Roland G. Henin

by Susan Crowther

  SUSAN: What did Chef Henin see in you?

  COLIN: That’s a good question, man. I was shocked that he actually called me back. [Laughs] I was one that … I would question him more than a lot of other people. I showed him that I wanted to learn. I was a little more humble than most, at the time. Like, I don’t know anything! Please, teach me. I was receptive, but at the same time, strong-willed enough to say, “Hey, I don’t think that is a good idea.” I would never say things to placate him, more like a straight-shooter. When you’re doing these events, he doesn’t want to waste time with a yes man. He appreciated that I was able to learn and be moldable, but if I didn’t like something, I’d call bullshit. The other people who Chef called in were the same way: Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it, but also, don’t micro-manage me. Just tell me how you want it done or let me do my thing.

  Henin called on a short list of people who would travel around for DN events. We’d take the Red Eye, make some magic happen, and then fly out. He was the scourge of a lot of general managers at different properties, because he knew the way to run an event, while they all had their own ideas and itineraries. He was stubborn, saying This is how we’re doing it, because this is how the food is going to taste best. I’m in charge of food. They’d have to rearrange their event and timing to bend to his will, because he was the Master Chef. I can’t tell you how many of these GMs went to the head of the corporation wanting to get this SOB out of their properties. It was crazy for a chef to have such impact on a GM and a company. We were always stuck in the back of the kitchen. He was the guy who stood up for the rights of the chef, to honor the food.

  Once, we were doing a bid on a property, going up against the Wolfgang Puck operation. All the higher-ups are there pitching, and we fly in to do a food sampling. There was some hiccup with how the higher-ups wanted to present versus what Roland wanted to do. They came around to me to be the middleman. I said, “I’m not going against Henin.” They wanted people to come in with platters and set up right in the conference room. Henin had me do an ice carving of their place, with everything all arranged in the other room. He wanted the potential clients to walk into the room and be blown away. It was a huge setup, just incredible. We destroyed the opponent.

  His respect for other properties … we’re going in as guests into other people’s kitchens. After we turn out a fourteen-hour day, we put it back better than it was before. Teaching that respect: no matter how much time you put into something, you still have to do it the right way. Not just, Oh, I’m tired. I’ll do it tomorrow and walk off.

  Chef Bennett did a similar event with Chef Henin at the top of Niagara Falls, a high-end luncheon for senators. It was off-site—there was no kitchen. Bill told me it was the most stress he had ever felt in his entire life, and he’s the guy who doesn’t get stressed out. When I took over his position and was going to do that event, he told me, “Good luck with that one.” We did five hundred people at the top of the Falls: appetizers and dessert, in one tent; fish and entrees, in another tent. Right when I got there, he says, “You’re in charge of appetizers and desserts. Here are two chefs from sportservice.” He took all the guys I was used to working with off to his entrée tent. He was like, “All right, make it happen.” I drew the maps and organized all the prep that we needed to bring onsite, etc. They didn’t have anything up there. It was probably the most intense thirty-six hours of making sure everything was perfect. During those many crazy events, over my seven years with him, I came to realize from Chef Roland that no matter how far “in the weeds” we were, or when other people dropped the ball on something crucial, or in the moments we thought to ourselves There’s no way in hell we are going to pull this off, we kept telling ourselves it wasn’t a question of if it was going to happen, but how it was going to happen.

  SUSAN: Any funny stories stick out?

  COLIN: Once at the CIA Greystone campus in Napa, we were doing a Mystery Basket cook-off, a televised event. Four chefs competed. A little background information: Roland was doing the interviews with a satellite feed. When he’s in a hurry, he can’t convert to English right away, so he had a French translator helping out, which created a little delay. As the dishes came up, he described them. A few dishes came out, and then this one guy from Yosemite thought it would be cool to do a purple potato cannoli. He had these sheets of purple potatoes that he fried like a cannoli, and then he piped mashed potatoes into it. He presented it with two lamb chops “frenched” on either side and then stood the purple potato cannoli straight up! It basically looked like a dick and balls. Which happens. It’s funny; they’ve done studies on brain stimuli and found that food and sex affect the same area of the brain, so you see phallic presentations sometimes or …

