The Perfect Ending

December 7th, 2011
It’s something that we have thought about 100 times.  The last dinner, the end of tour, the return
home (wherever that may be), and to a semblance of a normal life (whatever that may be).  The
mere idea of leaving the life to which we have become accustomed, and the thought of leaving
one another, inspires feelings that oscillate between elation and sheer terror.  And what chef do
you really want to subject to seven slightly emotionally unhinged individuals with the kind of
elevated expectations that can only come from doing eighty-some odd dinners?  Well, normally, I
would pity the chef that had to cook the last dinner of tour.  That is, unless it is not one, but two
chefs, and unless those two chefs happen to be two of your own…Caleb Coe and Katie Wyer.

Normally, we meet the chefs and see their menus on the day of the dinners.  We have virtually
no idea how or why they chose to cook the dishes they did.  We don’t know the process or
thought behind securing their ingredients or any difficulties experienced when planning the menu.
But when you live with the chefs, when you experience the process along with them, you quickly
learn that there is a lot more to it than meets the eye…or should I say, mouth.

Caleb and Katie began working weeks before the dinner, bouncing ideas off one another until a
tentative menu was formed.  And after countless calls, numerous visits to markets and
surrounding farms, and a lengthy search for a goat, it was finalized.  For those that do not see
the events leading up to the dinner, it may appear to be just another day in the kitchen: a chef
arrives at the dinner site the day of the event, knocks out a handful of passed appetizers and
four seated courses, packs up his/her knives, and does it again tomorrow (albeit inside at
his/her restaurant).  Most of the time, they make it look easy.  But let me tell you, easy is the last
word I would use to describe what goes into executing a dinner.

The crew met up with Caleb and Katie at their Ventura prep kitchen two days before their
November 9th dinner.  For 48 hours, with the additional help of Katie’s mom Andi and boyfriend
Jamin, the crew prepped.  We diced, we sautéed, we roasted, and we washed.  We shelled
beans for the turkey stew and cut bread for the gingerbread pudding.  We made tartar sauce for
the mako tacos and yogurt dressing for the mixed green salad.   And best of all, we tested and
we tasted.  We sampled Caleb’s bruléed delicata squash and Katie’s spaghetti squash with
avocado and cilantro.

Those two days were by far some of the best of the entire tour.  Standing at the kitchen sink,
with hundreds of baby carrots left to peel, there was nowhere I would rather be and nothing else
I would rather be doing.  The energy, the support that flowed through the kitchen was palpable.
And nothing against their respective (and inarguably noteworthy) bus driving and expediting
skills, but to see Caleb and Katie in the kitchen, preparing an inventive menu they were both so
proud of, was truly unparalleled.

Caleb and Katie do not play it safe.  In fact, I’m not entirely sure they know the meaning of the
phrase.  They are imaginative and impressive in everything they do, and this time was thankfully
no different.  Case in point: the goat.  Not only was the animal hard to find, but the preparations
taken to cook the goat were anything but effortless.  Caleb and Katie modeled the spit after that
used for the lambs at our September 17th dinner at Spain’s Remelluri Estate, a roasting method
that uses radial coal heat to cook the suspended animal slowly and evenly.  And on the night
before the dinner, Jamin and Jeremy successfully recreated the infamous spit.  After a visit to
Home Depot, they arrived at McGrath Brothers Farm with a pallet of cinder blocks, sheet metal,
and gauge wire, and set to work.  Hours of digging, leveling, stacking, and pounding later, the
smoker was ready for the goat.

Photo Credit: Jeremy Fenske

And true to form, Caleb and Katie’s dinner was colorful…literally.  Instead of using the usual
white napkins, they opted for red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple.  Yes, they chose the
rainbow.  Although I was initially quite hesitant about their color choice, I had to admit, set amid
an expansive patch of pumpkins, the napkins looked beautiful.  And it was perfectly fitting that
the dinner was full of the personal touches of two people who had put their hearts and souls into
this dinner, and even more than that, into the past six months of tour.

