No, that’s not him above.
But Chef Guillaume Bienaime does bear more than a passing resemblance to the Alfredo Linguine character from the movie, “Ratatouille,” especially with the glasses drawn on. You have to love a chef with the playfulness to keep a Pez dispenser like this on a shelf in his bustling professional kitchen.
Below is the real Bienaime, executive chef of Marche restaurant in Menlo Park. And believe me, he doesn’t need a cute talking rat named Remi or anyone else to help him do his job. This 27-year-old chef is a talent, and a giving one at that. Last Sunday, on what was supposed to be his day off when the restaurant is normally closed, he decided instead to teach his first cooking class.
Marche opened its doors that morning to 16 eager students — most of them regular diners at the restaurant — as well as yours truly and the chef’s Mom to partake in what was the first of four seasonal cooking classes planned annually. And believe me, you will not leave hungry from this $105 class.
We met up with the chef at the nearby Menlo Park farmers market to help gather peppers, corn, peaches, squash, and tomatoes for the dishes we would cook back at the restaurant.
Marche gets all its tomatoes from Baia Nicchia Farm in Sunol, which sells at the Sunday farmers market. Owner Fred Hempel, a geneticist, owns 9 1/2 acres where he grows 30 types of tomatoes, half of them varieties he has created, himself. Indeed, Chef Bienaime is working with Hempel to create a signature “Marche” tomato, resulting from cross-breeding a couple varieties together. It will take two years of tinkering before the tomato will be ready to be grown for the restaurant.
We carried the provisions back to the restaurant, where we divided up into teams of two or three. The chef explained the dishes we could be cooking that day: Roast Pork Loin a` la Provencal, Summer Squash a` la Grecque, Confit Tomatoes, Summer Corn “Polenta,” Piperade Basquaise, Gratin of Swiss Chard, and Plum & Peach Shortcake.
Chef Bienaime, though, had a special plan for my buddy, Carissa, and I. He was going to have us make Escargots Sommiroise, a traditional dish from Saint-Guilhem Desert in the Langueduoc region, which is snail country. Neither Carissa nor I had ever cooked with snails before, so we were eager to give it a go.
We all donned aprons and set to work in the restaurant’s gleaming stainless steel kitchen, grabbing knives, chinoises, copper pots, and food processors. And no, we didn’t escape doing dishes. But we didn’t mind, what with the restaurant’s nifty machine at our disposal. You rinsed off the dishes, piled them into a rack, and slid it all into the machine, where everything would emerge spotless in just three minutes. Why can’t we have one of these at home, we all thought!
At Marche, the garlic is almost always grated into dishes, using a Micrcoplane, rather than chopped or sliced with a knife. Bienaime says he likes how the garlic disappears into a dish this way. Skin on bell peppers is always peeled off, too, even if they are not roasted. The chef does this, he says, because he finds that the peppers are more easily digested this way.
All through the kitchen, students worked at shucking corn; peeling tomatoes; blanching herbs; sauteing chanterelles; and slicing open large pork loins to fill with a spread of grainy mustard, anchovy, garlic, rosemary and thyme.
Now and then in the close quarters, someone would call out “Behind you, behind you — hot, hot, hot!” as a simmering pot was ferried from the stove to a counter. There’s major heat generated in a professional kitchen when all the burners and ovens are turned up. So much so, that we all breathed a sigh of relief whenever we had to make a trip to the chilly walk-in to grab an ingredient.
It wasn’t long before the aromas of roasting pork, toasted nuts, and sauteed garlic were making us very, very hungry.
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