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

“Then why leave?” We laughed some more. “You think he’ll offer you the job?”

“Chef, it was perfect. The food was perfect. And the place was cleaner when I left than it was when I arrived. The question is whether or not he offers the job to a guy who has never really run his own kitchen. He asked me that, actually. I told him that I had more responsibility being a sous chef here than most chefs have anywhere, but I doubt he believed me. Who would believe all of this?”

A week went by and I heard nothing from Henry. I became anxious. I continued to search for job openings online, and like before, there was nothing. Then I got an e-mail from Henry. He complimented my drive and passion and said the food was fantastic, but that it was simply too risky to transform the restaurant as I envisioned. Changing the food, service, and decor all at once was difficult conceptually and daunting financially. “I wish you all the best.”

My ambition had cost me the job.

I told myself that I didn’t want the position unless I could do it my way, so it wasn’t really a lost opportunity. But I hadn’t been offered the job, and I couldn’t be certain why that was, despite what Henry said.

I told chef Keller about Henry’s e-mail. “It doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere, Chef.”

“Well, you have to respect his honesty and the fact that he realized he didn’t want to take that risk with his business.”

“I guess.”

I spent the next two weeks looking for another opportunity, but came quickly to the conclusion that I would be staying in Napa for a long time. Time was running out. If I was going to move I had to do it soon so Angela could have some stability during the late stages of her pregnancy. It had to happen quickly, or it would likely not happen at all. As much as I loved the Laundry, I was feeling that everything was conspiring to keep me there against my will.

Then it came.

Four and a half weeks after my interview with Henry he e-mailed to see if I was still available. I didn’t even finish reading the e-mail before I picked up the phone and called him. “Hi, Henry. It’s Grant. I got your e-mail.”

“Here’s the deal. I have gone through all of the applicants that I had scheduled and your food blew them all away. It wasn’t close. The food has been haunting me. I can’t get it out of my head. You are a talent and you’re driven by a vision. So much so that I’m willing to entertain the changes you want for Trio. That is, if you’re still looking for a job.”

I was elated.

Henry and I exchanged dozens of e-mails working out the details. He decided to go all in, do or die. He would market this not as a gradual transition but as a reinvention of Trio. He commissioned his brother-in-law, Pavel Kraus, to design and install Mylar screens in the dining spaces to update the decor. We changed the logo, purchased new china and wineglasses, updated the website, ordered new uniforms for the service staff, and hammered out a labor budget so that I could hire a new team in the kitchen. Operationally, everything would change in a manner that would enable the best presentation of the cuisine.

Trio would become a new restaurant.

Chef Keller asked for a minimum of two months to work out the changes necessary in the French Laundry kitchen. Henry wanted me there sooner, but I told him that I would give chef Keller whatever he asked for. I would leave The French Laundry in June 2001 and start at Trio on July 1. Everything was set. I was about to run my own kitchen.

Chef Keller looked at me with a smile as he headed back toward the kitchen. “Chicago, huh? Trotter’s going to crush you.”

PART 2

A NEW TRAIN OF THOUGHT

CHAPTER 12

As my time at the Laundry wound down, I needed to make a plan for the kitchen at Trio.

Shawn McClain had already departed from his position to open Spring, and Henry had put in place a temporary kitchen team to fill the void until he hired the next chef. As soon as I committed to the job we began to talk about how I’d want to hire my own crew. Trio was never a terribly busy restaurant, and with the loss of customers after Shawn’s departure and the expenses from the upcoming renovation weighing on him, Henry suggested I use a very conservative estimate for the number of cooks needed to operate the kitchen. He was equally adamant about offering a very low starting salary to all of the chefs, so much so that I was embarrassed to mention it to potential hires. I knew that I was going to drive the chefs hard, working them fourteen hours a day. To accept a job making barely over $20,000 with an unknown chef running his first kitchen at the age of twenty-six would require a huge leap of faith on their part. We settled on a crew of five cooks and I began building my team.

The French Laundry had a giant brigade of twenty-plus cooks. Having such a small team would be a significant departure, and I knew I needed someone who spoke the same language, knew the standards, and knew how to execute. I needed to bring someone with me from the Laundry.

While Henry placed ads in local papers and sorted through applicants for me, I approached chef Keller and asked him if I could bring David Carrier with me to Trio.

David was a commis at the Laundry, and I had gained a lot of respect for his drive and determination. He was a huge guy, the size of a middle linebacker, with a Queens accent and a fast pace. He didn’t so