Before cuisine there was nature
Before Cuisine There Was Nature” — that was the title of this event I went to at Enderun Colleges. It was supposed to be an industry forum or discussion on food. I saw Claude Tayag, Gaita Fores, Mickey Fenix, Deanna Ongpin Recto, Nancy Reyes … all old friends. The event was held at the school’s Atrium, a big room with high ceilings and lots of glass, meaning it had plenty of sun that sort of got in the way of the presentation, but that was all right. As I sat there waiting for the event to begin, a little brown sparrow flew around, an outside bird inside the bright room. How appropriate, I thought. The bird represents nature. It flew up, across, went up on stage and strutted around pecking things from the rug. Down on the marble floor, its little bird feet sliding this way and that, it pecked at crumbs that must have fallen from the students’ breakfasts.
The event was started by the master of ceremonies, Lance Masters, PhD, the college’s provost, dressed in his favorite summer costume — a white suit with red bowtie with a parrot print. He reminded me somewhat of a cross between two characters — Howdy Doody and Kenkoy — as he appeared ready to go to a dance in either the old Liwayway, Bulaklak or Graphic. We had five speakers before Alain Ducasse. First Bel Castro, a professor and personal friend, who was all dressed up in a stunning black pantsuit and wearing makeup. She looked wonderful. She was followed by Reto Klauser, area manager of the Shangri-La Group of hotels, who had a wonderful presentation on management and change. Then J Gamboa of the Milky Way family and a culinary school called Les Toque Blanches, followed by Amy Besa, New York restaurateur of a new Filipino restaurant in Brooklyn called The Purple Yam. For 13 years she and her chef husband, Romy Dorotan, ran Cendrillon, another Filipino restaurant in SoHo. I will write about them later because I was most charmed by Alain Ducasse.
He was a simple man who walked up to the stage with two women, Nana Ozaeta and Anna Austria, his translator. She was Filipina and she translated his French into English. She did that marvelously. Nana Ozaeta also spoke French. M. Ducasse only spoke French, so I anticipated sitting there, understanding little and consequently falling half-asleep.
But Alain Ducasse was an unprepossessing, charming man. I liked him when he talked about being a little boy growing up on his grandmother’s farm. He remembered how his grandmother would call out to him and tell him to go outside and pick vegetables for whatever she was cooking. He would go out and pick them, he said. Before that, they were alive. Then they would sort of bleed white when he picked them and brought them in and his grandmother would put them in the soup or whatever it was she was cooking. You could see from his story that he relished the memory of being with his grandmother and helping her cook. That brought the light of happiness into his eyes.
All during all their talks, all during the interview of Alain Ducasse, the little brown sparrow flew around from front to back, from side to side, from top to bottom, pecking interminably for all sorts of almost invisible things. A charming little bird, representing the inalienable rights of nature. It just went about doing what it pleased.
Ducasse talked about how many restaurants he had put up around the world. He has a restaurant almost everywhere, from Monaco to Paris to Britain to New York, Japan, Hong Kong, China, Korea, Mauritius, and many more. He said he acquaints himself with the local culture first through popular cuisine, which he tries to understand and see what similarities it has with his European culture.
Even if they mostly spoke in French and it was difficult to understand, you found yourself looking at the man, trying to understand what he was saying and really listening to the young lady’s translation. There was a rapport between them that held me in its spell.
What I remember most is that during the open forum a student asked them to give her instructions on what she was supposed to buy and if she could afford it over the powder substitutes. People answered what they thought. Alain Ducasse said, “All over the world you might go to quite a few lousy restaurants and find them full of people. And you might go to a few of the best restaurants and find them only half-full of people. What do you do? That’s life.” He shrugged his shoulders and made a grand gesture with his hands that said it all.
People stayed on to have his books autographed and chat among themselves. I went out for merienda and two glasses of champagne. Charming event, I thought, especially Alain Ducasse and the little brown sparrow who was indifferent to it all and just assiduously searched for crumbs, proving that indeed, before cuisine there was — and there always will be — nature.
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