Goin' to Lucques

Darting through the hustling Kitchen, my sight sometimes clears from the battalion of vague white coats that line the counters and stove tops. I cease to be distracted by a flashing knife, instead seeing the scarred hand that holds it. That hand neighbors another pair of hands which neighbor another cook and then another. My mind wanders from my own mission and instead I think of each chef leading a separate life, aspiring to a different dream. What path brought them here? Which ones wish to stay? What kind of kitchen do the others hope to lead one day?

And then someone does leave. They open their own place or partner with another to live out their dream. They do well or they do okay and their restaurant is different than you expected, or maybe it’s exactly as you expected. They take what they’ve gleaned from other kitchens and correct it with their own view—still, it’s somehow reminiscent of that kitchen you once shared with them.

A Saturday or two ago I stopped in at the café at Chez Panisse for lunch. Simple, seasonal, organic fare for some-odd 30 years…think of how many cooks have passed through that kitchen, how many chefs can name Alice Waters as their mentor.

I cracked open a borrowed copy of Sunday Suppers at Lucques (by Suzanne Goin, past chef at Chez Panisse) for the first time last week. I soaked it up—the content, stories, philosophy, the fresh, simple, seasonal recipes. Then, on a whim, we roadtripped to LA on Saturday. Sitting down to our dinner at Lucques, I was more than excited. The menu read very well—“spiced lamb tartare with fried chickpeas, oil-cured olives and cumin flatbread” definitely a must. But for the entrée? A toss-up. Sea bass, purple artichokes, potatoes and anchovy-black olive butter made its way to my side of the table, but only after negotiating for some traded quince paste and suckling pig swirled around in garlic-paprika oil. In the end it was disappointing. Too large of portions, too much seasoning or not enough, but mostly—too much going on in one dish (does a single salad need the entire avocado?) Someday I'll return--you can't judge a book by its cover, right? And certainly, not a book by its restaurant...

http://www.lucques.com/

(graphics great, navigation not so great)