With every fall comes my favorite holiday: Thanksgiving Day.  It’s been a very special day since my earliest memories. I remember how much I loved my great grandmother’s chicken and dumplings when I was a child.  It’s funny that over the past few decades many “new” family classic dishes have surfaced and become a staple on this very special day.  My dad’s cornbread dressing (which used to be his mother’s) my mimi’s famous fruit salad, now made by my sister.  Green bean salad, candied sweet potatoes, baked spiral ham… the list goes on and on.  It’s an action packed day of cooking and eating, drinking good fare and enjoying relatives.  Great company that we haven’t enjoyed since the last time we gathered

We’re happy that everyone on our team at both restaurants gets to spend this day at home, relaxing and decompressing, eating, drinking and reflecting on what they have to be thankful for. We would like to thank everyone for all of the support! This has been an amazing year and we are grateful for everything. We wish everyone a happy Thanksgiving!  I’m already looking forward to leftover turkey sandwiches.  Mmmmm.

If there’s one thing that my new career has taught me it’s that there’s a huge difference betweeen being the chef and being the chef / owner.  It’s truly night and day.  When you ask young chefs and cooks, nine out of 10 will tell you that their dream is to open their own restaurant and  I was no different. For the first year of operation I did the books, managed the floor, prepared all the food and attempted a social life.  When I look back, I’m amazed that I even made it this far.  What pulled me through the abyss?  How did I survive, endlessly burning of the candle at both ends?  It’s easy,  I fell in love with the woman of my dreams.

For the first three years of my career I’d accepted the fact that I was a loner, due to the fact I spend 90% of my time in the kitchen. I figured I would be a great chef and one day in the heat of the moment, die in my kitchen… that would be my bitter end.  I wasn’t totally put off by the idea because it was the crazy roller coaster ride that I’d chosen. I learned to live with and accept it. Once I was awarded best new chef in New Orleans and the accolades I’d dreamed of started to pour in, I became crazier and crazier because all my hard work was being recognized. Proclamations of world domination were not uncommon.

Back then the little nightmare of a kitchen that we worked in every night had no ventilation, limited resources and a chain gang of employees with a turnover rate that was startling.  Stella had a reputation on the street of being the hardest kitchen in the city to work in and it kind of made me happy, in a sick sort of way. I was going to the top no matter what I had to do to get there. Bottom line, my mentality was insane—which to a certain degree I still am—but something had to give and it didn’t appear it was going to be me.

I remember one evening in particular that started like many before it; I was walking from the kitchen to the bar and all of a sudden there she was, the woman of my dreams.  I’ll be honest, marriage was the last thing on my mind as I moved in for the kill that night.  I told my bartender to keep her martini full as I sent out course after course, presenting my best hand of seduction. The first evening rocked and rolled, followed with a second only ending with her leaving to go home.  I decided she was a muse, bringing me a message that my heart was still alive and somewhere there may be someone made for me.

We managed to find each other again and began a challenging long distance courtship that resulted in relocation. This is where the roller coaster ride got even faster. I was juggling my success, an unstable kitchen staff, and as if that weren’t enough… I had fallen in love.  The timing seemed all off but in reality it could not have been more perfect because I’d truly never felt like this before.  She taught me how to love other people and for the first time, my bees were getting honey.  Now, this didn’t happen overnight because I’m as stubborn as a horse, but at least the transformation had begun and the seed had been planted.

As she became more involved with Stella!, it enabled me to travel for stages in Tokyo.  I worked with Masahiko Kobe (whom I befriended while staging in Enoteca Pinchiori, in Florence, Italy) in his restaurant Massa.  I immediately fell in love with Japan which was reflected by the “Japanese Invasion” of my menu. Masa introduced me to Iron Chef French, Hiroyuki Sakai, and the next year I found myself training in his kitchen.  This led to an introduction to Iron Chef Chinese, Chen Kenichi, and by that time my official staging patterns had starting to take form.

