. Eat it in one bite, because the inside might be a tad liquidy.”

He picked up the lozenge and examined it closely, trying to figure out how it was made.

“This is where I see my food moving in the future,” I said as he popped it into his mouth.

His reaction was immediate.

“Holy shit, man!” he exclaimed. “Wow, is that good. Holy shit, that is cool. How did you do that? That is from Mars, man. Incredible.”

I nailed it.

That night Henry took me to Blackbird as planned. It was great to finally see Chicago proper and eat the food that Paul had talked about when I ran into him in Spain. Plus, the pressure of the tryout was off and Henry and I were getting to know and trust each other. He raved about the tasting, but told me he had a few more interviews lined up.

The next morning I boarded a plane back to San Francisco, confident that I would be offered the job.

When I returned to the Laundry I asked chef Keller for a moment of his time. I wanted to reflect on the experience and to get his thoughts. He quietly listened as I explained what I served and how well the tryout had gone. But I also mentioned the worn-out kitchen with purple floors, the dated decor, the tuxedos, and the chipped plates.

“I told you, Grant, there just aren’t too many places out there like this one. And that’s okay. Maybe it’s better for you to start out in an environment like that—that’s exactly what we did here. By working hard you appreciate it more when you finally get there, when you make it all happen. How was the owner? You trust him?”

“I do,” I said. “He’s a really nice guy. But I’m not sure he wants the same thing I do, Chef.”

“What do you want?” Thomas asked.

“I want