Executive Chef Alfred Portale, Gotham Bar & Grill

There are those who invent clocks and others who tell the time. There are architects who design buildings and folks who paint them. There are artisans who make violins and artists who composers of concertos.

We tend to think of artistic creativity as springing from the minds of dancers and painters and musicians, but plumbers, electricians and vacuum cleaner engineers also invent novel solutions to problems. They are creative geniuses too.

We all know chefs who acquire or are endowed with exceptional ability. Some are intellectual giants. Some are blessed with intuitive talent.

If we tried to make a list of influential chefs, it would reach from Lucullus who drew his last breath in 56 B.C. and trace a glorious gastronomic path through the prism of Apicius who took his first breath in 25 B.C. We’d mention Taillevent 1310 – 1395, and Rabelais who tirelessly described sixty ways to cook an egg.

In his treatise Gargantua, Rabelais wrote, “Drink always and you shall never die,” though unfortunately he did — in 1553.

We’d add to our list, Catherine de’ Medici, who arrived from Italy as a tiny betrothed 14 year-old and became the Queen of France. She changed the culinary landscape by introducing the French court to truffles, Parmesan cheese, artichokes, quenelles, roast duckling with orange sauce and pasta — lots and lots of pasta.

It has been observed there wouldn’t have been a Renaissance without pasta, because hungry men growl, and with rumbling tummies, foment revolutions whereas the well-fed sing happy songs and bequeath everlasting beauty. With a bellyful of spaghetti, a person can contemplate creation itself.

It was Epicurus, the ancient Greek philosopher who lived from 341 B.C. to 270 B.C. who wisely declared, “The beginning and root of all good is to make the stomach happy; wisdom and learning are founded on that.”

By Gum! If only those old Greeks still ruled the world we would all be living in Paradise instead of dwelling in perpetual poverty.

Do you remember the dictum of King Henri IV, patron of that venerable inn, La Tour d’Argent? He pronounced his monarchy philosophy thusly, “If God allows me to live, and I will see that there is not a single laborer in my kingdom who does not have a chicken in his pot every Sunday.” And that pronouncement was made in the mid-1500s before the Colonel fried his very first KFC.

As we march through the menus of time we stumble across Colbert, Jean-Baptiste Colbert, the Minister of Finance who served the Sun King, Louis, 14th. He approved France’s purchase of Quebec and Louisiana even though according to writer Daniel Rogov, author of Rogues, Writers & Whores, Dining with the Rich & Famous, “he could see no way to convince the savages that inhabit those lands to buy our fashionable frocks.” However, Colbert did see the colonies as a source for enriching the French larder, (though the future presence of McDonald’s in the Musée du Louvre was surely not what he had in mind).

Parmentier was the person who persuaded Parisians to set aside their fear of potatoes. This feat of conversion from fear of crisp spuds prompted Chef Curnonsky’s description of French fries as being among “the most spiritual creations of Parisian genius.” The original French fries are thought to have been first consumed beneath the bridges of Paris during the French Revolution and were known as Pommes Pont-Neuf.

Thus we stride through the first stirrings of culinary creationism and evolve from Sauce Béarnaise to Green Goddess Dressing, from Poulet Demi Deuil with a fine Bordeaux to Chicken Nuggets with Diet Coke. We have traveled far and with increasing width from Sachertorte to Twinkies.

Each stage in the devolution of our culinary journey takes us to new heights: from the 17th century’s influence of La Varenne, we stride through gastronomy to honor: Brillat-Savarin, Marcel Boulestin, Antonin Carême, Choron, Dugléré, Nicolas Appert, (who invented canning), to Auguste Escoffier; Alain Chapel; Alain Ducasse and Alain Senderens to  Ferdinand Point; Guy Savoy and Gordon Ramsay; Chef Boyardee and Rachael Ray’s discovery of 365 ways to use leftover hot dogs.

We can all agree that Alfred Portale, a former jewelry designer and top of his class graduate of the CIA, is among the most inventive and highly acclaimed chefs of our time. As too are Ferran Adria, Grant Achatz, Heston Blumenthal, Thomas Keller and a host of others who have ascended into the exalted pantheon of kitchen deities.

What distinguishes these creamers of crops is their ability to think creatively: so not salt and predictable pepper but salt on caramel. Not those four seasons but twelve seasons in a year.

It is said: “No one is born with taste. Taste must be acquired not only by tasting but by learning and reading in dozens of disciplines and by experimenting and perfecting and making choices; choices about the right ingredients are of no greater or less importance than choosing the right words to describe your purpose.”

It is one thing to name an item on the menu fish eggs and astonishingly more profitable to whisper the word caviar. To say liver of a fat duck is less enticing than Fat Duck’s Foie (gras).  Or pâté rather than cold  meat loaf. Pommes frites go better with steak than Freedom Fries, a dish of revenge best served cold.

Robert F. Kennedy wrote, “Some dream of things that are and ask, Why? Others dream of things that never were and ask, Why not?” Nonconformists and risk takers possess the ability to paint toothache in fondant or describe the seductive smell of sizzling onions.

Creativity is a skill that can be developed. It is based on the fundamentals of technical knowledge and soaring imagination. Leonardo da Vinci had to understand the elements of anatomy in order to paint the Mona Lisa and The Last Supper; Picasso had to understand the fundamentals of art before creating his own cubistic artistry.

