Gael Greene

Gael Greene reveals her inner conflict over judging Jonathan Waxman.

on Jul 22, 2009

As soon as we got the morning call sheets for Surprise in a Box, I began to obsess. One of the competing Top Chef Masters would be Jonathan Waxman. I’ve known Jonathan since he came to New York bringing a breath of the West Coast – cool white walls, a collection of bright abstract paintings and his own special style of minimalism on the plate to Jams on West 79th Street. He stood out from so many local chefs, straining to outdo each other with nouvelle cuisine by using French technique but with a Californian passion for ingredients, rarely more than three or four of them on a plate. Grilled or roasted fish in a puddle of beurre blanc, perfect chicken under a haystack of fries. (Indeed, those addictive fries set off a new passion for potatoes in New York that has never ceased)

And it was meeting Jonathan and Chef Larry Forgione (An American Place) at Wolfgang Puck’s first Meals on Wheels benefit in the parking lot at the old Spago that led to the two chefs founding role in our own first Citymeals on Wheels fund-raiser honoring James Beard in the Garden and restaurants of Rockefeller Center – an event that both chefs continue to grace with their presence even now in our 25th year.

Of course I wondered if Jonathan might choose Citymeals as his charity. Nothing was said or even hinted. But as the board chair and co-founder of Citymeals-on-Wheels I had something to gain and much to lose. I worried that my judging might be influenced by my admiration and affection for him. Or the reality of just how much the final $100,000 prize might mean to our goal of bringing weekend, holiday and emergency meals to the city’s 17,500 homebound elderly in a year when we had lost  many donors, including a most generous foundation and a major corporate benefactor.

I had recently been to a product launch in Art Smith’s house in Chicago and we’d met before but only for minutes and I knew him as Oprah’s chef. I would not have called him a master, but rather a homey Southern cook, as he styled himself. Of course I was aware of Roy Yamaguchi’s extraordinary success as the owner of 37 restaurants but I had never reviewed his spot in Manhattan. And I knew nothing about Michael Cimarusti.