Chen Kenichi

I would have never been able to do any of this without Tanya’s loving set of eyes “holding down the fort” as I moved around.  I staged at Morimoto in NYC and Jean Georges in the Trump Tower. It was clear that now things were really moving.  Being names “Rising Star Chef” in 2003, along with another life changing event made me hungry to keep this rush going.

We flew Masahiko Kobe to New Orleans and held Stella’s first Iron Chef Dinner, a sold out event that fueled my passion and obsession even more.  Two weeks later we closed the restaurant and we were off to the James Beard House.  At the time, this experience was one of the most stressful events to ever take place but that didn’t matter because we had just cooked dinner in the world renowned house; crossing another mark off the master list.  I returned to Tokyo to try and schedule the dinner of a lifetime by inviting Iron Chef Sakai to come to New Orleans and do another Iron Chef Dinner in our restaurant.  He accepted my proposal and it set my soul on fire.

Masahiko Kobe

I returned to New Orleans and decided, for this grand occasion, it was time to renovate our entire restaurant; I wanted to build a dream kitchen for Chef Sakai and me. Keep in mind that this whole project had to be finished in less than a year.  We planned rigorously around the clock, creating excitement in the air and the project was rapidly unfolding.  We were approaching the magic day when we would finally close our doors and begin the project that everyone was waiting for.

Hiroyuki Sakai

On August 21, 2005, Stella’s doors were closed and our aggressive two month renovation began. It was one of the most invigorating weeks of my life as the crew came to work and started the demolition.  Walls came down, jack hammers were pounding, it was clear that we were on a fast-paced mission.  Five days later, on a Friday, we were already waiting for a concrete truck to pour our new slab.  The contractor told me we were waiting for a truck coming from the West Bank and it may be better to reschedule the pour for Monday since there was a storm in the Gulf of Mexico.  I insisted that we stay and at 7:00 PM that evening the slab was poured.  I remember going home that evening feeling more powerful than ever, thinking that nothing could stop me.  I reclined into my chair on a rare Friday evening off and turned on the television to relax… there she was, Katrina.  I thought to myself this can’t be true, becoming very frustrated at what I was looking at.  That’s all I needed, some dumb hurricane to delay the pace we had already set.

I tried to deny it was there, continuing with my plans and met with staff in a tentative new restaurant location the next day.  We were opening another restaurant concept called Stanley. Putting the hurricane terror out of my mine we all started to instinctively clean the abandoned kitchen.  One at a time they all started leaving, evacuating with significant others or friends… suddenly I found myself alone.  I was in the highest level of denial I had ever been.  Tanya was begging to leave but I insisted we stay, I told her that we would be alright and it was nothing to be scared of.  In my pride I wouldn’t leave and insisted that not only Tanya stay, but also my mother and godmother.  How selfish could I be?  I simply wanted it to go away and vanish.  Sunday morning August 28, 2005, I walked into the abandoned streets and felt the air being sucked out of New Orleans.  For the first time in my life, I felt the primal animal instinct that it was time to run because terror was approaching.  I couldn’t believe that this was happening.  It seemed my bubble had burst.  We packed our overnight bags and joined the long line of cars leaving the city, not having a clue of the magnitude of what was about to happen.

This post doesn’t follow the timeline that I established. This will occasionally happen when other, powerful, happenings occur that I feel are important to talk about.

With the challenges and curve balls that we must face, It’s already a difficult task to get through every day.  I question the intensity of each day’s race to prepare for each night’s show in one quest to smile when it’s all done.  It seems we’re all on a similar mission, driven by passion for what we do, with success as the only option. There are nights that are battles, other nights are like a symphonies. Really they’re one in the same and it really doesn’t matter which it is, as long as in the end we hold our heads up high.  We are used to all the stress, it’s the fuel that drives us.  When most are home, we still work hard, late into the night… counting, cleaning, and preparing for the next day, when we’ll to do it all over again.