Photo Credit: Jeremy Fenske

That dinner was not only particularly meaningful for Caleb and Katie, but it was for all of us as well.  For the past six months, we have been a team.  We have lived and worked together.  We have packed and unpacked trailers.  We have set tables and served over 13,000 people.  We have been there for each other through injury, sickness, and personal hardships.  We have spent every waking (and non-waking) moment together.  So to finish the last dinner in the same way that we had lived and worked for so long, as a family…well, I can’t really imagine it any other way.

126 Days Later…

December 5th, 2011
On June 27, we left California in a Dodge truck bound for Oregon.  We were unsure what the next four months would hold; unsure how we would work with each other, these people we didn’t yet truly know; and, for those of us new this year, unsure about life on a bus. 126 days later, we crossed back into the Golden State markedly different.  We were confident and accomplished; in a little over four months, we had visited 28 different states, 8 countries, and had hosted 57 dinners.  We had crossed the Atlantic and proved that our farm dinners did indeed translate into other languages.  These seven other people weren’t just coworkers, they were our family; and life on a bus…well, we all adapted pretty darn well.

It is a mix of emotions, to once again be back in the state that I had called “home” for 26 years.  It is of course wonderful to return to a place that I love and have longed for.  But, the truth of the matter is that “home” is a relative term.  It turns out, for me home was no longer a permanent address, complete with such luxuries as four walls and privacy.  Home was a red and white, constantly moving vehicle that I shared with the people I now couldn’t imagine life without.

A Man and his Pig

December 3rd, 2011
Rene Ortiz.  The man, the myth, the farm dinner legend.  I had heard the story of last year’s October 10th dinner more than once.  For the evening’s second course, Chef Ortiz of Austin Texas’ La Condesa was to prepare a whole Richardson Farms hog with pickles, cornbread, and apple chutney.  About 15 minutes before the plates were to hit the table, front-of-the-house manager Elaine Skinner looked at expeditor Troy MacLarty with utter fear.  The pigs were still whole.  Now, I do not know much about butchering whole animals, but I do know that for most people, it takes a hell of a lot longer than 15 minutes to do.  Well, Rene is apparently not “most people.”  From head to tail, he expertly wielded his knife at an alarming speed and plated the pork with time to spare.

Photo Credit: Jeremy Fenske

Rene’s pig prowess alone was enough to ask him to do a dinner again this year; not to mention that the pig that he so deftly butchered left dinner guests speechless.   Rene returned this year with pig once again this year…two Twin Oaks 45-lb. Red Wattle and Bershire crosses to be exact.  And while I am fully aware of the boldness of my next statement, I am going to write it anyway.  Rene’s pulled pork with housemade tofu, Texas gulf oyster sauce, broccoli rabe and pasilla chilis was, to date, the single best dish of the season.  Aromatic, slightly spicy, and layered with both Thai and Mexican flavors, this dish was absolutely addicting.  Servers brought heaping platters to their tables, only to remove the empty plates just minutes later.

Photo Credit: Jeremy Fenske

And the way that Rene prepared this dish was something that I had never seen before.  To prepare the pork, he used a Caja China, which is, in the most simple of explanations, a wooden box with a charcoal grate on the top of it.  Baffled by this unfamiliar contraption and how it produced such a tasty pig, I decided to do a little investigation.  After some reading, googling, and a bit of YouTubing, I found out a little more about this mystical apparatus.

Often described as “The Magic Box,” the Caja China can roast an entire pig in just four hours.  After a pig is properly cleaned, brined, etc., it is placed in the sealed box and a charcoal fire is lit on the racks above the box.  As heat from the charcoal circulates down, the pigs are roasted slowly and evenly, creating a famously crispy skin.

Texas may have been once known as the land of steak and potatoes, but this is simply not the case anymore. It is a place of handmade tofu, artisanal products, and a fervent adherence to local ingredients; a place where inspired chefs use innovative cooking techniques to prepare some of the most delicious food one may ever have the good fortune to taste.

Photo Credit: Jeremy Fenske

Photo Credit: Jeremy Fenske

Photo Credit: Jeremy Fenske