An Interview With Martita Mestey
Learn to be a plumber. I have spent fortunes unclogging clogged drains. You can’t believe what I’ve seen pulled out of ladies’ room toilets. Phone books, lipstick, compacts, electric bills, cell phones, engagement rings, various undergarments, and reams of toilet paper. I’m sure that fifty years of plumbing bills would approach Powerball numbers if I had the courage to add them up: I don’t.
As a part of this series, I had the pleasure of interviewing Tom Schaudel.
A red electric guitar is slung over Tom Schaudel’s shoulder and his faded jeans tremble as he taps his feet to the beat of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Sweet Home Alabama.” Schaudel’s trademark bandana is conspicuously absent as his four band mates — two guitarists, a bassist and a drummer — rock on alongside him.
Schaudel, one of Long Island’s top restaurateurs, is grinning while leading the quintet through the Southern rock classic, his wrist rhythmically down-strumming as if he’s chopping up a Chilean sea bass destined for his frying pan. Between jabs, he bursts out the chorus triumphantly, like the uncorking of an aged wine bottled up far too long.
Thank you so much for doing this with us! Our readers would love to ‘get to know’ you a bit. Can you share the funniest or most interesting story that has happened to you since you became a chef? What was the lesson or take away you took out of that?
This happened on my first “head-chef” job on the first day of a new restaurant. As we got closer to the opening time, I noticed that the flames on the ranges looked funny. The color was different, and the flames were low. I shrugged it off but five minutes later, to my horror, all the flames on the ranges went out. We were about a half hour from opening. I told the owner and he asked me, “Did you order a propane re-fill?” I said, “No, I had no idea that you had to.” I’d never worked with propane before, so I was clueless. I called the propane company and they told me that they wouldn’t be able to get there for several hours. We were totally screwed. I walked out the back door, stared at the heavens and wondered why this only happens to me, and as I looked back down, it hit me like a gift from the cosmos. There sat, catty-corner to the parking lot… a DINER! This was a Saturday night in what was a mostly an industrial area and there weren’t many cars in their parking lot. I thought… just maybe. I ran though the lot, hopped over the guardrail, and into the back door of the kitchen. After asking three guys named Nick if I could speak to the owner he finally came into the kitchen. I told him what was going on and asked if I could “borrow” his kitchen for a couple of hours. To my shock he said, “Yes.” I promised I’d stay out of the way as best as I could and would leave it cleaner than I found it. He told me “Okay, my friend, just ask one of the Nicks if you need anything.” I ran back across the parking lot, stepped over the guard rail, back into my kitchen and told the crew, “We’re going to cook in the diner.” They looked at me as though I’d lost my few remaining marbles and told me we’d never be able to pull it off. Here’s how it went. The cooks got the tickets from the servers, packed everything that I needed into bus-boxes and sent them across the parking lot, over the guard rail, and into the diner. I would then cook and plate the meals, with the help of a Nick or two, tray them up, and send it with a sever back across the parking lot, over the guardrail, and into the restaurant to be served to the customers. Much to my surprise it was going rather smoothly, considering what was happening, and as I was congratulating myself for pulling off this small miracle of a dinner service, I learned that there is a God… and she has one lulu of a sense of humor. About halfway through our seventy or so dinners, it began to rain. I mean it bean to RAIN! Buckets. Just as I was bout to cry, one of the Nicks came to me with a sixty-gallon garbage liner, some Kleenex, and an idea, and said, “Put over girl’s head and tray.” It was brilliant, I must say. We took the garbage liners, cut some eyeholes in them, and sent the servers on their way through the parking lot, over the guard rail, and back into the restaurant. I can’t imagine what the people, who were pulling into our parking lot, were thinking as they watched the servers, with bags over their heads, running back and forth to the diner. The epilog to the story is that we managed to do seventy covers out of the diner kitchen that night and I still reflect on that as a small miracle. The miracle being that we had only two complaints. The first from a table of six who, although they said they enjoyed their food, they also said that they wouldn’t be returning because they were not going to pay those kinds of prices for “diner food.” The second complaint was issued to me personally. I was called out of the kitchen, my kitchen by the way, at the very end of the night by a table of four folks who were very complimentary about the food and the restaurant in general. As I was getting ready to say goodnight to them and thank them for their kind words, one of the women said to me, “I do have one small quibble to tell you about.” I asked, “Sure, what is it?” She said, “My fingerling potatoes were a bit soggy.” I replied, “Well, that’s understandable, it’s raining like hell out there.” The look on her face was priceless. In that one moment all the angst that had built up over the course of the night completely dissipated and I felt the calmness the you feel after a major accomplishment. What did I learn? Two things: the first being that there are too many ways, some unprecedented as I’d learned, for things in a restaurant to go sideways so you better learn to be resourceful. And number two, restaurant people are some of the most generous among us and will stick together and help as best they can when one their own is in need. Oh yeah… and the tendency toward drugs and alcohol can be awfully tempting.
