My meeting with David Bouley

Chef David Bouley

Chef David Bouley passed away on February 12th at the age of 70. I first knew of him as a chef at one of my favorite restaurants, Montrachet, and later at his restaurant, Bouley.

I had met him only a few times, but early in my career as a food writer David Bouley helped me understand the difference between the worlds, and the minds, of chefs and home cooks.

“Customers challenge me each day, elevating all of us to the better” -David Bouley

Three Meals at Bouley

I’d eaten at the famed restaurant, Bouley, in New York’s Tribeca neighborhood, a couple of times. The entryway, filled with apples, was fragrant with their aroma. The restaurant glittering and elegant, the service perfect. And, as expected, the food was exquisite.

My third visit there was different. My husband and I were guests of a friend, Lisa, who was good friends with the chef. I was a New York Times recipe tester and contributor, and Chef Bouley was interested in having me as a collaborator on a cookbook he had in mind. As festive as the room and table settings were, this was not going to be an ordinary meal.

Lisa warned me to pay close attention to the food, especially which seasonings and subtle flavors I detected. David was going to quiz me when we talked, to see how smart I was and what I knew. As we ate, I took note, and hoped I would remember the details. We’d left our kids with a babysitter. Normally, there were no problems. This was before we had cell phones. For some reason the sitter kept calling the restaurant to have me come to the phone. Could the boys have some pie? Could they say goodnight to me? Every time I got up I lay my napkin forward on the table, every time I returned it was neatly refolded. I was nervous and distracted, each dish was marvelous. At the end of dinner the chef came out to say hello and we agreed we would meet in the near future.

A Chef’s Hours

When we spoke on the phone, Chef asked if I could meet him at 1:30 am when he’d be wrapping up work. His restaurant was in lower Manhattan and I lived on the Upper West Side. I had a momentary vision of myself on a subway at 1 am – or in a cab – and even the idea of chumming with one of the world’s greatest chefs in the heart of the night made me think NO. Just NO. If we began that way, would our work always be after hours? I suggested meeting in the afternoon and we settled on a hotel lobby in mid-town.

No Quiz, But Recipes

David Bouley was prompt and very charming. We talked about food in general, his food, the restaurant, and finally, the book he had in mind. To my great relief, he didn’t quiz me. It had been at least a week since my last meal there. Instead of asking me questions, he gave me a sheaf of recipes and asked me to test a few and send him some feedback. We parted and agreed to talk again soon.

A Peek Into the Mind of a Chef

There weren’t a lot of recipes but, collectively, they were a revelation. Somewhere in my attic I must have them stashed away, I doubt I would have discarded them. What impressed me most was his use of purees. Small amounts of fruits and vegetables, individually or combined, were cooked and pureed, then frozen. They weren’t necessarily leftovers but could be. Frozen in flat sheets, needed amounts could be broken off and quickly defrosted. What was brilliant was where they were used, in sauces, gravies, in unexpected places where the flavor would enhance without being identified.

I remember only one recipe, a simple puree of mushrooms that, he wrote, he would use in a salad dressing. I was early in my career as a food writer and David Bouley’s recipes gave me insight into the difference between the creativity of a chef – and a great chef, at that – and that of a home cook.

I wasn’t hired to work with Chef Bouley; I was told he had decided to collaborate with a certain writer on popular culture and food. I was disappointed but understood, and was maybe a little relieved too. I had two young children and a husband at home, and could not envision working hours that had me seeing the sun rise. I’d had a short adventure and a walloping impression about creativity in cooking that I would never lose.

The Recipe: Mushroom Purée à la David Bouley

This is from a long-ago memory, and is scarcely a recipe. I recall that the instructions were to finely chop a quantity of mushrooms. Aging mushrooms (as long as still fresh, and not slimy or decayed) were fine, perhaps even preferable. The chopped mushrooms should be put into a pot with just enough water to cover, then simmered until very soft. That mixture should be allowed to cool completely, then  pureed until smooth. The puree should be transferred to a sealable freezer bag and frozen while flat. To use the puree, break off a piece as needed, allow to defrost, and use in stews, sauces, gravies, and salad dressing.