Can you imagine working 70+ high velocity hours a week, trying to make your crazily driven chef happy… as well as yourself?  It takes a special kind of person to stand behind the kitchen door and make it happen on that level every day.  Their only moments of relaxation comes in the form of a couple beers after work, followed by collapsing in exhaustion into bed for some much needed sleep.  This cycle of daily challenges is what we know best and generally enjoy.

John Sullivan is one of my extremely hard working sous chefs at Stella!  He spends the majority of his conscious life in our kitchen.  Two nights ago, on one of those ultra-rare nights that we get out early, John went to meet a friend after work, someone he hadn’t seen in five years.  They were going to meet near John’s house, grab a couple beers and catch up on the time that had passed them by.  Then someone appeared out of nowhere and before they could blink an eye, were both laying face down on the sidewalk with a gun to their heads.  He screamed, “give me all you got or I’ll kill you on the spot” as he took their wallets, keys and cell phones from their pockets.  Then the suspect ran away, continuing to yell out all his threats, as he jumped into waiting car.

The next day John returned to work with the look of horrific anger and I asked him what the problem was.  He told the story of the evening before, sending anger through my spine, knowing somehow this repeating story had to stop.  It was the third time in less than six months that I had heard a similar story; the only difference was the person that was telling it.  The continued violation of my soldiers, not knowing what I can do to stop it is a feeling I’ve grown to hate.  We’ve been fortunate thus far as our losses are purely things that can be replaced. The fact that this is on our minds every single time we leave at night is a hard feeling to describe to anyone who hasn’t felt it. I think back and realize that it’s been too long since any of us were able to just walk home, not looking over our shoulder every five steps.

Well, when is enough, enough?  How hard will I push?  How far will I go?  What is my grand purpose in life?  These are questions I don’t generally ask myself but at this point they’re on my mind.  The elBulli dinner was a landmark in my life that left me thinking once again: what’s next and how will I top this experience?  Will anything ever be good enough?  I already know the answer to my question is “hopefully not.”  If I ever reached that plateau I’m sure it would be the end.  You know, “the end,” you take a bite of the big carrot, the fat lady sings and SHABAM–it’s all over. The story of Scott Boswell, the chef, will continue.

I began the story in the present tense because blogging about a dinner that just changed my life needed to be told at once.  The experience in Spain, then returning to launch our new website and blog had to be one of the most amazing and exciting events of my life!  The difficult part of the scenario is the void and questions it left behind; these are the things which seem to fuel my engine and drive my soul.

I wasn’t always a chef; this is my third career. I fought my destiny at an early age, telling my parents that I didn’t want to combine my profession with the only true hobby or interest that I had.  My decision put me on a long bumpy road through varied fields; banking, pet store ownership and a few other short lived occupations.

I vividly remember writing my entrance essay to The Culinary Institute of America in hopes of being accepted; I was 31 years old and it seemed like my last chance. For a year I lived with my mother, saving money and counting the days until New York. I managed to save just enough to pay for my first semester.  I got accepted and that’s how it all began.

After almost two years between Provence and Italy, I was approaching 36 and needed to return to the U.S. to begin the second part of my journey. Even though the first part of my journey was essentially the tutorial stage I ultimately realize that even today I’m still following the path of lifetime learning.  In a very short year I went from sous chef to executive chef where I found myself on this crazy mission trying to make up for lost time.  After making a big loop and exploring new horizons I found myself in New Orleans, planning and preparing to open my first restaurant, Stella.

In 1993 I set my first serious goal: to open my first restaurant by the time I turned 40.  As aggressive a goal as it was, I knew it could be done. I knew all I had to do was put my head down, work hard and make it happen. My mother found my location in the French Quarter, conveniently located across the street from her condo.  I pitched my dream restaurant to the hotel we are currently in and moved back to New Orleans to begin the build out of Stella!  My target date was May 12, 2001, my 40^th birthday.  Everyone told me that this was impossible—there would be delays, curve balls and unforeseen problems that would make this date impossible. I put my mind to it and pushed hard as I could. We opened April 5, 2001, thirty-seven days before my 40^th birthday.

