“Some say he’s a
closet pastry chef and that he seasons his food with the tears of Cordon Bleu
students… All we know is, he’s called the Stig.”
If you’re a fan like I am of Top Gear UK, you’ll be familiar
with a character called The Stig. He’s a
top level race car driver that appears in full racing gear on each show to put
cars through their paces, coach celebrities for the Star in a Reasonably Priced
Car segment, and whose identity is a closely guarded secret even on the Top
Gear set. He’s a bit like a superhero with
a twist of weirdness that only the genius possess.
Let me introduce you to the character in my life that I’ll
simply call The Stig.
While I’ve had moments in the kitchen this term where I’ve
been deeply in the shit and feeling very alone, the truth is, I haven’t been
alone. I’ve had a voice in the back of
my head pushing me to work harder, taste (and taste again!) and make sexy plates.
The Stig is a Chef and dear friend of mine with a dose of
the freaky-crazies that reveal not just talent, but genius. Mysteriously (ok,
not that mysteriously) he knows a fair bit about the Cordon Bleu curriculum and
has given me excellent advice about process, what NOT to do, and has told me
what to worry about and what I can let slide.
Over the years, he’s recommended some excellent books and resources that
I would have not found otherwise and pushed the limits of my imagination a few
times.
I never understood the link between Chef-food-insanity-brilliance
until my first visit to Belgium nearly 10 years ago. Belgium is of course famous for its
chocolate, but the tourist-trap shops selling Godiva and the like on the Grand
Place in Brussels are a giant rip-off. A
tip led me to a little shop selling chocolates by a guy named Pierre Marcolini. It was expensive as hell - the Euro
equivalent of several dollars per chocolate.
I got my little bag of about four bites and slouched onto the curb
outside. One bite of the chocolate
flavoured with violets pretty much shorted out my brain. It was literally the best thing I had ever
tasted, and perfectly captured both violet and chocolate in a way I had never
considered. When I was finally capable
of speaking, I turned to my partner at the time and said “I don’t know who
Pierre Marcolini is, but he’s crazy."
Anyone who has the passion and obsession to refine a simple thing to
that level is clearly out of their mind.
But for just a few dollars I got a glimpse into the mind of a mad genius.
Last night I shared some of my ideas for the market workshop
with The Stig. I don’t talk to him every day or even every week, but when I ask
for advice, he always delivers. He thinks
what I have in mind is ambitious, but sounds very good. He reminded me that
traditional works, and that it need not be a 3-Michelin star tasting menu. Essentially the advice was, don’t over-commit
to something I can’t deliver, and if I’m working with “morons and princesses”
that I’m going to have to take charge of it.
His last words to me were a request for pictures of my dishes this week,
and “I believe in you.”
I remember talking to him a few years ago, after Basic
Cuisine. I asked him if I should bother going back to LCB to finish the
program. I recall his exact words – “You
have it in you.” Those are the words in
the back of my mind every class, and that’s the standard I’m holding myself to.
Do I have the crazy in me?
I guess I’m going to find out.
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