In 1979, SoHo was a neighborhood in transition, not yet the chic, tourist-driven quarter it is today, teeming with boutiques, galleries, clubs, and restaurants. Although it was the place for art galleries and many artists lived and worked in lofts on the upper floors of its turn-of-the-century commercial buildings, the area was still quite industrial. During the day a steady stream of trucks rumbled along the narrow cobblestone streets, making deliveries and pickups at textile dealers, tool-and-die factories, boiler shops, paper box companies, glass cutters, and knife sharpeners. There was only a handful of places to eat and a scattering of retail shops that catered mainly to local residents. At night the streets were virtually deserted.
My wife Karen and I were only in our early twenties, but the vision of the type of restaurant we wanted to create was firm and clear in our minds. We chose a small storefront on the isolated corner of Grand and Greene Streets, establishing Chanterelle amid the wonderful old cast-iron buildings that have long been SoHo’s architectural hallmark. Most recently the site of a bodega, the premises had originally housed a corset factory and showroom. Our choice of location raised a few eyebrows, but in the late 1970s aspiring restaurateurs and would-be gallery owners could take advantage of low rents in “fringe” neighborhoods (and even gain a certain cachet by doing so). Most importantly, Karen and I felt that if we were faithful to our beliefs about cuisine and service, our clientele would find us. Happily, this turned out to be true.
It took six arduous months for us to make the necessary renovations—painstakingly repairing the cast-iron facade with ball-peen hammers, restoring the ornate mid-nineteenth-century pressed-tin ceiling, fixing the inset antique mirrors, stripping and refinishing the decrepit mahogany wainscoting and columns, and building a kitchen from scratch. We painted the walls a pale, soothing, peachy yellow color reminiscent of chanterelle mushrooms, laid an expanse of discreet gray carpet, and, contrary to fashion, left the walls unadorned except for the original architectural decorations and inset mirrors. Three big brass chandeliers added the finishing touch.
One of our main goals was to create an atmosphere in which people could enjoy all the pleasures of the table—food, wine, and conversation—without distraction. We envisioned each table in the dining room as its own intimate world, all of its needs unintimidatingly anticipated and fulfilled by our bright staff. And no music—only the congenial hum of our guests’ conversations, punctuated by the clink of glasses and silverware. Since we felt that displaying art on the walls would draw diners’ eyes up and away from their meal, we put artworks by contemporary American artists (some well-established, others up-and-coming) on our menu covers. The first had a print by the great TriBeCa-based sculptor Marisol. Since then we have been honored to feature works by a wide range of distinguished artists, photographers, musicians, and writers, among them Roy Lichtenstein, Cy Twombley, Jennifer Bartlett, Ellsworth Kelly, Donald Evans, John Cage, Virgil Thomson, Keith Haring, Francesco Clemente, Louise Nevelson, and Allen Ginsberg. We change Chanterelle’s menu cover twice a year, and the appearance of a new featured artwork is always a special moment for us and for our guests. Each “retired” menu is framed and added to the gallery of covers exhibited in the small anteroom near Chanterelle’s reception area.
With high hopes, a waitstaff of only two, and no funds in reserve (a cardinal sin for a restaurant start-up), Karen and I opened Chanterelle on November 14, 1979, serving a modest tasting menu and an à la carte menu that featured lobster with Sauternes and curry, as well as the grilled seafood sausage that has become my signature dish. We didn’t anticipate being busy right away, so I cooked alone, without a sous chef. Our first customers were friends, family, artists, gallery owners, and our investors. But one evening only a week or so later, I suddenly found myself with a booked-solid dining room filled with restaurant reviewers, noted personalities, and other chefs. Like all new restaurants, we hadn’t yet worked out all the kinks, and everything took longer to leave the kitchen than it was supposed to. As I rushed like a madman to keep everyone fed and happy, I could feel the palpable anticipation (and restlessness) of all those hungry food professionals and other avid eaters. At one point, I opened the oven door to remove some eagerly awaited racks of lamb only to find them cold and raw—the oven wasn’t turned on! And that was just the beginning.
Of course, we survived that awful yet comical night. (Comical, that is, in retrospect; at the time it was a chef’s worst nightmare come true.) A short while later Chanterelle received a very favorable review in New York magazine’s “End of the Decade” issue. The restaurant took off and the realization of our dreams began. In 1989, after a successful ten-year run in the original SoHo location, we moved Chanterelle to a more spacious home in TriBeCa’s historic Mercantile Exchange building on Harrison Street.
In many respects, only our address has changed. The restaurant is still situated on a corner in a turn-of-the-century building, the staff remains intelligent and attentive, each month’s new menu is always handwritten in Karen’s elegant, sweeping script, and my cooking continues to evolve.
THE CHANTERELLE FAMILY From the beginning, Karen and I made a conscious decision to devote ourselves to Chanterelle, and we have never regretted our choice. The restaurant is our second home, and our children Sara and Jake are not only Waltucks but also a part of the greater Chanterelle family, along with everyone who works with us.
Restaurant employees typically work very long hours together as a close-knit team so it’s not all that surprising that staffs often develop into “families.” We’re pleased that this is especially true of Chanterelle. It’s inevitable really, since employees usually spend more time with each other at the restaurant than they do with their “real” families and loved ones. We have always tried to nurture this unique closeness and to create a comfortable and agreeable work atmosphere in which it can flourish.