Thinking back only 14 short years, I try to understand when the obsessive behavior began.  I know at some point something clicked and the person that I was disappeared for the rest of my new life.  This radical transformation had become the foundation of my evolution each year.  Even today trying to recreate such challenges that the sum will result the same are planned and executed each year.  The year in Provence was a kitchen boot camp that essentially broke me down to nothing and rebuilt me into a modern day kitchen warrior.  Moving on to Florence, Italy I worked viscously in a three star Michelin restaurant which made me powerful beyond all of my imagination.  I remember returning to the U.S. in 1997 for brief employment in New Orleans.  With little experience, my training in Europe had certainly changed me forever because everyone seemed to be working in a slow motion.  At one point I was asked if I was trying to make everyone look bad.  My response was, “absolutely not, I’m trying to make everyone look good!”  My efforts seemed to go unnoticed so my journey in search of the challenging, changing force that would continue to push me at the pace I needed to be moving, continued.

The sous chef position in New York had me scared half to death because I had never been a sous chef.  Could I really perform this task?  Would I be a good one?  Now referencing back, the questions seem similar only in an elementary format; for whatever reason I’ve always questioned my ability. I think the lack of self confidence played a strong part in my failures in earlier careers.  This one was different; this was something I was good at and I had been cooking successfully since my earliest childhood memories.  The only thing in my life that had never changed was the fact that I loved to cook.  Back then I dreamed of opening a restaurant of my own and even then I questioned my ability to do that. I have to say that after a while this self doubting quality gets old.  Nevertheless, I accelerated through my young training which ultimately led me back to New Orleans.  This was only the beginning, a statement I still use each and every year!

The sommelier arrived and informed us that we would be moving into the world of sweetness, he asked if we’d put any thought toward dessert beverages.  We were still nursing our great bottle of Latour and told him we would stick with that.  I was so relieved that it was now switching to sweet. Tanya is all about dessert and there would be no more double portions for me.

Another interesting piece of metal, bent smoothly into waves filled with small holes speared with a small platform of something that resembled three crystallized leaves on top.  The dish was simply called “Leaves.” Each leaf was unique in texture and flavor, they were a mystery but it didn’t matter, they were simply wonderful.  Tanya found her stride and was again fully participating in the meal. More Japanese influence was in the next dish, “Sweet Potato Moshi”. They were presented on a thin piece of decorative cellophane paper.  It required me to pick up the moshi with the paper and drop the moshi in my mouth. The mellow taste of dessert style sweet potatoes melted on my tongue and invited the newly arrived spoons of “Persimmon Sorbet.”  This seemed to be timed perfectly, as one was meant to wash down the other and at the same time create an interesting liaison from soft, warm, puree to cold, soft, sorbet.  The two worked well together and the execution was flawless.

Leaves

Sweet Potato Moshi

Persimmon Sorbet

The next course was one of the most memorable courses for me, “Pond.” A frozen glass bowl arrived first and the server dusted the top with brown sugar and then powdered green tea.  We were instructed to tap the ice; it cracked and broke like the ice on a frozen pond.  We mixed up the ice with the sugar and tea. The flavor, texture, and temperature were stunningly invigorating.  The next to arrive was called “Puff Pastry of Pineapple.” Although I didn’t quite understand where the puff pastry part came into play, it was still very “pineappley” and delicious.  The “Chocolate Handkerchief” was covered in small truffles and was very light but very rich… in the sense of great dark chocolate.  The small truffles were all filled with gels and were perfect accents to the paper “handkerchief” of dark chocolate.

Pond

Puff Pastry of Pineapple

Chocolate Handkerchief

The last of the desserts was strange in a way, but delivered an interesting approach to caramel.  The dish called “Shells” consisted of four clam shells, each with different types of caramel filling and two wedges of preserved yuzu. With so many different dimensions they were quite the palate eye opener; sweet, sour, bitter, acidic, with a texture that was out of this world.  As I ate my last “clam,” I smiled knowing we were nearing the finish line.

