Good morning!
(Applause)
Good morning, everyone!
(Audience) Good morning!
Claudine and I are delighted
to be with you this morning
to be the first one.
I left home when I was 13
to go to apprenticeship,
that was in 1949.
Actually, home was the restaurant
where my mother was the chef,
I was already in that business.
In fact, there was 12 restaurants
through the years in my family
and 12 of them owned by women,
I'm the first male to enter
that business in my family.
I went into apprenticeship from Lyon,
where my mother had her little restaurant
to Bourg-en-Bresse, where
I was born a few miles away.
Prior to that, when
we were about 8-9 years old,
my mother had that little restaurant
so, my brother and I,
before going to school,
would walk with my mother to the market,
the St. Antoine market
along the Saône river,
and she would walk the market one way,
about 1/2 a mile, and buy on her way back.
Buying a case of mushrooms
which was getting dark,
maybe for a third of the price or less.
We carried, of course,
we didn't have a car at the time.
She'd get home and start doing
her vegetables, peeling for the day.
She did not have
a refrigerator at that time.
She had an ice box, that is
a block of ice into a little cabinet,
so she'd have chicken of the day, meat,
fish, usually, whiting or mackerel
or skate -- inexpensive fish,
and that she has to use it that day.
And the day after,
we start all over again.
Everything was organic,
everything was local.
The word organic did not really exist,
chemical fertilizers
did not exist either,
or fungicides, insecticides, pesticides,
all that stuff did not exist,
so everything was, local and organic.
I went into apprenticeship,
I was 13 years old and, at that time,
it was very structured,
well, still is to certain extend,
you got to be there on time,
you got to be clean,
you have to be willing,
it's discipline, it's structure,
that's the way a kitchen can work.
We learn through a type of osmosis.
The chef never really explained anything,
he'd just say, "Do that".
And if you say, "Why?", and
he'd say, "Because I just told you".
That was about the end
of the apprenticeship.
Probably, just as good
for someone 13-14 years old.
So, we worked, repeating, and repeating,
and repeating those techniques ad nauseam,
we were not allowed
to go to the stove for a year.
So, during that year,
I plucked a lot of chicken,
eviscerated a lot of chicken,
scaled fish, chopped parsley,
all of that type of things,
and then the chef called me --
My name was "you" at the time,
then by the time I went to the stove
they called me Jacques, so I got the name.
He said, "You start tomorrow".
"I start tomorrow?"
I didn't know how to do it,
but when I went to the stove,
I knew how to do it.
It was through that type of osmosis,
things that you show,
I've got a book called, "La technique",
that I published in 1975
so, it's 40-year old, and I don't cook
the way I did 40 years ago.
But the way I did an egg white,
or sharpen a knife, or bone out a chicken,
to [inaudible]... it is that kind
of permanence, that kind of continuity
that you'll learn in the kitchen.
To be first a craftman.
And very often it's very difficult
to explain in words
something that you can show --
It's easier to show --
than to explain in words --
You can do that to chocolate as well --
You'd do that at exactly
the right temperature --
and we used to --
put the butter in
a little container and that on top,
and now you can charge 20 bucks for it --
(Laughter)
Put that in water that's cold --
(Applause)
Thank you, Titine.
For me, first you have to be a craftsman.
You have to be a craftsman, and
it's that repeat, and repeat, and repeat,
that is very important.
Just like --
you spend a 1-2 years
in a studio in art school
and learn the law of perspective
-- it is perfectly fine,
and you learn how to mix
yellow and blue to make green,
what to do with your sand,
with your spatula, with the brush --
then you can come out and
do one painting after another.
So that makes you a chef? Not really.
But you're by then, a good craftsman,
and that's very important.
You have to first know your trade,
whether you are a shoemaker,
or a cabinet maker, like my father,
first, you know your trade.
So, those things that we boned out
I learned as a child --
Then, I learned this from...
I don't remember where I learn that but
when you learn something
you learn it a certain way
and after a while, you don't remember
where it comes from,
and you do it your way, eventually.
To do a type of lollipop like that
as we used to do that you --
So, those techniques, as I said,
first make you a craftsman,
and if you are a good craftsman
then you can run a restaurant.
