This morning I received an e-mail from IACP asking me to contribute a tribute to Bert Greene. Bert died in 1988 but he lives on through the annual Bert Greene awards for journalism excellence. I thought you might add your own memory of this beautiful guy too? Here’s mine.

Bert Greene was an enormous mountain of a man.  When he hugged you, you almost lost your bearings in the vast expanse of his chest. His arms were as thick as a tree.

When I think of Bert, he is always laughing.  His laugh is so loud, so overflowing with unrestrained joy and happiness. There is such a roaring of delight that folks in the street turn round to see what’s going on. He just throws back his head and bursts forth like Pavarotti.  His laughter rollicks over the orchestra seats to way past the traffic lights.

Bert looked a lot like Tweedledum. Stephen was the opposite. He was thin and silent: a kind of Alice B. Toklas to Bert in the guise of Gertrude Stein. Stephen shadowed Bert and made all the important decisions. Bert was the front man, the accomplished writer, and the ringmaster in a world he viewed as a circus. He lived large in a big tent with all the seats filled with his admirers. We all loved Bert.

The first time I was invited for dinner at their home, he opened the door wearing a paisley floor length robe and slippers. I can see the entire space of the living room in a microsecond.

It is a miniscule; a teeny — teeny-tiny doll’s house with dark walls and crowded to the gills with miniature, fragile, furniture. I feel like Alice in Wonderland who gulps the bottle that says, “Drink Me.” My head is touching in the ceiling and I squish between the walls. I am a giant in the land of the Lilliputians.

Bert laughs.

“Here’s the kitchen,” booms Bert. It isn’t really a kitchen.  It’s a narrow two-sided closet without a door. There is a handkerchief-size cluttered counter with a refrigerator about the size of those that hold drinks in a hotel room and a surface with two burners. There’s a kettle boiling on one of them. It sends forth a billowing cloud of steam. Bert says the vapor helps his alleviate his allergies.

The other burner is for testing the recipes for his book, Greene on Greens.  When he needs ingredients, Stephen runs round the corner to grab them from Balducci’s.

The dining table faces the “kitchen.”  It is so small there is only enough surface for two plates and two wine glasses. The two chairs are the size of bicycle seats so our buttocks overflow them. There isn’t a space for Stephen so, like the Cheshire cat, he slowly recedes and either vanishes completely or goes out.

Bert unapologetically explains it is too hot to cook. He reaches under that table — and behold — like a rabbit out of a hat, he produces — a lemon meringue pie!

We eat the whole thing and drink all the wine.

Bert is still living there in that magical clearing in the forest in downtown Manhattan.

Tomorrow, I’ll post a few suggestions about writing your own memoir. This is quite enough reading for you for today. Have a good one.

When I ask my culinary and pastry arts students what they would like to do, the most popular answer is: travel — preferably to Italy. (I wonder if this is because they have grown up with families who love to eat.)

Fancy Food Show, NYC 6/27-6/29, 2010

I suggest instead that they explore NASFT, the National Association for the Specialty Food Trade. It is an association of independent, innovative businesses committed to bringing great new foods to market; a diverse community of passionate and creative entrepreneurs, who fuel the innovation and authenticity found in food today.

Since 1954, NASFT has sponsored trade shows like the Fancy Food Show, the premier marketplace for reaching the specialty food trade. These shows attract from 19,000 to 32,000 attendees, who are owners of specialty food stores, and those working in wine, gift and departments stores; supermarket purchasing personnel; restaurant people; mail-order food and cookware, and other related businesses.

The expected 24,000 attendees of the upcoming New York Fancy Food Show (June 27-29) will come to buy from 180,000 products including: confections, cheese, coffee, snacks, spices, ethnic, natural, organic and more from 2,500 exhibitors representing 81 countries.

Many forget that the FMI Show, All Things Organic, United Produce Expo and Conference and U.S. Food Export Showcase joined the Fancy Food Show to make it five shows in one.

Many of the exhibitors are entrepreneurs who created their own recipes and started their own companies–after going culinary school or on a hunch.

Within this vast sector are many opportunities to network, to job connect, to find work with importers and exporters, buyers and sellers.

NASFT also is an organization that tries to nurture and support small and emerging food businesses by providing educational forums, business builder 1 to 1 networking opportunities, even the Sofi awards, which as one judge pointed out, are: “A great way to see what’s next.”

I say to my students, “check the website to find job listings.” Every new product needs help getting to market, from the start in the kitchen to the finish line presentation. Better yet, I tell the students to simply go experience this incredible marketplace of sights and smells, and get inspired.

Next Monday I’ll write about opportunities in eco- and culinary tourism. In coming weeks, I’ll suggest finding employment as a chef in a U.S. embassy or consulate,  as a teacher in a culinary schools in another country or as a food travel writer.

There is always a FOOD JOB to explore.

Bocuse d'Or Award

This past weekend, a most important culinary competition was held at The Culinary Institute of America (CIA) in Hyde Park, NY. Twelve finalists–five of whom are CIA alumni–competed for the honor of representing the U.S. in the prestigious Bocuse d’Or World Cuisine Contest, that will be held January, 2011 in Lyon, France.

The competition takes place only every two years, and was established in 1987 by world-renowned French Chef Paul Bocuse. It is the preeminent international culinary competition in which teams of one chef and one commis from 24 countries compete for top honors and international acclaim. (It is the equivalent of winning the gold medal at the 2010 Olympics-winter or summer.)

These 12 finalists had a mere three hours to do the early preparation work on Friday prior to the final contest that was held Saturday. They had five-and-a-half hours to complete one Scottish wild salmon platter and one American lamb platter. The chefs were required to make a total of 12 servings for each platter, which also had to have three garnishes.

At the competition’s end, James Kent, 30, was chosen as winner. He is currently employed as the sous chef at Eleven Madison Park in New York City.

Jérôme Bocuse, the son of Paul, is a chef and a CIA graduate. He serves as a judge for the cooking contest along with other chef luminaries including Thomas Keller and Daniel Boulud.

Yet, I think I am safe in saying that none of the 800 spectators at the CIA knew about a (prior) dinner that was staged at a rented villa in the south of France.

The hosts were a couple of wealthy New Yorkers. The guests included the legendary Paul Bocuse and nine famous multi-starred French chefs. The hosts had dined in the various chefs’ restaurants for many years. They would leave generous tips at the conclusion of each meal. Thus they were remembered — vividly.

One year, the New Yorkers decided to turn the tables and invite the illustrious chefs to a “home-cooked” dinner at their rented villa. The main course was roast lamb.

Paul Bocuse was invited to carve the lamb. He walked slowly to the head of the table. He grasped the carving knife. He rested the fork on the surface of the lamb. A moment passed. Then another…

Sadly, he shook his head. “Madame,” he murmurred, “C’est terrible.”

“What?!,” wailed the hostess. “What’s terrible?”

“Ah, Madame…,” replied Bocuse mournfully. “You see, when the little lambs are in the field, the flies come. The lamb uses his right hind leg to brush away the flies. The right leg therefore gets more exercise than the left leg so it is more muscular. The left leg is more tender…”

“Madame,” he explained (with a twinkle in his eye), “you have chosen the wrong leg.”

The assembled chefs roared with convivial laughter.

The dinner was a huge success.

Paul Bocuse, (now 84?), lives on while all who know him tell stories of his genius, and his legendary sense of humor.