Shells

We had finished our red wine and the server returned asking once again if we would like an after dinner drink.  Tanya declined and I decided on grappa.  I figured if anyone had a good glass of grappa, it would certainly be here.  They returned with my grappa and we sat, content, totally satisfied, dreams fulfilled, and happier than we’d both been in a long time.

Approached again, with what appeared to be a big red book the server neared where we were sitting.  She placed the book on our table and began to open it. The book itself resembled one of those books from your childhood with the cardboard cutouts that pop-up when it’s opened. This book was amazing… the inside popped up into a giant paper cake and a lit candle appeared from the center like a magic treat.  Everyone clapped in the dining room which cued me into the fact that the present I had given them at the beginning of the meal was about to arrive.

The server returned to our table with a large wooden box that contained many pulled out drawers revealing hundreds of different chocolates of every shape, size, and flavor. The top was removed which revealed more candies wrapped in cellophane as well as a small gray pouch. Tanya was shocked to see the gray pouch she knew so well. She still didn’t quite get what it was doing here, I blame the powerhouse me we just had. Suddenly she realized that there was more to this box than chocolates and began to open her present.  She opened up the pouch and revealed a beautiful, cotton wrapped diamond bracelet. The look on her face was worth my entire trip when . After all, the second anniversary is supposed to be something cotton.  I figured diamonds were the 75th anniversary, which I would never live to see so I simply enhanced the cotton with the bracelet.  We sat there in joy, digesting the moment, realizing that it was coming to an end.  It couldn’t have been any better.  We’d eaten what most consider the best meal in the world and now totally understood why.

As we stood up to leave an escort hurried over to us and asked if I’d like to meet Chef Ferran. My palms began to sweat with excitement.  “Of course I want to meet the number one chef in the world,” I thought to myself.  It is, after all, the reason I traveled so far.  To experience his power and take a piece home with me, hopefully empowering my world as we begin this new decade. The moment, the grand finale I planned almost eight months ago, it had arrived.

Chef Ferran Adrià & The Boswells

We walked towards the kitchen and there he was, sitting with some ladies at the kitchen table. He approached and I was still nervous… I shook his hand, trying to absorb some of his energy at that moment. I knew that my life had been once again changed forever.  We took pictures together, and were presented with an autographed cookbook, as if we needed another gift in addition to the wonderful experience he’d just give us.  We said farewell and made our way to the patio to wait for Antonio, our driver, to return.  Before that happened, though, I was treated to more grappa and one last token to take home with me. It was a wood box with a Cuban Cohiba cigar, a box of Cuban matches and a cigar cutter. The Matre’d said it was to enjoy on my hotel balcony.

My mind was completely blown as we made our way down that winding mountain we’d climbed only a few hours prior. We felt on top of the world! We knew this was and would be one of the best nights of our lives! Back at the hotel I slipped into a robe and began to admire the wonderful cigar they’d given me.  Now, I’d smoked a Cohiba before but didn’t quite get it… but truth be told, back then I didn’t quite get anything.  This was certainly the time to stand on our balcony that overlooked the sea and enjoy the finest cigar in the world.  I prepared the cigar with the cutter and lit it with the fine Cuban matches.  I stood out on the balcony facing the sea… my arms stretched high in the air… I was Superman. I felt like a king. At that point I didn’t realize Tanya was inside taking pictures of me performing my ritual of the “elBulli Finish.”

I tip my toque to you, Chef Ferran Adrià, for the greatness you have achieved and the great inspiration that you have given the industry; it fuels many of our inspirations. We were truly honored to be there on the day we got married, just two short years ago. We went with the highest of expectations and all of them were exceeded by a great margin. I will continue to seek out great meals from great chefs but I believe it was truly a dining experience that can’t be topped.

God only knows what in the world we will have to do next year to match that spectacular night in Roses.