Top Chef Andrea Curto-Randazzo!

For years, Andrea Curto-Randazzo has been one of my favorite local chefs. We've long been fixtures at the kitchen bar seats at Talula, the restaurant that she and husband Frank Randazzo opened in 2003, and I've often told anyone who will listen that I think they put out the best food to be found on South Beach. Chef Curto-Randazzo also helped kick off our Cobaya underground dinners with our first event, one that many of us still think was the best dinner we've done.

And, yes, I also happen to be a Top Chef fan as well.

So I am thrilled - just thrilled - to see that she is going to be a contestant on next season's Top Chef, and that the rest of the country will get a chance to see what she's capable of doing.

I will be watching and rooting for Andrea like a gibbering maniac. GO ANDREA!

Hot Kitchens, Hot Tempers

I was amused to read this story in the New York Times Diner's Journal, of a customer who was thrown out of the eponymous Marc Forgione restaurant by the chef for going into the kitchen and complaining about the chef's verbal abuse of his staff. The short version: dining party is seated; chef loudly and repeatedly berates waiter in kitchen; discomfited diner goes into kitchen to complain; chef takes umbrage at diner's uninvited entrance into kitchen; chef asks customer to leave restaurant. It's not so much that the story was in itself so amusing, but rather that something very similar happened to me several years ago.

We were having a breakfast at a restaurant that I'd prefer not to name - it's somewhat embarassing. OK, it was Jerry's Deli, and it was a long time ago, and it hadn't quite sunk to the depths of mediocrity that it now happily occupies. Frod Jr. and Little Miss F were with us, and were much younger - maybe 6 and 3, respectively. The restaurant was not terribly busy, but the food service was nonetheless unusually slow. Meanwhile, as we sat, we couldn't help but notice that a stream of pretty much uninterrupted yelling and cursing was coming out of the kitchen. Jerry's is a big, cavernous place, located in what was originally a cafeteria and which had housed a number of nightclubs before its current incarnation. And though we were seated a good twenty yards away from the entrance to the kitchen, there was absolutely no mistaking the noises that were coming out of there.

Now, I happen to be a fan of colorful and creative cursing. But this was not particularly creative, it was not getting the food out any faster, and it was providing an education to our children that we did not particularly desire at this particular point in their upbringing (needless to say, they had never heard me or Mrs. F say any such things - the fact that a 2-year old Frod Jr. used to shout "Dammit!" from the back seat of the car when we got stuck at a stoplight was purely spontaneous behavior). And so I asked our waitress if she could perhaps ask the chef to stifle the profanities a bit.^[*]

The result was not unexpected. Either the chef lit into our poor server the same as he had been doing to his kitchen staff, or she was too terrified to even say anything, but the stream of high-decibel profanity continued, unabated. And we still didn't have any food. So after several more minutes, I went back into the kitchen, spotted the chef who was doing all the screaming, and said:

"Listen, everyone in the entire restaurant can hear you. And it really doesn't make a difference to me, but I've got young kids here, and my 6-year old son just asked me when his fucking french toast is going to be ready. Do you think you could tone it down?"

It got quiet after that. We weren't asked to leave. And Frod Jr. got his fucking french toast.

My take on the kerfuffle described in Diner's Journal? The diner was right to complain but did so for the wrong reason. Generally speaking, it's none of your business how a chef deals with his/her staff. However, if it's intruding on your dining experience, then it becomes your business. It's not your place as a diner to tell a chef how to run his team, but it's absolutely your right to complain if the commotion in the kitchen is distracting you from your meal. On the other hand, if Chef Forgione is serious about the "sanctity of the kitchen," then he better find a way to make sure that whatever happens in the kitchen doesn't make its way into the dining room.

Updated to add: Here's a little further detail from Marc Forgione, reported in GrubStreet.

^[*]Asking someone else on the staff to intervene in the kitchen is a step the Diner's Journal author skipped, and one that might have avoided the breach of the kitchen ramparts which so offended Chef Forgione's sensibilities.

What's Your Beef?

Several months ago, Miami New Times ran a feature story by Jackie Sayet, "Bogus Beef," on local restaurants' mislabeling of beef sourced from American or Australian producers as "Kobe beef." The article confirmed that many South Florida restaurants were blithely describing items on their menu as "Kobe beef" that in fact were not.

Genuine Kobe beef, which comes from a particular breed of cattle (Wagyu) raised in a particular prefecture of Japan (Hyogo), is among the most prized (and expensive) in the world. In recent years, producers in other parts of the world have sought to duplicate the product, and there are now farmers in the U.S. and Australia who raise Wagyu and cross-breeds. The product is often quite good, though not of the same quality as the genuine Japanese article, and carries significantly lower prices. Though there seems to be a good bit of confusion, this is really not a complicated issue: if the beef doesn't come from Kobe, Japan, you shouldn't call it Kobe beef. As the article details, that simple rule is supported by Florida's Department of Business and Professional Regulation, which said:

The use of the term Kobe beef on a menu or special board is a misrepresentation. ... Use of the terms Wagyu beef, American-style Kobe beef, Australian-style Kobe beef, and (country of origin) Kobe beef are acceptable, providing the operator can provide supporting invoices and product to match.^[1]

It was a well-written and well-researched piece, and I'm happy to hear that it is in line for a Sunshine State Award from the South Florida Society of Professional Journalists.

When the matter was brought to several restaurateurs' attention during the writing of the article, many of them claimed to be unaware and pledged to make immediate changes on their menu to correct the mislabeling. There's just one problem: it appears that virtually none of them have actually done so.

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