There are about
20,000 restaurants in New York
and 100 are well known, maybe 200,
maybe 300, maybe 400 even,
but what happen to the 19,500
is that they are run by artisans,
people who know how to work properly,
and this is the only way if you become,
in my opinion, a good craftsman,
if you have that type of knowledge
then you can express yourself.
This is half of yourself,
the other half has to do with talent.
If you happen to have talent like,
if you have taste, a bit of a vision,
if you have a little bit of creativity,
then you can express yourself,
you now have the means
to express yourself,
if you've gone through those techniques.
You have to repeat those techniques,
as I said, long enough
so you can afford to forget it after.
Here we are,
half of this, now the filet --
(Claudine) If you have any questions
you should shout them out,
it's a good opportunity.
There's going to be a test.
(Laughter)
(Jacques) This way --
There's my carcass.
Now, [inaudible] filet,
you remove it here --
This one here --
So, you free your hand
by learning those techniques
and as I said, you can think in term
of texture and other things
because, as I said, you free your hand
by repeating and repeating.
Now, this is one part of yourself,
half of yourself is there,
it's the craftsman,
and the other part of yourself
will depend on whether
you have talent or not,
and even if you have
a little bit of talent, not too much,
you can still run a little restaurant
by being a good technician.
If you have a lot of talent,
then you can take it further,
but not all the chefs are René Redzepi,
or David Chang, or José Andrés --
Here we are --
(Applause)
(Jacques) At that point
you really don't want to cut the bone
because the skin will shrink
all over the place so, we break it.
And you know, the interesting part,
if you carve in the dining room,
or if you do a quail
or a pheasant or a goose,
the morphology is the same.
If you cut a chicken
in pieces to do a skew,
you cut exactly in the sample place,
at the shoulder joint, at the hip joint.
Okay.
Now, you have to be very proud
of what you're doing
but you also have to be humble
to a certain extend
because there's always someone
who can think with
more creativity than you,
or who can think harder than you do.
We're all limited
by the extent of our taste
and they are different,
and sometimes you have a food critic
who really doesn't know how to cook
but maybe can taste better than you do.
We follow on that
and sometimes it's difficult to take
but that's the way it is.
For me, a young chef should work
with a good chef, in a good place,
and at that point your [inaudible] is
to try to visualize what that chef does,
if he or she works with you
then you try to see --
Yeah, where there's no bones --
a little bit here --
you try to see the food through
his or her sense of aesthetic,
their sense of taste,
and even if it doesn't coincide with you,
most of the time
it won't coincide with your sense of taste
or your sense of aesthetic,
but it doesn't really matter
at that point,
you have to look at it through that,
and you do it for a year or two,
then you work with another chef
for a year or two,
and again looking at things
from a different point of view,
different sense of aesthetic,
and then maybe with a third one
a few more times,
then at some point
you're going to give it back.
You're going to give it back,
and now you're going to filter it
through your sense of taste,
through your sense of aesthetic,
that's how it works
because ultimately, at some point,
you cannot escape yourself,
you are who you are, and that's the way
how you are going to do it.
It's always a bit of a paradox for me
because I work with young chefs
at Boston University
and everyone wants to do
something special and different.
I do a class which I call a perfect meal,
which is a roast chicken,
a bol of potatoes and a salad.
It used to be this way --
they all go to the stove
to do the same type of things
and I say, "Don't try to blew my mind
because I know that I have 12 people here
and I'm going to have
12 different chicken."
That's the way it is so --
you don't really have to
torture yourself to be different,
you are different,
there's no way that you can do
exactly the same thing
than the person next to you.
This is a good beef stuffing but --
just to give you an idea.
Okay, Titine --
We have our galantine,
that is if we poach it,
and our ballotine if we roast it.
Thank you.
So, we put it this way --
(Claudine) No questions?
(Jacques) Okay.
- (Jacques) Very quiet here --
- (Claudine) I know --
(Claudine) Do you want some wine?
(Jacques) Ah, my daughter knows me --
(Laughter)
(Jacques) Our galantine, so --
(Applause and cheering)
(Jacques) Up to that point --
(Claudine) You have five minutes --
(Jacques) Oh yeah... okay.
the technique to do something
remain fairly constant --
but at that point
this is what it'll change,
when you're happy with the way
how you cook it, what you do with it,
the seasoning and all of that
become your own.
Okay --
(Eggs cracking sound)
- (Jacques) Pepper, Titine?
- (Claudine) Yep --