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Chef David Santos Hosts Pop-Up Ramen Dinner

Chef David Santos Hosts Pop-Up Ramen Dinner

Acclaimed New York chef David Santos gave a pop-up ramen dinner at his restaurant, Louro

Chef Santos’ Duck, Duck, Goose ramen was savory and tender at his Ramen pop-up dinner at New York’s Louro restaurant.

As part of his ongoing dinner series, chef David Santos hosted a ramen pop-up dinner at his restaurant, Louro, in New York’s West Village on Monday, September 22. There were seatings every hour on the hour between 6 and 10 p.m., and the menu consisted of six amazingly flavorful courses.

To begin the evening, guests were treated to an amuse-bouche of fried baby Spanish mackerel with lemon and smoked paprika aioli, followed by a second course of Hamachi crudo with pickled pluots, lemon verbena, and puffed grains. Hamachi crudo has been popping up on many menus around the city of late, but you will be hard-pressed to find one that’s more delicately treated and presented than Santos’. Next came chilled mazamen, a soupless ramen with kimchi, miso, enoki, and crispy pork belly; the fourth course served as a ramen respite: lobster chawanmushi was a savory custard-like dish with shiso and pickled Hawaiian ginger. The final savory dish was Santos’ “Duck, Duck, Goose” ramen, a hot bowl of appropriately salty goose broth with duck confit, roasted duck breast, scallion, and plum sauce. Dessert was a beignet accompanied by five-spice pear compote, and the dish proved a delightfully airy and palate-cleansing finish to the meal. All of the chef’s Monday night pop-up dinners are BYOB, though diners are welcomed to order from the well-stocked bar, separate from the special prix-fixe menu.

“We try to treat Mondays as a time to explore,” said Santos. The decision to hold the dinners on Monday nights — a notoriously slow evening for restaurants in the city — came from a desire to “reverse the roles and give [diners] something to look forward to.” It’s safe to say: mission accomplished.

Kate Kolenda is the Restaurant/City Guide Editor at The Daily Meal. Follow her on Twitter @BeefWerky and @theconversant.


The Moment of Youth

10/18/16 By Joshua David Stein

Slender fingers adeptly cradling a pair of offset tweezers, 17-year-old chef Flynn McGarry placed a sliver of pickled black radish on a small glass plate already laden with myriad radishes. &ldquoI&rsquove tested this dish 10 times now,&rdquo McGarry says, &ldquoI feel like it can&rsquot just be a radish dish. Maybe it needs scallops.&rdquo McGarry is opening his first permanent New York City restaurant, an eight-seat tasting menu counter in the back of Kava, a Meatpacking District coffee shop. Like last year&rsquos pop-up that ran for six months out of a Manhattan catering company, this one will also be called Eureka.

The name could be a nod to the state motto of California&mdashMcGarry hails from the San Fernando Valley&mdashbut it probably has more to do with Archimedes and his sudden stroke of bathtub genius. If that&rsquos the case, what a funny title. McGarry, who began cooking at age 10 and appeared on the cover of the New York Times magazine at age 15, is indisputably a prodigy. In fact, that was the one-word headline of the 2012 New Yorker piece about him.

But, as Andrew Solomon notes in his book, Far from the Tree, there is a vast difference between prodigy and genius. &ldquoThe designation prodigy usually reflects timing, while genius reflects the ability to add something of value to human consciousness.&rdquo Or, as the French poet Raymond Radiguet, himself a child prodigy, put it even more puckishly, &ldquoChild prodigies exist just as there are extraordinary men. But they are rarely the same.&rdquo

With his first restaurant, an open-ended engagement with the city&rsquos notoriously unforgiving dining scene, McGarry is striving to leave the ranks of prodigy and join the brotherhood of extraordinary men. &ldquoIt&rsquos been so many years of just straight talking about the age,&rdquo he says, not without exasperation. &ldquoSure, the age might get people in the door, but it&rsquos not enough to make the restaurant sustainable, obviously.&rdquo

And so, he turns to the radish, one of the 16 courses a diner will be served for $160, gratuity included. In his callow youth, McGarry was liable to turn radishes into a pixel of a larger overwrought plate&mdashthe Times mentions ember-roasted carrot gelée with smoked egg yolk, compressed mango, pickled mustard seeds and coffee-pickled carrots. Of late, he has discovered the joy of simplicity. &ldquoThroughout the years, my cooking has gotten a lot more simple. At first, you have that whole thing of wanting to show every single thing you know,&rdquo he admits, &ldquonow, it&rsquos become more mature. There&rsquos not so much flash and bang.&rdquo