BEHIND THE KITCHEN DOOR In many ways restaurants are like the theater—a lot goes on behind the scenes that’s never seen by the audience. This is a more than apt analogy—both restaurant owners and theater people routinely refer to the front and back of the house. To our clients, Chanterelle is a well-regarded restaurant with a deep commitment to pleasing them. But as refined as our restaurant is, when it comes to the back of the house, in a real sense Chanterelle is also very much a mom-and-pop operation (in fact, the staff often calls me Pops).
Over the years, both clients and friends have been intrigued by back-of-the-house life at Chanterelle, often asking about what actually goes on. People are especially curious about what chefs and other food professionals eat in “real life.” Do Karen and I, our cooks, the waitstaff, and our other indispensable staff eat the same meals we serve to our clients? Do we gather around the table every afternoon feasting on foie gras, lobster, and truffles? Hardly, but we do eat very well.
The time the Chanterelle staff spends together over a meal is pretty much an expanded version of what it’s like when any hardworking family tries to take an enjoyable and sociable break from their hectic schedule. We relax around the table and schmooze, but we also sample new dishes I’m developing and go over the evening’s special dishes or new menu. (Chanterelle’s menu changes completely every four weeks. The only exception is my grilled seafood sausage, which is always on the menu.) We are lucky to have this time together, because while it’s a restaurant world tradition for staff to eat together as a family, in reality this doesn’t happen often these days.
OUR FAMILY MEAL At Chanterelle, the employee table is set each afternoon at 4:30 by the waitstaff, who pull the dining room tables together to form one long banquet-style table that’s covered with white cloths and set with silver. Karen and I almost always eat with our staff, and family members often join us, too. We always have plenty of food, so both the planned and unplanned eaters are well fed. These days our family table is likely to accommodate about twenty-five people. It seems like an astonishing number when we look back and remember that our first staff meal more than twenty years ago was at a table set for six! It’s fun when our friends and family join us at the table. And there’s no denying the staff rather mischievously relishes the opportunity to scrutinize someone’s new boyfriend or meet somebody’s mother. (After just such a meal, one of our long-standing waitstaff rolled her eyes and murmured under her breath, “Well, that explains a lot!”)
We have weekly rituals, too. On Saturdays, our children come to the staff meal with Karen’s parents, Gaby and Paul, and I always try to cook a few extra-special dishes for their enjoyment. Friday was always the day my father, Murray, showed up, and I made it a point to prepare something I knew he especially liked.
Over the years, our staff meal has given us a chance to learn about each other’s lives. We share good and bad times, commiserate over breakups, celebrate newfound loves, and generally stay tuned-in to life’s ups and downs. Sometimes it’s a bit like a soap opera, but with very good food. Time together like this has also given us the sweet gift of seeing long-term affections develop. For example, my father took quite an interest in our staff, many of whom were staff-slash-something else (actors, dancers, writers, photographers, artists, you name it). He was a regular at their performances, exhibitions, or book signings, and he made it a point to visit the new restaurants of former Chanterelle employees when they moved on to their own restaurant kitchens. My father died in 1994, and even now it is bittersweet to see him still so deeply missed.
SUPPER IS SERVED Staff meals at Chanterelle are a mosaic of flavors as diverse as the people they nourish. Ours is always a very ample table. In fact, the motto on our staff sweatshirts is “Good food and plenty of it.” Restaurant work is very physical, and plenty of good food ensures we’ll have the stamina to do our best. There are always prodigious portions of side dishes such as rice, noodles, or couscous, and an enormous salad of mixed greens. Our main courses, as you’ll soon be able to taste for yourself, range from international in inspiration to resolutely all-American. Many are one-pot recipes that require a minimum of active supervision once they’ve started to cook—you can just let the pot simmer on the stove, filling your home with wonderful aromas. The result will be good things to eat such as Moroccan lamb shanks, beer-braised short ribs, chicken gumbo, and Hungarian-style stuffed cabbage, each a staff meal favorite. Satisfying, unfussy dishes like these have pleased generations of families, and they’ll bring pleasure to yours, too.
These days I’m no longer the only one preparing our staff meal. As Chanterelle has become more successful, our staff has also grown larger and my responsibilities have expanded beyond the daily routine of the restaurant, so now I trade off with the other cooks. When it’s my turn, we’re likely to eat a dish like chicken with black mushrooms and Chinese sausage because I enjoy shopping in Chinatown, which is only a few blocks from the restaurant. Each of the other cooks brings his or her unique touch and ethnicity to the staff menu, introducing new flavors and reacquainting us with old favorites, too.
Today many families struggle to find the time and energy to cook a nice meal. I know the feeling—sometimes the demanding schedule of a busy professional kitchen makes preparing the big staff meal at Chanterelle a challenge for me, too. But in even the fullest, most hectic lives there should always be room for the delights of a tasty home-cooked meal. No succumbing to takeout, no peculiar smorgasbord meals culled from a salad bar. There is no substitute for the real thing. You’ll find many of the recipes in this book well suited to busy families, big or small. Some recipes require only quick sautéing, some simply simmer on top of the stove, while others, whose flavors improve with age, are meant to be prepared in largish quantities so there’ll be enough for several meals.
I truly love to cook—anything, anytime, anywhere. As a professional, I enjoy preparing the more formal, sophisticated food that has brought such pleasure to Chanterelle’s clients for more than twenty years. But equally satisfying is the cooking that feeds my soul and makes me happy—the informal, intensely flavored meals I share with my family and friends. I hope my recipes will bring the same pleasure to your table.
—DAVID WALTUCK