Can you tell us a story about the hard times that you faced when you first started your journey? How did you overcome this obstacle?
I came into the business in 1968. Kitchens were hard places back then. I “trained” under an alcoholic, gun toting maniac, and some American hating French. Lol The former fractured two of my ribs in a dispute over the proper color of medium rare, and as I was watching one of the latter making shrimp bisque which, to me, was the holy grail of soup at the time, he asked, “Come here Americain, you want to learn ‘ow to make zee bisque?” I said, “Yeah Andre, I’d love to.” He replied, “Then go buy a fucking book and don’t look over my shoulder.” There were no HR departments or safe spaces and the profession didn’t carry the same cachet as it does today. Chefs were abusive, loud, and profane, and the work was grueling, hot, and stressful. If you weren’t motivated by the art, tough, and determined, you couldn’t survive. We’ve evolved to some degree over the years and thank heavens for that but it’s still a tough profession. I was there because I loved the creative process and working with food. There were no celebrity chefs or TV shows to aspire to. You had to love the KITCHEN. And I did, so I put my head down and tried to learn the craft to the best of my ability, outworked the other cooks, and generally made myself indispensable to my bosses. As a result, I never had to ask for a raise.
In your experience, what is the key to creating a dish that customers are crazy about?
I think the key to a successful dish is, ultimately, the flavors. A pretty, tasteless dish won’t survive your customers. Presentation is important but not critical: flavor is. I think that food, and wine as well, can freeze a moment in time for you just as clear as a photograph can. The sense of taste and smell, which are intricately connected, are the most privileged in the body. It’s why some folks close their eyes when they savor something that knocks them out. It’s why reduction and time are so important in the cooking process. You need to concentrate flavor and I think that’s the foundation of a successful dish. Upon it, you can build “hot at the moment” ingredients, presentation, and/or scientific shenanigans, but without that foundation, the dish crumbles.
Personally, what is the ‘perfect meal for you’?
It’s more about who I’m with than what I’m eating. “Where” has a bit to do with it as well. I remember a fairly mediocre pasta dish I once had that was elevated to almost perfect because I was sitting on a veranda, on a gorgeous fall day, with a beautiful woman, overlooking a vineyard, in Tuscany. Why bitch about the pasta? All that said. The perfect meal for me would always be a killer pasta first course, fish of some kind with an imaginative preparation as a second, a cheese course for dessert, and a bite of chocolate. Accompanied, of course, by any Albert Boxler Riesling, a 1999 Corton Charlamagne Grand Cru, Coche-Dury, and a 2015 Musigny Grand Cru, Domaine Leroy. Yup, that ought to do it.
Where does your inspiration for creating come from? Is there something that you turn to for a daily creativity boost?
I find inspiration everywhere. It’s all around us if we choose to notice. The colors and flavors of the seasons, especially here in the Northeast where we have four distinct seasons, are a constant source of inspiration. I have a collection of about 600 cookbooks that I regularly refer to. I also read four or five magazines a month, cover to cover. The internet has become a valuable tool for creativity in that it has shrunk the world down to the size of a golf ball and we now have immediate access to thoughts and ideas from people all over the globe. But I think my most focused inspiration comes from eating out. Except for a few weeks of the pandemic, I hadn’t eaten at home since the seventies. I eat out every night that I’m not working because, who wants to do on their day off, everything they do on their day on, and more importantly, I’ve learned so much of what to do, and in fairness, what not to do, by observing other people’s ideas, successes and failures.
Are you working on any new or exciting projects now? What impact do you think this will have?
I’ve recently published my second book called, A Second Helping: Whining and Dining on Long Island. It’s a follow-up to my first book called, Playing With Fire: Whining and Dining on the Gold Coast. Playing With Fire was about chronicling my 100 worst or wackiest customers, and since there seems to be no shortage of talent out there, A Second Helping picks up where Playing With Fire left off. If there’s any impact at all one would hope it would be in the bank account. Al kidding aside, the only impact I would hope for is to give people a few good, hard laughs and to have some folks recognize their behavior and possibly modify it.
What advice would you give to other chefs or restaurateurs to thrive and avoid burnout?
Take some time for yourself. We all think we’re indispensable but what good are you to your business, employees, family, and friends if you’re exhausted, cranky, and crispy? Playing with the kids, golfing, fishing, date nights, exercise, music, and hobbies all pull us away from the grind and allow us to return, energized, creative, and alive.