As a writer in my thirties, it&rsquos tempting to turn every otherwise normal utterance from McGarry into fodder for a sort of moralistic and paternalistic dig against youth. And, surely, many have succumbed to the temptation. Not a piece has been written that hasn&rsquot used his tender age as ridiculed ballast against his modernist technique. And, sure, when McGarry announces he&rsquoll be moving from Prospect Heights, where he lives now, to the Meatpacking District with a world-weary sigh&mdash&ldquoI just can&rsquot do the commute anymore,&rdquo he says, &ldquoit&rsquos 35 minutes each way&rdquo&mdashit&rsquos hard not to roll one&rsquos eyes. But then he lays out his schedule: Monday, 6 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday, 7 a.m. to 2:30 a.m. Sunday, 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. The guy deserves to be taken seriously.

If his food falls flat, well then he is not unlike hundreds of other chefs in the city who have tried to accomplish what he&rsquos up to at Eureka. And if his food soars, it shall do so independent of the dendrochronology of the sapling in question.

McGarry, about whom so many words have been written, is neither naive nor jaded. He is, rather, both boyishly enthusiastic and slightly guarded. For every feint, every query about how it is indeed possible for a youth so green to sound through food emotions so profound&mdashfor that is truly what makes $160 an unlaughable sum for dinner&mdashMcGarry has a ready parry. Dismissing the paucity of his life experience as a wellspring for his menu, he says, &ldquoCooking is an art form, and as an art form, it comes from a place you can&rsquot explain.&rdquo

And he has a point. There are many older chefs who have not yet located the aquifer that connects life experience with culinary expression. Samely, there is no reason a youth like McGarry couldn&rsquot have happened upon those reservoirs at an earlier point in his life than most.

In fact, the majority of the young chef&rsquos life experience has been culinary experience, making the Venn Diagram of Kitchen Life and Life Life particularly oblong. After his initial well-chronicled experiments at age 10, he has since worked at Alma in Los Angeles and staged throughout Europe. This is, of course, in addition to running his occasional pop-up and running interference from constant critique.

On McGarry&rsquos last trip back east, he was the subject of some quite ugly and revealing criticism from a grisled cohort who objected to his using the word chef. &ldquoChef is something you earn through years of being beaten and shit on and taught by some of the greats,&rdquo wrote chef David Santos in an Instagram screed. The statement is at once largely true and profoundly ignorant, and the extent to which it is true belies the ignorance that toxifies the restaurant industry like algal bloom. McGarry has been savaged by the press, most notably the New York Post&rsquos resident curmudgeon, Steve Cuozzo, at whose mention the chef shudders slightly.

McGarry, who was rather severely bullied at school, has built compensatory defenses. That&rsquos one reason, he says, for the tasting menu format. &ldquoI know people are going to come in here with their own prejudices and search for things to hate,&rdquo he tells me, &ldquoso if I can control the menu, then at least I can make sure I&rsquom giving them the best experience I can.&rdquo

And if one allows for homeschool, unschool and Waldorf pedagogy, the kitchen, too, has proven fertile ground for education. Through Eureka, McGarry is hitting nearly all of Howard Gardner&rsquos multiple intelligences. For instance, learning the ins and outs of New York Labor Law. &ldquoIt&rsquos a lot easier to own a business as a minor than it is to be employed by one,&rdquo he says. He&rsquos also mastered food costs and payroll. &ldquoBefore it was just sort of end of the day, I would be like, &lsquoOh great, we have money left,&rsquo or like, &lsquoWe didn't make any money.&rsquo But now we&rsquore running a business.&rdquo

On the interpersonal tip, he&rsquos learned how to read a room. &ldquoSo much of this is in the physical experience,&rdquo he says, &ldquoand every night changes, because when it's such a small group, it really depends on everyone's attitude and the vibe.&rdquo And, scrolling through a playlist which transitions from Brandy&rsquos &ldquoTalk About Our Love&rdquo to Tame Impala&rsquos &ldquoKeep On Lying&rdquo to G-Unit&rsquos &ldquoWanna Get to Know You,&rdquo McGarry shows a preternatural inclination for cultural sonic juxtaposition.

All this may or may not matter when Eureka opens its doors. Backstories are priceless, but dinner is expensive. The only persuasive counterclaim McGarry can present&mdashthat he belongs not among the prodigies but among the league of extraordinary men&mdashwill be presented on this counter to 16 guests, five nights a week. And so as he gazes into a now mostly empty dish where radishes once were, peering into his reflection in the shimmering pho broth at the bottom he made with radish and porcini mushrooms, he sighs. &ldquoI'm going to be here very late today testing,&rdquo he says. &ldquoIt&rsquos not there yet. But it&rsquoll get there soon. It has to.&rdquo

Watch McGarry cook live from our Test Kitchen in NYC here.


