Food for thought in creative life
I’ve been devouring the most delectable series on Netflix this year, partly thanks to COVID, which took me down for weeks. The Chef’s Table is a cracker. It’s a must watch for any aspiring entrepreneur, small-business owner or change maker. The production is of impeccable quality. The scenery and cinematography, majestic. What’s more is that the stories of struggle and self-discovery are real and relatable. And the food . . . oh, the food.
Each episode leaves you feeling both satisfied, and wanting more. The series documents juicy details of just what it takes to be among the world’s finest chefs — artisans, innovators, environmentalists and leaders. These guys go out on a limb. They break the rules, creating culinary history — genius on a plate. Many cut their teeth with masters, apprenticing for years under the tutelage of renowned and lesser-known, but equally impressive, kitchens.
They all engage in a journey of deep learning and curiosity, whereby attention to detail, repetition, persistence, and a flavour of experimentation are paramount. With each personal account, providing a backstory of challenge and hope, the series shows you the crux of all endeavours — simply, there are no quick wins. But there’s often a calling, a deeper reason behind the business. The modern restaurateur also sees a bigger picture.
Fine dining is only made possible in partnership with exquisite-quality ingredients. To this end, these chefs know and appreciate their place as part of a larger ecosystem.
“The greatest lesson came with the realisation that good food cannot be reduced to single ingredients. It requires a web of relationships to support it,” says Dan Barber, whose Blue Hill restaurants in Manhattan and at Stone Barns Centre for Food and Agriculture in New York provide a genuine farm-to-fork dining experience. Further, many of the greats establish who they are, and what they stand for, beyond the menu.
For South Korean Buddhist monk Jeong Kwan — now regaled across the industry for her craft — cooking is profoundly spiritual. When you eat her food, it’s the mindset of sharing that’s being consumed. Jeong Kwan’s food speaks to a kind of transcendent truth. Every dish is crafted through embodying the living essence of present-minded awareness.
Fundamentally, each chef teaches us to be true to yourself, and to trust the inner niggle and knowing. Michelin stars and accolades take toil. There’s often an element of sacrifice along the way. But it’s by showing up, day after day, with a flame of passion, and especially in the face of doubt and impending failure, that you succeed, often.
The first years are the hardest — empty dining rooms, skeleton staff, stress and near financial ruin. But they stick at it. Then, by some kind of magic, an unexpected upswing occurs. The acclaimed food critic or celebrity walks through the doors. Word gets around. After years of preparation, relentless perfectionism and measured risk-taking, momentum grows.
Ana Ros from Hisa Franko is a self-taught cook. The story of the Soca Valley in Slovenia where she lives, its people and the produce is delicately narrated across each plate. Ana’s quest for excellence, anchored to the richness of the eco-cultural landscape in which she lives, has put Slovenia on the gastronomic map.
The leading edge is full of uncertainty, but it’s also the realm of possibility. And the series shows us that grit and determination is what distinguishes good from truly great. For me, the overarching message is this: leaders are made, not born.
This article was first published in The West Australian in Renée Gardiner’s weekly column in Agenda, 8 October 2022.