Our Proprietor
David and Karen Waltuck
"A Behind-the-Scenes visit with David and Karen at their acclaimed New York Restaurant- Chanterelle"
Portions of this article have been reproduced from Magazine, written by Irene Sax.
In 1979 David and Karen Waltuck, then in their early twenties, opened a small, spare, serious French restaurant in what was then the brand-new artists' quarter of SoHo. Ever since, artists, gallery owners, stockbrokers, and food lovers have gone there, attracted by David's' classic but intensely personal cooking and Karen's' serene, attentive service.
Reservations were so hard to come by in the late eighties that those in the know called at midnight, when phone lines were free. Restaurant madness has cooled since then, but Chanterelle remains popular, surviving a move to larger quarters in TriBeCa in 1989 and helped by the four stars it got from the New York Times critic Ruth Reichel.
In a city that worships novelty, the Waltucks seem to have found the secret of longevity in a restaurant where nothing is quite as simple as it seems.
Take the decor. Housed in a corner of what was once the Mercantile Exchange, the dining room looks as though the couple just painted the walls and moved in. In fact, everything from the ornate tin ceiling to the mile-high cherrywood pillars is new, created by the set and costume designer Bill Katz, who also designed the first Chanterelle.
Take the service. There are no obvious captains and, except for Karen and the sommelier Roger Dagorn, the staff all wear button-down shirts, chef's pants, and aprons. But in this plain bistro garb, they are among the most serious and attentive waiters in the city.
"We wanted service that was absolutely perfect, neither their obsequious nor condescending," states Karen. "New York is outside and tough. Come to our house for great food and great service. We don't care if you're wearing a sweater or a Chanel suit. While you're hear, we'll take care of you."
And take the food. Firmly based on classic French techniques, its hallmarks are surprising and complex tastes hidden beneath a simple surface. "You taste one thing, and then you taste something else going on under it, and sometimes something else under that."
Both menu and individual dishes change all the time, driven by some personal vision, not by fashion. The changes can be seasonal, as when wintry potato and truffle-filled ravioli give way to Ravioli of Spring Greens. They can be inspirations: "The Ginger-Pickled Salmon was invented," said David, "because I used to pickle vegetables as a garnish for a terrine. I had the liquid and wondered what else I could do with it." Or they can be variations on a theme: the Beef Tenderloin with Morels in this spring menu is one of several takes on red-meat-with-wild-mushrooms.
"David's most interesting dishes happen when he pairs foods that haven't been combined before, like oysters and white truffles," says Karen. "When you taste them, the combination tells you more about each part than you knew before."
Every month, the Waltucks change the menu together, leaving on only the seafood sausage that has become something of a signature dish. "The balance of the menu is important, says David. "It's critical that most of the appetizers work with most of the entrees, that there's a balance of tastes, that it doesn't seem all over the place - like going to Morocco and Japan and China and Sweden on the same trip." Although David has the final word on food, Karen may tell him customers have been asking for more composed salads or wondering when sweetbreads would be back.
Perhaps the most striking contrast between surface and reality at Chanterelle is the fact that this young, hip, totally downtown couple has taken on the traditional restaurant roles of Monsieur in the kitchen and Madame in the front of the house.
"It's an old - fashioned thing, but it made sense for us, said Karen. "He's quiet. I'm gregarious. He's a fabulous cook, and I'm not."
Of course, they're not the traditional Monsieur and Madame. ( For a start, they're too young and too thin.) He - thoughtful and reserved - was trained as an oceanographer. She - impish, granny-glassed, bubbling with fun - studied anthropology, then worked as a fashion coordinator for a boutique. They met in high school, lost touch, and met again after college when, like many of their generation, they had traveled, eaten in countless restaurants, and became obsessed with food.
At a time when chefs' schools was becoming a respectable alternative to law school, David went to the Culinary Institute of America, then dropped out to be with Karen in New York and work as lunch chef at La Petite Ferme. Since his workday ended early, he spent the afternoons cooking "elaborate dinners for 8 or 10," Karen recalls, "Afterwards, we would all lie on the floor and moan."
During those afternoons he was refining the dishes he'd make when they opened their own restaurant. "I was trying out a lot of things that developed into what I do now."
They borrowed money and found space they could afford in an excorset factory in SoHo. Looking for a name with French associations they chose "chanterelle," English for the French girolle mushroom.
From the start they were supported by local artists such as Louise Nevelson, Cy Twombly, Keith Haring, and Robert Mapplethorpe. Also from the start they had and equal partnership. He runs the kitchen. She oversees the waitstaff, arranges the flowers, and has at times ordered the wine, kept the books and even vacuumed.
"We always knew we wanted to work together, Karen says..."We talk over everything. We cover for each other. If I see the kitchen is going to be jammed, I'll go to a table and offer them an inter-mezzo course to slow things down."
She's so devoted to the restaurant that she almost had a baby there. One night at 11 - with customers still eating - she went into labor, lay down on the office sofa, and left for the hospital at midnight to give birth to Sara, now almost six.
Having Sara and, two years later, Jake, both complicated and enriched their lives. "Is my life different? It's infinitely better. Is it busier? I used to have no free time, and I still have no free time."
The working partnership extends to their home life, which is as tightly scheduled as that of the investment banker couples, who dine at the restaurant. Up at six, they get the children off to school. On Tuesday's, Karen goes to the flower market, then arranges the flowers for the week; the other days she attends to business while David is in the kitchen. At three, Sara is picked up at school and taken home, to a friend's house, or to Chanterelle to spend time "cooking" with her father. By five, both children are back home and the Waltucks dit down to a simple dinner with their restaurant family.
At six, the first guest arrive. Coats are taken and menus offered. Dagorn goes to the table with the wine list under his arm. Downstairs, the kitchen staff clear their throats like actors waiting for the curtain to go up.
Another night begins, one more in a chain of 15 years. How, we wonder, have they managed not only to survive but to improve?
"We did it one day at a time," says Karen. "We stayed true to ourselves. And we tried always to have laughter in the kitchen."