  Anyway, he gave me a stern “Henin” look and said, “That looks like a dick and balls!” He told me to take it to the table, away from where they were filming. He continued speaking French into the headset as the interview proceeded. One of the production assistants sees the plate and says, “This is amazing!” and proceeds to take it over and set it down in front of Henin, who is turning around just as the camera is about to pan onto this “boner” plate. With the French-English translator delay, he just goes, “Whhhooaaa—!” His face is all red. Just before the camera comes filming all the plate presentations, he quickly pushes the cannoli over, so it doesn’t stand straight up.

  SUSAN: Wow [laughs] … that story truly sticks out!

  COLIN: Chef can take it. He is a true innovator.

  We have a big event, the AT&T—a big golf tournament hosting tens of thousands of people. My sous-chef and I were planning how we’re going to structure this thing. We kept getting stuck, like it was beyond our scope. Then I remembered the time at Niagara Falls, how we had to structure that remote, and suddenly everything came together. I used the Chef Henin’s framework and superimposed it onto this event. It came together seamlessly. Just from doing that one event with Chef Henin, it created the blueprint for how we organize our events. The AT&T is in our fifth year. It’s an incredible event and brings us new members.

  The more I reflect, the more I understand the depth of what I have learned from El Tuci [Toucan] …. some of my South America cooks called him that because his big red nose reminded them of that bird. He’d always build the team. Even if it’s been a crazy-long day, he’d bring us together for a beer to strategize for tomorrow. When I’m at work, I’ll step back and look at the situation instead of getting myopically focused. I don’t have all the answers. That stays with me to this day.

  Mary Burich

  Former Public Relations, Delaware North

  Cooking is an act of love. And you don’t measure out love.

  MARY: I heard Roland Henin’s name often after joining the company in 2000. At that point, he was based in Yosemite. I had heard about this larger-than-life figure, a Master Chef who was an informal mentor to many of our chefs. We became fast friends and colleagues who worked well together. As you can imagine, he had incredible publicity value for the company. He was always so generous with time, in terms of interviews and cooking demonstrations. He’d get involved with charity events, cooking meals, and so forth.

  SUSAN: What are some stories you remember?

  MARY: So many … a lot of funny moments. I accompanied him and other DN chefs to the Culinary Olympics in Erfurt, Germany, reporting back to the states about their progress and helping them with props, printed menus, etc. I was also the designated driver because they had been up nights on end. Another time, he and I were in England, and I will go to my grave owing him for this … a media opportunity where he ended up preparing this wonderful meal in a borrowed kitchen with no help. We then hailed a cab and loaded the food, heading across London to the radio station at about 9:30 p.m. Needless to say, the radio people were in their glory. I don’t believe we ever received much in the way of publicity; they were probably just looking for a free meal.

  I was setting up an interview for him with one of our industry parks
, and the interviewer said, “I am always impressed when people can learn a second language and can be funny in that second language.” I had never thought about that, but that impressed me greatly. Chef has a huge mastery of the English language and the culture. He wasn’t born or raised or trained in it, but he is definitely an American true and true, in so many ways.

  Chef and I were out at a culinary competition in Las Vegas a few years back. We walked through the tunnels of the hotel to the Food Hall, and so many young chefs would stop us. He was like a culinary god! They would stop and say, “Ahh, Chef Henin” or “Ahh, Chef Roland!”

  The young chefs would go on and on. “Are you judging?”

  When he wasn’t, they’d say, “Thank God!”

  And he’d laaaugh!

  He enjoyed that reputation that he had. I knew him in a different way. I got off easy because I was not judged by him. We had this symbiotic relationship. I wasn’t a chef; therefore, I was never subjected to his evil eye. In fact, I would tease him. He’d be cooking something and I’d taste it. “Does anybody have any ketchup?” And he’d laaaaaugh. I’d tell him about things I’d made, and he’d say, “Good! Good!” He’d try to get me to make something else.