Every great chef starts to climb the ladder of stardom only after fully understanding the pure ecstasy of a well-constructed consommé. It is this grasp of complex simplicity that separates the sous from the celeb.

It takes a certain kind of intellect to think of serving a beefsteak tomato with a steak knife. To say “I love!” in a different way.

To invent a new dish is to pay homage to all who cooked before us and all the consumers who declared the chef to be an artist.

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Thomas Zacharias, Culinary Institute of America Graduate

Here is another example of an  extraordinarily accomplished student, Thomas Zacharias, who showed great courage in leaving his home country of India to pursue his dream. Remember his name. He is destined for greatness. I’ve invited him to tell his story:

It was on an unusually cold June morning in 1998, in my beautiful South Indian state of Kerala when I was first bitten by the culinary bug. The monsoon rains had just kicked in and the air smelled heavily of the earth. I was standing in my grandmother’s kitchen watching her cook lunch for the rest of our family. After years of relishing her food every afternoon, I was finally taking an interest in what actually happened in her kitchen.

That day, she placed a cheena chatti (a precursor to the wok) on the stove and lit it with a match. She heated up a little oil and threw in some mustard seeds, curry leaves, and dried red chilies. I jerked back in fright as the mustard seeds spluttered in the hot oil, releasing its complex spicy aroma.

She smiled as she pointed to the stove and said, “Don’t let the flame scare you. Cooking is about mastering the heat.” Little did I realize that nine years later I would be at the finest culinary school in the world learning to master that very same heat.

After completing high school, I decided to pursue a career dedicated to gratifying people through food and wine. I enrolled at the prestigious Welcomgroup Graduate School of Hotel Administration in India, where I graduated top of my class with a Bachelor’s Degree in Hotel Management.

I had job offers from some of the best hotels in India but felt that I was still unseasoned. To further enhance my culinary knowledge and experience, I left my family, friends, and the security of my home of 21 years to study at my dream school, The Culinary Institute of America (CIA).

When I first drove into the stunning CIA campus, I could sense the rush I was longing to experience for months—like the feeling you get when you make your first perfect consommé. It was pure exhilaration and it was definitely worth the wait.

Roth Hall, the former Jesuit monastery building, stood there in all its celebrated glory; the Vatican of the culinary world as we know it. The beautiful Anton Plaza lay before it overlooking the spectacular Hudson River and the striking fall foliage of the valley. Glimpses of the exquisite award-winning Italian ristorante Caterina de’ Medici, perfectly placed in a Mediterranean setting surrounded with a bountiful herb garden pulled me in. Of course, the Conrad N. Hilton library stood tall, proudly being one of the greatest sources of food knowledge in the world. Five minutes on this campus and I knew I was in the right place.

Before I knew it, I was immersed in classes. It surely went fast. The school’s Progressive Learning Year (PLY) academic system implied that a student has to be constantly up to date with his assigned daily work. No excuses are entertained — not even the classic “my dog ate my homework,” which could make more sense here than anywhere else.

I nevertheless decided to make the best of my time here and so, it wasn’t unusual for me to spend hours on end in the library reading up on world cuisines and the science behind basic cooking techniques, not to mention legendary chefs such as Escoffier and Careme and Bocuse. They always had to throw me out when the library closed for the night.

I completed my 18 week mandatory externship under accomplished Chef Shea Gallante ’96 at the Michelin-starred restaurant Cru in Manhattan. Though the hours were long and the paycheck small, I was only grateful to be gaining such a valuable experience.

Back in school again and submerged in the heat of classes, I decided that I needed to do beyond just academics and applied for the position of editor-in-chief of the school newspaper, La Papillote. To my surprise, I was hired. It was a position I had dreamt of for more than a year. I had great plans for the paper, which I duly accomplished. My extensive experience as a tutor in the Writing Center helped immensely.

Then one day, while in restaurant row, (the last set of classes one partakes in before graduation), and chopping fresh herbs for service in the St. Andrew’s restaurant kitchen, I was told that there was someone waiting outside to see me. The man—who was of medium height, wore thick-rimmed glasses, and could be in his late 50s—introduced himself as Henry Woods, Associate Dean of Faculty Development at the CIA. My mind switched itself into defense mode and I wondered what trouble I’d gotten myself into.

Dean Woods, however, quickly put me at ease. He informed me that I was selected as one of two students to represent the CIA, the world’s premier culinary college, as a student honor delegate at the National Restaurant Association Education Foundation Salute to Excellence to be held in Chicago on May 16, 2009 — six days before I was to graduate. I was beyond thrilled.

The Salute is an annual event which witnesses hundreds of exemplary culinary students, distinguished faculty, and esteemed industry professionals from all over the country meeting together in one location to interact and talk about the present and the future of the foodservice industry in America. This was one of the greatest opportunities for any student at the CIA; all my hard work and dedication towards this school had finally paid off.

I am now in my last class at the CIA—Advanced Table Service at CIA’s flagship restaurant, Escoffier. I have retired from my positions as editor-in-chief as well as tutor and am preparing for life post-CIA. I have been chosen to be the graduation speaker for my graduation, and possibly may be chosen as valedictorian. As I gather together the words for my speech, I cannot help but reminisce about how far I’ve come from the days I spent in my grandmother’s kitchen. I cannot help but think of all the chefs in this school who have taught me several valuable lessons, both within the realms of the kitchen and beyond. I realize I will soon be part of a larger family of professionals who proudly carry the CIA name with them wherever they go.

I could not be more proud.

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