The Moment of Youth

10/18/16 By Joshua David Stein

Slender fingers adeptly cradling a pair of offset tweezers, 17-year-old chef Flynn McGarry placed a sliver of pickled black radish on a small glass plate already laden with myriad radishes. &ldquoI&rsquove tested this dish 10 times now,&rdquo McGarry says, &ldquoI feel like it can&rsquot just be a radish dish. Maybe it needs scallops.&rdquo McGarry is opening his first permanent New York City restaurant, an eight-seat tasting menu counter in the back of Kava, a Meatpacking District coffee shop. Like last year&rsquos pop-up that ran for six months out of a Manhattan catering company, this one will also be called Eureka.

The name could be a nod to the state motto of California&mdashMcGarry hails from the San Fernando Valley&mdashbut it probably has more to do with Archimedes and his sudden stroke of bathtub genius. If that&rsquos the case, what a funny title. McGarry, who began cooking at age 10 and appeared on the cover of the New York Times magazine at age 15, is indisputably a prodigy. In fact, that was the one-word headline of the 2012 New Yorker piece about him.

But, as Andrew Solomon notes in his book, Far from the Tree, there is a vast difference between prodigy and genius. &ldquoThe designation prodigy usually reflects timing, while genius reflects the ability to add something of value to human consciousness.&rdquo Or, as the French poet Raymond Radiguet, himself a child prodigy, put it even more puckishly, &ldquoChild prodigies exist just as there are extraordinary men. But they are rarely the same.&rdquo

With his first restaurant, an open-ended engagement with the city&rsquos notoriously unforgiving dining scene, McGarry is striving to leave the ranks of prodigy and join the brotherhood of extraordinary men. &ldquoIt&rsquos been so many years of just straight talking about the age,&rdquo he says, not without exasperation. &ldquoSure, the age might get people in the door, but it&rsquos not enough to make the restaurant sustainable, obviously.&rdquo

And so, he turns to the radish, one of the 16 courses a diner will be served for $160, gratuity included. In his callow youth, McGarry was liable to turn radishes into a pixel of a larger overwrought plate&mdashthe Times mentions ember-roasted carrot gelée with smoked egg yolk, compressed mango, pickled mustard seeds and coffee-pickled carrots. Of late, he has discovered the joy of simplicity. &ldquoThroughout the years, my cooking has gotten a lot more simple. At first, you have that whole thing of wanting to show every single thing you know,&rdquo he admits, &ldquonow, it&rsquos become more mature. There&rsquos not so much flash and bang.&rdquo

As a writer in my thirties, it&rsquos tempting to turn every otherwise normal utterance from McGarry into fodder for a sort of moralistic and paternalistic dig against youth. And, surely, many have succumbed to the temptation. Not a piece has been written that hasn&rsquot used his tender age as ridiculed ballast against his modernist technique. And, sure, when McGarry announces he&rsquoll be moving from Prospect Heights, where he lives now, to the Meatpacking District with a world-weary sigh&mdash&ldquoI just can&rsquot do the commute anymore,&rdquo he says, &ldquoit&rsquos 35 minutes each way&rdquo&mdashit&rsquos hard not to roll one&rsquos eyes. But then he lays out his schedule: Monday, 6 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday, 7 a.m. to 2:30 a.m. Sunday, 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. The guy deserves to be taken seriously.

If his food falls flat, well then he is not unlike hundreds of other chefs in the city who have tried to accomplish what he&rsquos up to at Eureka. And if his food soars, it shall do so independent of the dendrochronology of the sapling in question.

McGarry, about whom so many words have been written, is neither naive nor jaded. He is, rather, both boyishly enthusiastic and slightly guarded. For every feint, every query about how it is indeed possible for a youth so green to sound through food emotions so profound&mdashfor that is truly what makes $160 an unlaughable sum for dinner&mdashMcGarry has a ready parry. Dismissing the paucity of his life experience as a wellspring for his menu, he says, &ldquoCooking is an art form, and as an art form, it comes from a place you can&rsquot explain.&rdquo

And he has a point. There are many older chefs who have not yet located the aquifer that connects life experience with culinary expression. Samely, there is no reason a youth like McGarry couldn&rsquot have happened upon those reservoirs at an earlier point in his life than most.