  Roland served Laura Bush when she was First Lady. She would take a yearly vacation with some of her female friends. One year, they chose the Yosemite High Sierra camps, and Roland was their chef. He’d travel ahead by a half day and cook for them. So many stories … he’ll tell you who was wonderful and who was a pain in the neck. If you asked him questions, he’d say, “Are you writing a book or working for the cops?”

  He lives to fish—absolutely loves it. He’s given up so much of his life for cooking and creating magical experiences for everyone else, but fishing is the one thing that will put a glimmer in his eye. His standard joke is: Wanted: A good woman with a boat. If interested, send a picture of the boat.

  SUSAN: What impressions did he leave with you?

  MARY: One of the gestures I recall … this was years ago, and it so impressed me. In the early years of knowing him, we had a group come to Buffalo—about ten chefs from Delaware North properties all over the country, doing an event, which Chef was leading. They prepared at the sports venue near the DN Headquarters. While he was in town, I got a couple of interviews going, including one with the local business paper. We wanted a group shot of all the chefs to use in our marketing material. One of the younger chefs came in and had forgotten his toque [chef hat]. We were feverishly trying to get one from our supply management. Nobody could find one just lying around. We couldn’t find one. Right before the photo was snapped, Roland took off his toque and handed it to the younger chef. He never said a word. That young chef suddenly appeared with a hat. We were able to Photoshop a toque on Roland, but the gesture was not lost on me. I don’t know if anybody even noticed it, except maybe him and the younger chef. For him to give up that hat—a symbol he had dedicated his life to earning and wearing—to someone who was so much younger, so much his junior. That’s how he is. It’s a side I don’t know if everybody sees. What a metaphor, I thought. A gracious, generous, and powerful gesture!

  Also … be true to who you are. He never lived with any regrets. He was who he was and made no apologies. It wasn’t always easy taking that road. He’s demanding with his protégés, but most of all, with himself. His stature is such that he didn’t have to fly all over the world and do the things he was doing. He could have an endowed chair at CIA. He could have been a celebrity chef. He could have easily done all of those things, but he loved to teach. I never heard him say, “Gee if I had to do it all over …” We often talked about gambling, because DN had a gambling division. I would say, “Ahh, wouldn’t that be nice—to win the lottery or hit it big at the slot machines.” Henin would reply, “You make your own luck.” He is a self-made man.

  His ability to give back is what fulfills him. He used to say, “The younger chefs … they’ll be here longer than me, and they’ll be better than me.” I don’t know if the latter is true, but he certainly taught as if it was. Shouldn’t that always be the ideal goal of the consummate teacher? To have your students be better. Because if you go into it saying, “You’ll never be what I am,” then from the get-go, you’re not giving it your all. He went with the feeling, whether he believed it or not, and I choose to believe he did: they can be better than me. So he gave them everything he had.

  I had the privilege of speaking with Chef Keller on the phone. He said, “So many chefs have that story about standing at grandmother’s knee or their mother’s knee. I don’t have that story, but Roland was that for me.” Roland is everything to him, but it’s a relationship that Roland will never abuse. As you can imagine, Roland is often hit up with, Oh could you get me a reservation for tomorrow night at the French Laundry? Sometimes he would say yes, and sometimes he would say no. It usually had to do with not so much the person who was asking, as much as how much of a burden that would be on his friend and if he would be comfortable asking. If he wasn’t, he would say no. A phone call from him would have resulted in the fulfillment of whatever request that was being asked on the other end, yet he just simply wouldn’t abuse his power.

  He said something, and I don’t think he realized how quotable it was. I was complaining to him, when we started to do those two books.

  “How come you chefs, all you do is cook, and you never have any recipes! Don’t you have a file of recipes that you pull from?” And then I found out that, no, nothing is written down.

  He says, and here’s that quote: “Cooking is an act of love. And you don’t measure out love.”

