Nice write up from Portland Phoenix about my personal chef business back when it was called "Chef@home".
Chez your place?
Think personal chefs are only for the privileged? Then feel privileged
BY ANDY KING
It had been years since I’d seen someone wearing chef’s whites in my very own kitchen. My checkered pants and clogs have long since been hung in the closet alongside wife Jackie’s pastry jacket and toque, splattered with ancient pastry cream and cocoa powder from bygone jobs. So when we arrived home last Tuesday from a beer-steak sandwich-and-chicken wing luncheon at the Dogfish Café, we were slightly shocked to catch a glimpse of Chef Rick Barbata flashing around our place with a pan of sautéed leeks and bacon.
It’s true that we had hired him out to cook for a two-couple dinner we were hosting that evening, and it’s also true that we gave him a key to the house. So why were we surprised?
Your own apartment, or house, or parents’ house always carries with it a certain smell. Smell is the sense most strongly linked to memory, and I believe each and every one of you can remember a time when, traveling somewhere far from home, you stopped, smelled whatever was in the air, and said something like, "Wait a minute, why does it smell like Grandma’s house here in the Mekong Delta?"
When Jackie and I stepped into our house, we didn’t smell the typical dog fur and coffee that had nestled its way into the deepest regions of each room, but something else. Something wonderful.
It was the smell of absolution.
It’s that freedom from obligation and stress that Chef Rick is selling these days, after closing shop on Rick’s, on Congress Street, and serving a brief stint at Finch’s, in Falmouth. He is currently launching his own business, Chef@home, which specializes in high-quality, home-cooked meals for just about anyone who needs them. While parties and dates are by all means within his realm of expertise, he’s clearly passionate about allowing families to gather at the dinner table and enjoy their time together.
"We’re losing connections with our families," he explains, "We’re going out to dinner, we’re buying frozen food. It’s what I do best, cook with friends, and I think there’s a huge need for it."
His assertion isn’t just philosophical, either. According to the United States Personal Chef Association, the number of personal chefs (as opposed to private chefs, who live and work at a typically wealthy residence, or "crib") has gone from a negligible amount in 1992 to about 5000 in 2002, and is expected to double again by the end of this decade. Entrepreneur Magazine even rated it fourth in its list of Top Home-based Businesses for 2004.
While shopping, cooking, and spotlessly cleaning up for a number of families a week may seem like a lot of work to some, keep in mind that Rick used to work in Los Angeles, catering for movie production sets. And while meeting the stars of Titanic, My Best Friend’s Wedding, and The Cable Guy (among others) was cool for a time, he also worked 16-hour days trying to feed a 1000 people three squares: "I burn hot, so I don’t mind working, but three months at a time at about 90 different locations . . . it was just wild." So don’t feel bad about special requests.
But you probably won’t even have to do that, as Rick showed me a preliminary list of 300 items that he could prepare, from fried chicken to enchiladas with molé. Vegetarian, vegan, gluten-free, lo-carb, Rick says he loves the challenge and the science of cooking specialized meals. You can plan for one meal or a week of dinners, frozen or fresh, and snacks for the kids and appetizers for next week’s visit from the Johnsons. You inherited Uncle Sven’s recipe for Swedish Meatballs, but you’re a hack at the stove? Hand it over. No problem.
We weren’t so picky when it came to our meal. All of us eat a good amount of anything, so I just wanted Rick to cook something he felt comfortable with, whatever looked fresh. The menu he came up with was perfect for the warming weather: watercress, grapefruit, and avocado salad with pomegranate molasses vinaigrette; Asian-style omelets with shiitake mushrooms, green onions, and miso; and seared diver scallops with rosti potatoes (fanned out and fried) and a bed of leeks and bacon, served over green pea puree. All of it tasted fresh, wonderful, and familiar, despite the detached familiarity of being served at your own dinner table. It’s the same feeling you get when you ride in the passenger seat of your own car for the first time.
Our menu might be too complex for your family every night, and Rick admitted as much, but it did speak to his self-described food philosophy: fresh and vibrant. "I don’t adulterate the food with a lot of complex ingredients. I let it speak for itself." And now, cooking at your house, he’s letting that food speak for you. So, vicariously through Rick, you can talk to food, and that’s the best deal of all.
Andy King
May 7 – 13, 2004