In fact, the majority of the young chef&rsquos life experience has been culinary experience, making the Venn Diagram of Kitchen Life and Life Life particularly oblong. After his initial well-chronicled experiments at age 10, he has since worked at Alma in Los Angeles and staged throughout Europe. This is, of course, in addition to running his occasional pop-up and running interference from constant critique.

On McGarry&rsquos last trip back east, he was the subject of some quite ugly and revealing criticism from a grisled cohort who objected to his using the word chef. &ldquoChef is something you earn through years of being beaten and shit on and taught by some of the greats,&rdquo wrote chef David Santos in an Instagram screed. The statement is at once largely true and profoundly ignorant, and the extent to which it is true belies the ignorance that toxifies the restaurant industry like algal bloom. McGarry has been savaged by the press, most notably the New York Post&rsquos resident curmudgeon, Steve Cuozzo, at whose mention the chef shudders slightly.

McGarry, who was rather severely bullied at school, has built compensatory defenses. That&rsquos one reason, he says, for the tasting menu format. &ldquoI know people are going to come in here with their own prejudices and search for things to hate,&rdquo he tells me, &ldquoso if I can control the menu, then at least I can make sure I&rsquom giving them the best experience I can.&rdquo

And if one allows for homeschool, unschool and Waldorf pedagogy, the kitchen, too, has proven fertile ground for education. Through Eureka, McGarry is hitting nearly all of Howard Gardner&rsquos multiple intelligences. For instance, learning the ins and outs of New York Labor Law. &ldquoIt&rsquos a lot easier to own a business as a minor than it is to be employed by one,&rdquo he says. He&rsquos also mastered food costs and payroll. &ldquoBefore it was just sort of end of the day, I would be like, &lsquoOh great, we have money left,&rsquo or like, &lsquoWe didn't make any money.&rsquo But now we&rsquore running a business.&rdquo

On the interpersonal tip, he&rsquos learned how to read a room. &ldquoSo much of this is in the physical experience,&rdquo he says, &ldquoand every night changes, because when it's such a small group, it really depends on everyone's attitude and the vibe.&rdquo And, scrolling through a playlist which transitions from Brandy&rsquos &ldquoTalk About Our Love&rdquo to Tame Impala&rsquos &ldquoKeep On Lying&rdquo to G-Unit&rsquos &ldquoWanna Get to Know You,&rdquo McGarry shows a preternatural inclination for cultural sonic juxtaposition.

All this may or may not matter when Eureka opens its doors. Backstories are priceless, but dinner is expensive. The only persuasive counterclaim McGarry can present&mdashthat he belongs not among the prodigies but among the league of extraordinary men&mdashwill be presented on this counter to 16 guests, five nights a week. And so as he gazes into a now mostly empty dish where radishes once were, peering into his reflection in the shimmering pho broth at the bottom he made with radish and porcini mushrooms, he sighs. &ldquoI'm going to be here very late today testing,&rdquo he says. &ldquoIt&rsquos not there yet. But it&rsquoll get there soon. It has to.&rdquo

Watch McGarry cook live from our Test Kitchen in NYC here.


The Moment of Youth

10/18/16 By Joshua David Stein

Slender fingers adeptly cradling a pair of offset tweezers, 17-year-old chef Flynn McGarry placed a sliver of pickled black radish on a small glass plate already laden with myriad radishes. &ldquoI&rsquove tested this dish 10 times now,&rdquo McGarry says, &ldquoI feel like it can&rsquot just be a radish dish. Maybe it needs scallops.&rdquo McGarry is opening his first permanent New York City restaurant, an eight-seat tasting menu counter in the back of Kava, a Meatpacking District coffee shop. Like last year&rsquos pop-up that ran for six months out of a Manhattan catering company, this one will also be called Eureka.

The name could be a nod to the state motto of California&mdashMcGarry hails from the San Fernando Valley&mdashbut it probably has more to do with Archimedes and his sudden stroke of bathtub genius. If that&rsquos the case, what a funny title. McGarry, who began cooking at age 10 and appeared on the cover of the New York Times magazine at age 15, is indisputably a prodigy. In fact, that was the one-word headline of the 2012 New Yorker piece about him.