  Larry Johnson

  Executive Chef, Busch Stadium/St. Louis Cardinals

  If you don’t call him, he figures you’re a genius.

  LARRY: I was interviewing for the position of executive chef for the Balsams Grand Resort. The Balsams runs an ACF accredited Culinary School Apprenticeship program. Dan Hugelier, a Certified Master Chef and good friend of Chef Henin’s, recommended me. Driving up from New Hampshire was a four-hour drive. I thought I was lost, and then realized I still had an hour to go. What the heck am I getting into? I was a little late, getting sidetracked on how to enter the property. Once I got there, Chef Henin, as straightforward as always, says, “I’m glad you were able to join us. You got ten minutes to get ready for dinner.” Right away, I knew he meant business. We made dinner, and he was going through the whole Practical format, which he had sent to us twenty-four hours in advance.

  He looked at me and said, “Chef, you might want to breathe. It’s okay.”

  I was extremely uptight, and he asks, “Are you nervous?”

  I said, “Absolutely!” It’s not that I lack confidence, but I want to make sure I do well.

  “Okay, we’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast at 7:00 a.m., sharp.”

  That evening, I thought, Wow. This is not your regular Mystery Basket kind of stuff. We’re going back to the old days of truly going into a formatted kitchen. He is one of the most classical chefs I know. The joke in the industry is—it’s not a joke, but an admiration of—are you working with Chef Henin? You better have your butcher skills in check.

  We meet up for breakfast, and Chef says, “Are you hungry?”

  “No, Chef. I’m good.”

  “You gotta eat. You need your energy.” Then he asks, “How did you sleep?”

  “Did not, Chef.”

  “Good. Then you’re ready for it.”

  We got into the Practical format. The Practical would complete around noon, and my flight left at 4:00 p.m. The distance to the airport was three and a half hours. I was rattled toward the tail end and mentioned to Chef that I had to leave a little early.

  “Well, you should do more!”

  “Chef, I’m more concerned about making that flight.” He didn’t know what time my flight was; he just thought I wanted to leave early. Even though I did everything I was asked to do, of course I could have done more.

  He said, “I know y
ou won’t be able to present it, but at least do all of your courses. Wish you well and safe travels.”

  This was a working Practical where you cook for a kitchen judge (Chef Henin) and four tasters, typically: General Manager; Food & Beverage Director; Catering Director; and Director of Operations. That is the standard now, for DN: all salaried sous-chefs and executive chefs go through this, like certification, except that you have a Mystery Basket. You create similarly to the ProChef or CSC tests. It follows the ACF outline: you have thirty minutes to set up your station; you have X amount of proteins presented to you; after 1 hour, those proteins go away, and you may not go back and grab any of the former proteins. All the proteins that you select must be used. You have one commis who is not allowed to do any knife skills, cutting, or cooking; he or she is basically there for washing and menial tasks.

  It’s pretty intense. I did a Practical during my apprenticeship and thought, My God, we’re back to square one, here! It was great. Anyone who had done a certification Practical feels comfortable, and that’s what I love about what Chef has done. It’s not this whole foo-foo confusing thing where you set up candidates to fail. He gives you all of the tools and information and says, “Call me if you have any questions.” If you don’t call him, he figures you’re a genius.

  SUSAN: Was Chef intimidating?

  LARRY: His stature is such that, if your cooking skills are subpar, then yes, he can be extremely intimidating. If you think your cooking skills are better than his, then you’re kidding yourself. The goal should be that you want to become as good as he is. From the day I met him until today, the common thread has never changed. I admire that consistency in the relationship. You’re not trying to feel these highs and lows: Oh my God; what is he thinking now? He’s pretty straightforward and classical: Use your head. Just because you learn something in the classroom doesn’t mean that’s all there is. There is more behind it. That is what we always refer to as “the width of knowledge.” Wisdom is width of knowledge, over time. Knowledge is what we’ve learned: today, yesterday, and tomorrow. But, the wisdom is what you learn about the knowledge, over time: what has succeeded and what has failed, all meshed together.