stlbites.com – st. louis food blog of bill burge

The Stolen Grill: Kansas City Part 1

Oct 5, 2007 general food, restaurants

Lawrence Journal

In my first year as a cook my chef at the Racquet Club Ladue, Chris Desens, convinced me to try out for the St. Louis Chef de Cuisine Junior Culinary Olympic team. Having made the cut, after months of freakishly-early morning practice at the University Club Tower kitchens, we packed up a van and headed out for our state competition to be held at Johnson County Community College in Kansas City. It was an amazing experience. We were rewarded with the knowledge that while there was still so much to learn, we had come a long way in a very short time. Being asked to perform at high level, in a strange kitchen, is no cakewalk, and through our own hard work and dedication we learned to deal with diversity. (How does a culinary school have electric stoves?)

While things went merely OK at the competition (we took silver) it was a phone call I would make which would most dramatically change my outlook on food after that weekend.

Always eager to eat anything or anywhere new I’d spoken to Chef (Desens) about what might be worth eating in Kansas City prior to heading out. He mentioned a “little place” called The Stolen Grill he’d heard good things about. Eagerly calling to make a reservation I was told they were booked solid. But, I am my Father’s son. Not one to except “no”, after pleading for some time, and explaining that we were culinary students in town for one night, they finally, graciously, yielded to my will. They agreed to squeeze us in. They did not agree to guarantee our comfort.

“Little place” was an understatement. The Stolen Grill couldn’t have sat more than about thirty people. They put a table just in front of the door leaving barely enough room for servers to squeeze around our table. Even now, just thinking about it, I can’t help but laugh about the situation because my friend Chuck actually had to move each time a customer wanted to come or go. He was that close to the door.

Equal parts chaos and skill, from just outside the tiny kitchen we could see the flurry of action as the small crew prepared each dish. It was amazing. At 21, it was a level of cooking I’d never witnessed. The cooks moved food down the line towards their makeshift pass where each sauce was made a la minute by the chef in tiny ½ quart saucepans before personally plating each dish. As the night wore on we noticed cooks pulling out an array of meats and fish; cutting fresh pieces off each time an order was fired. Our jaws dropped to the floor as we wondered how they found time to break proteins down to order.

As the night neared its end the chef, Patrick Weber, came over to greet us. Hailing from Iowa originally, he had the sincerity of the heartland as he told us the story about how he picked the restaurant’s name — he’d seen some homeless men cooking with a street drain over a fire in New York. Still, I’ve no doubt we made fools of ourselves as we fawned over him and his food. Chuck was the only one with composure; thinking to ask about the proteins. The response: just like any of us, the rock-stars in The Stolen Grill kitchen were in the weeds. They were so busy they ran out of prep.

And the meal you ask? It was amazing. I’m not sure if I requested it, or if they insisted in order to make things go more smoothly, but we basically had a six course tasting with wine pairings. To that point, it was the best meal I had experienced.

For the first time I tasted the sweetness of langoustine, the more delicate cousin to the lobster, in what is still the best bisque I’ve ever had. I had the first oyster I truly enjoyed with its fresh briny taste of the sea not overwhelming the texture as they had for me in the past.

Most importantly, I saw how wine can elevate a good meal to greatness when thoughtfully matched. I can’t recall the exact foie gras preparation other than it was seared, but I do vividly remember it being paired with a Bonny Doon Muscat Vin de Glaciere. As the cool crisp sweetness of the wine dissipated the richness of each warm creamy bite, food had taken its permanent hold on me.

I took away a lifetime of memories about what a dining experience can be that night. Surrounded by good food, and great friends, life doesn’t get a whole lot better.