Too many cooks spoil multi-chef festivals
That (plus the release of some vintage wines) was the hook. None was a celebrity, but all of them had stripes. Three had moved on (including the host chef, Seth James); one had stayed with the mothership (John Paul Twomey). One (Michael Wilson) had gone to China; the other (Casey Wall) down the road, to his own place in Collingwood. Yet among the dishes prepared, there was harmony, cohesion and a sense of enjoying one meal, not five. The food was excellent. It worked. And that was rare.
So I’m going to put it out there right now, as someone who, over 20 years, has been privileged to attend many multi-chef meals at festivals and events without often putting his hand in his own pocket: they are over.
I don’t think they work. Inevitably, they are rarely worth the money. Many are for charity; that’s different. But increasingly, with festivals turning into an industry (Fairfax Media seems to put more effort into events than publications) you — the punter — are being asked for solid money in exchange for a curated experience.
But the value is not there.
The typical scenario? A host venue a long way from home for the star candidates, who are expected to recreate their magic. It smacks of risk. In so many cases that magic is tied to the kitchen, support team and dining room that made them famous in the first place.
So, at the risk of biting — and then voraciously chewing — the hand that feeds me, I must start with the event freshest in mind. Not only were my wife and I guests of Brand Events, proprietors of Margaret River Gourmet Escape, but I was paid a small stipend to MC a dinner at Xanadu winery. Win-win, I thought. At the invitation of BE’s PR firm to attend one or more events while in Western Australia, I’d asked to attend the Xanadu dinner as a guest because: (a) chef Brent Savage, from Bentley in Sydney, creates food I love; (b) I was curious about food in Mexico City, where chef Jorge Vallejo, whose restaurant Quintonil is 35th on the old World’s 50 Best Restaurants list, comes from; and (c) I was in the district that weekend anyway.
The dinner was $300 a head, with wine and water. And the food? Well let’s just say it didn’t translate. Was there magic on the plate? Not at all.
I love Bentley. I suspect, having spoken to the charming Vallejo, I’d love Quintonil (although that’s blind speculation). But a vast dinner for, at a guess, 150, with armies of servers marching out the same dishes like a wedding or function … Pleasant, but ...
Why did I expect any different? And I don’t think the chefs do themselves any favours participating in this stuff. If I’d never been to Bentley, for example, but had been to the Xanadu multi-chef dinner … Well, I’d be wondering what all the fuss was about. The next night, over at Vasse Felix where three Marco Pierre White alumni cooked a $380-a-head meal and then told everyone how great The Godfather is, was “OK”, in the words of The West Australian’s critic; $740 per double is a lot of money to stump up for “OK”.
These are the issues:
- Numbers. Sending out up to 170 plates of the same thing at the same time is tough. Restaurant kitchens aren’t set up for it and high-end chefs are not caterers.
- Familiarity. Famous chefs earn their reputation working with particular equipment and colleagues.
- Space. Restaurant kitchens are a hierarchy; five head chefs doing their own thing means compromise.
- Curation. Sometimes it works, but I’ve been to multi-chef dinners where the relationship between dishes is opaque, to say the least.
A restaurant is more than the sum of its parts. You can’t extract one element, no matter how pivotal, and expect it to translate. Festivals are fine; there is clearly an audience for them, and a marketplace for exhibitors. But as a diner? The fairy dust is thin on the plate.
Save your money.
Source: The Australian, John Lethlean, 9th January 2016