Thank you for all that. Now we are ready for the main question of the interview. What are your “5 Things I Wish Someone Told Me When I First Started as a Chef” and why? Please share a story or an example for each.
- Get a business degree. I’ve generated a lot of money over the years. I’ve had more than twenty restaurants in that period of time. Costs are the bane of the restaurant business and the margins are getting smaller and smaller. I think a business degree would have helped me to pay attention to that side of the business much sooner and with a sharper eye, and not let so much slip through.
- Learn to be a plumber. I have spent fortunes unclogging clogged drains. You can’t believe what I’ve seen pulled out of ladies’ room toilets. Phone books, lipstick, compacts, electric bills, cell phones, engagement rings, various undergarments, and reams of toilet paper. I’m sure that fifty years of plumbing bills would approach Powerball numbers if I had the courage to add them up: I don’t.
- Study air conditioning and refrigeration. One of the most useful pieces of knowledge you can own is just that. The bills are neck and neck with the plumber and I’m sure that had I had those two disciplines I’d be living in a waterfront home on Maui.
- Cook what you like to eat. As young cooks we’re always exploring. Different restaurants, different cuisines and different mentors are all part of the plan initially, and that’s great, but the sooner you find your culinary “voice,” the sooner, I believe, you’ll find success. It’s the difference between passion and participation and there’s no substitute for passion.
- Embrace your failures. Sounds crazy, right. I’ve learned way more from my failures than my successes. A good ass-kicking is a wake-up call that’s hard to ignore and as painful as it can be, it can also be an invaluable teaching and learning tool. I once got a review that wasn’t up to our usual standards. I was crushed as one would imagine. When I got to work, I was being consoled by the dining room staff and egged on to respond by the kitchen guys, who were angry at the reviewer. I said nothing. I went to the hardware store, bought a frame and hung the review in the kitchen. My cooks looked at me like I was crazy. They asked why would I prominently hang a less than stellar review for everyone to see. I told them that I wanted to look at it every day and be constantly embarrassed so that the pain of the embarrassment would stay with me and not allow me to ever let that happen again. I also told them to read it every day before you start. That man doesn’t dislike us or have an agenda. He ate what he ate, saw what he saw, thought what he thought, and wrote what he wrote; and that, my friends, falls on us. Read it and weep but don’t ever, ever let that happen again. And it hasn’t
What’s the one dish people have to try if they visit your establishment?
I’ll give you 4.
Spring: Rack of Lamb/Grilled Asparagus/Morels/Goat Cheese Souffle/Ginger-Anise Glaze.
Summer: Butter Poached Lobster/Coconut/Kaffir Lime/Parsnip Puree/Mango.
Autumn: Pumpkin Ravioli/Foie Gras/Apples/Sage.
Winter: Sassafras Braised Short Ribs/Buttermilk Potato Mash/Glazed Baby Carrots/Pickled Red Onion.
You are a person of enormous influence. If you could inspire a movement that would bring the most amount of good to the most amount of people, what would that be? You never know what your idea can trigger.
I don’t really have any grand agenda but if I had to say something it would be two things. I’d like to see an apprenticeship program for restaurants, and not only the kitchen but the dining room as well. Service is considered a profession everywhere but here, where it’s sometimes looked down on. I think anything that would give kids a leg up and a sober introduction to what they’re about to get into would be a great thing. Watching the Food Network gives kids a slanted and somewhat romantic view of the business and does nothing to prepare them for the realities. Even schools like CIA and Johnson and Wales have to make certain promises to justify the forty or so thousand dollars a year they charge for the privilege of attending. Eighty thousand dollars later, and after spending two years peeling beets at 16.00 an hour, the disillusioned student applies to the county for a job. A real apprenticeship program would filter those kids who just want to be on TV out, and keep the truly dedicated in. As for the dining rooms, I’ve known people who’ve put themselves through college, single Moms and Dads who’ve supported families, and part-time spouses supplementing incomes, working in dining rooms and bars. It’s nothing to be looked down on. I’ve also known people who’ve done three to four thousand a week, take home, working in the service industry. And…we could use all the good help we can get. My second thing would be to try to bring civility back into the restaurant experience. I’ve been at this for over fifty years and the way we behave in restaurants has never been worse. The rudeness, impatience, and hostility are alarming and I think to take the first step I’d ban cell phones, by law. 50% of the stuff would stop immediately. People would have to talk to each other again and they could practice being nice. It would be a good start.
This was very meaningful, thank you so much, and we wish you only continued success.
Tom Schaudel: 5 Things I Wish Someone Told Me Before I Became a Chef was originally published in Authority Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.