Global Trotter
It's about a 10-minute cab ride from Chicago's skyscrapers to Charlie Trotter's brownstone. The Lincoln Park neighbourhood has gone through some changes recently, and the road to the USA's top chef is now lined with chi-chi boutiques and million-dollar homes.
"We wouldn't have been able to afford to open here today," says Trotter, shaking his head. He's talking, of course, about 12 years ago when he first opened with a loan from his parents and little cooking experience. But not now - definitely not now. Trotter is rumoured to have made $5m (£3.3m) last year, and he'll probably make even more this year with the plans he has.
For those who haven't made it to West Armitage, or haven't caught up with Trotter's copious cookery books - six, at the last count - here's a little taster of his now legendary culinary pyrotechnics.
First, accolades, of which there are too many to mention. Two humdingers, though, are last year's Outstanding Chef of the Year, as decreed by the James Beard Foundation, and Wine Spectator's announcement that Charlie Trotter's is the Best Restaurant in the World for Wine and Food (1998).
How has he done it? By creating a style of food and service that sets him apart from the rest.
His food is hard to describe, so it's best left to Trotter himself. "It's rooted in western European tradition, but there is an Asian minimalist aesthetic to what we do." There's no butter or heavy sauces, and Trotter prefers vegetable-based vinaigrettes, purées, delicate broths and herb-infused meat and fish "essences". Produce is "pristine" and naturally raised. Most raw products are American - foie gras from Sonoma, California, line-caught seafood from Maine, venison from upstate New York, heirloom tomatoes from Illinois, wild boar from Texas.
Trotter's food is full of surprises - one minute you're in Japan (grilled hamachi with crosnes, fennel and shellfish emulsion), the next in Italy (trio of risotto: braised endive and rutabaga, pearl onions and red wine, Amish blue and Anjou pear, served with a black olive sauce). Then you're somewhere else entirely (terrine of watermelon, radish and chives). Somewhere that doesn't exist, except in Trotter's ordered, rather surreal, mind.
What direction does his food take now? "It's lighter and cleaner, and there are more Asian influences," he says. He's never actually been to the Orient, but says that doesn't matter. And he has one of the best Thai restaurants in the USA, Arun, right on his doorstep.
"The important thing is that what is served is coherent, has a point of view, and is original," he says, "and that it can be appreciated by the connoisseur and lay diner alike. It has to work for both groups of people."
But can't his food be daunting for some people? "Yes, sometimes. The ingredients can be esoteric, so we are vague in the way we describe them to people. I want customers to think of it as a transcendent experience. I want it all to add up to more than the sum of its parts."
A kindred spirit is the now-retired, Swiss three-Michelin-starred chef, Fredy Girardet. "He comes closest," says Trotter. "It's his approach to things." What exactly? "It was his mindset that inspired me."
Trotter believes national and ethnic boundaries are disappearing. "We're now moving into personal cuisines," he says. "Like the fashion world, with Armani and Lauren, now it's [Ferran] Adria cuisine, and [Gordon] Ramsay cuisine."
Much has been written about Trotter's famous control. He does seem remarkably composed - and surprisingly impish. He has a small, pursed mouth, boyish voice, shirt buttons that fasten all the way to the top, and he's smaller than you expect - about 5ft 8in. He's fit, too (he runs marathons).
Is he really that controlled? "It's absolutely true," says Trotter. "I like calm. I like to be in control. In some cases I'm super-precise, other times I'm deliberately vague, just to see what people can do. I like to let the line out with people."
His control extends to his equally pristine kitchen. With 24 chefs on the payroll, and kitchen clatter aside, there's hardly a sound. Just as well. There's a chef's table, seating up to six, that is booked up months in advance. And there are kitchen tours pre- and post-dinner.
The tours are part of Trotter's vision of perfection. "Everyone comes here with lofty expectations, and it's up to us to see that we exceed those expectations - not merely meet them," he says. "There are so many intangibles at play - a kitchen tour, an extra course, or a small gift at the end of the meal."
I got a Charlie Trotter baseball cap. "There are 250 little touches that can exist on a daily basis," he continues. "I think of it as a whole package. Food is not the most important part of the dining experience."
Trotter admits he sometimes finds customers' expectations scary. "You see them sitting there with their arms crossed, saying ‘We heard this was the best restaurant in America - show us what you can do.' It's a great responsibility."
Does it ever stifle creativity? "We change the menu incessantly, and we don't have signature dishes. A dish takes on many forms. It evolves. I'm not interested in creating it for its own sake. I'm interested in the variation on a theme. You have to make sure what you're doing remains lively and vital, and doing the same thing over and over again rarely accomplishes that."
There's a jazz score in there somewhere, and it turns out that this is another Trotter obsession. The shelves in Trotter's comfortable office are stacked high with jazz CDs. There's Ray Charles, Buddy Guy and Miles Davis - Trotter's dad was once a jazz trumpeter.
The meals are served in several tiny courses, often as many as six or eight, so customers can experience a wide range of flavours. Trotter used to serve 200 covers a night, but now he has a ceiling of 150, with 90 seats. "I'm trying to depress that even more, but I have to find the revenue," he laughs, while conceding that his books, television work and consulting all help.
At the moment, there are three set menus - the Grand Menu, at $110 (£71.62), the Vegetable Menu, at $90 (£58.60), and the Kitchen Table Menu, at $150 (£97.66). The pyrotechnics get more impressive as each course goes on. Just when you think you've had it, along comes a palate reviver - such as the warm Meyer lemon soup with mango and Earl Grey tea sorbets - to kick-start the rest of the evening, making desserts a breeze. "I don't want guests walking out of the restaurant feeling overindulged," says Trotter. "I want them to feel stimulated and alert, and looking forward to breakfast the following morning."
The schoolchildren in the private dining room downstairs are looking extremely stimulated and alert. This is Trotter's latest philanthropic gesture: every Wednesday and Thursday at 5pm, a busload of 15-year-olds roll up for dinner. Accompanied by four wide-eyed teachers, the kids get a kitchen and cellar tour, a talk from the man himself, an educational video starring Trotter, and then the full Trotter menu.
"Thank God they're not old enough to drink wine," he says. The offer is costing him about $50,000 (£32,554) a year. Why do it? "We can afford it. There's no fun in wealth and luxury if it's not accessible to others. Our objective, from day one, was to make a three-tiered contribution to society. The first is about aesthetics - the beauty of the dining experience. The second is to make a cultural contribution to improve the city in the same way that the opera, a museum or a hotel can. Why not a great restaurant? The third is a social contribution. If we are successful as a business, we can take some of that profit and do some good."
Hence the school dinners, the newly formed Charlie Trotter Education Foundation, with scholarships for the taking, plus a few more charitable causes.
Anyway, he's sure to replenish his coffers with Trotters To Go, which launched in March. "We've scaled it down to take-out food," he says. But what a take-out - spit-roasted game birds, marinated noodles, superior salads and the like. There's a separate kitchen, currently being built, a mile-and-a-half from the restaurant.
At last, a chink in the Trotter armour. He works the floor with a diplomat's smile, meeting the adulation with a brief pleasantry. But when there is no sign of the customers' questions abating, he chews a nail and glances back nervously at the kitchen.
He has a last message for Britain, though. "You're still so conservative. You think you have this major revolution going on - but you don't. What's happening in the US is considerably more interesting." n
See Drinks news, page 68, for details of wine list