But, as Andrew Solomon notes in his book, Far from the Tree, there is a vast difference between prodigy and genius. &ldquoThe designation prodigy usually reflects timing, while genius reflects the ability to add something of value to human consciousness.&rdquo Or, as the French poet Raymond Radiguet, himself a child prodigy, put it even more puckishly, &ldquoChild prodigies exist just as there are extraordinary men. But they are rarely the same.&rdquo

With his first restaurant, an open-ended engagement with the city&rsquos notoriously unforgiving dining scene, McGarry is striving to leave the ranks of prodigy and join the brotherhood of extraordinary men. &ldquoIt&rsquos been so many years of just straight talking about the age,&rdquo he says, not without exasperation. &ldquoSure, the age might get people in the door, but it&rsquos not enough to make the restaurant sustainable, obviously.&rdquo

And so, he turns to the radish, one of the 16 courses a diner will be served for $160, gratuity included. In his callow youth, McGarry was liable to turn radishes into a pixel of a larger overwrought plate&mdashthe Times mentions ember-roasted carrot gelée with smoked egg yolk, compressed mango, pickled mustard seeds and coffee-pickled carrots. Of late, he has discovered the joy of simplicity. &ldquoThroughout the years, my cooking has gotten a lot more simple. At first, you have that whole thing of wanting to show every single thing you know,&rdquo he admits, &ldquonow, it&rsquos become more mature. There&rsquos not so much flash and bang.&rdquo

As a writer in my thirties, it&rsquos tempting to turn every otherwise normal utterance from McGarry into fodder for a sort of moralistic and paternalistic dig against youth. And, surely, many have succumbed to the temptation. Not a piece has been written that hasn&rsquot used his tender age as ridiculed ballast against his modernist technique. And, sure, when McGarry announces he&rsquoll be moving from Prospect Heights, where he lives now, to the Meatpacking District with a world-weary sigh&mdash&ldquoI just can&rsquot do the commute anymore,&rdquo he says, &ldquoit&rsquos 35 minutes each way&rdquo&mdashit&rsquos hard not to roll one&rsquos eyes. But then he lays out his schedule: Monday, 6 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday, 7 a.m. to 2:30 a.m. Sunday, 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. The guy deserves to be taken seriously.

If his food falls flat, well then he is not unlike hundreds of other chefs in the city who have tried to accomplish what he&rsquos up to at Eureka. And if his food soars, it shall do so independent of the dendrochronology of the sapling in question.

McGarry, about whom so many words have been written, is neither naive nor jaded. He is, rather, both boyishly enthusiastic and slightly guarded. For every feint, every query about how it is indeed possible for a youth so green to sound through food emotions so profound&mdashfor that is truly what makes $160 an unlaughable sum for dinner&mdashMcGarry has a ready parry. Dismissing the paucity of his life experience as a wellspring for his menu, he says, &ldquoCooking is an art form, and as an art form, it comes from a place you can&rsquot explain.&rdquo

And he has a point. There are many older chefs who have not yet located the aquifer that connects life experience with culinary expression. Samely, there is no reason a youth like McGarry couldn&rsquot have happened upon those reservoirs at an earlier point in his life than most.

In fact, the majority of the young chef&rsquos life experience has been culinary experience, making the Venn Diagram of Kitchen Life and Life Life particularly oblong. After his initial well-chronicled experiments at age 10, he has since worked at Alma in Los Angeles and staged throughout Europe. This is, of course, in addition to running his occasional pop-up and running interference from constant critique.

On McGarry&rsquos last trip back east, he was the subject of some quite ugly and revealing criticism from a grisled cohort who objected to his using the word chef. &ldquoChef is something you earn through years of being beaten and shit on and taught by some of the greats,&rdquo wrote chef David Santos in an Instagram screed. The statement is at once largely true and profoundly ignorant, and the extent to which it is true belies the ignorance that toxifies the restaurant industry like algal bloom. McGarry has been savaged by the press, most notably the New York Post&rsquos resident curmudgeon, Steve Cuozzo, at whose mention the chef shudders slightly.

McGarry, who was rather severely bullied at school, has built compensatory defenses. That&rsquos one reason, he says, for the tasting menu format. &ldquoI know people are going to come in here with their own prejudices and search for things to hate,&rdquo he tells me, &ldquoso if I can control the menu, then at least I can make sure I&rsquom giving them the best experience I can.&rdquo

And if one allows for homeschool, unschool and Waldorf pedagogy, the kitchen, too, has proven fertile ground for education. Through Eureka, McGarry is hitting nearly all of Howard Gardner&rsquos multiple intelligences. For instance, learning the ins and outs of New York Labor Law. &ldquoIt&rsquos a lot easier to own a business as a minor than it is to be employed by one,&rdquo he says. He&rsquos also mastered food costs and payroll. &ldquoBefore it was just sort of end of the day, I would be like, &lsquoOh great, we have money left,&rsquo or like, &lsquoWe didn't make any money.&rsquo But now we&rsquore running a business.&rdquo

On the interpersonal tip, he&rsquos learned how to read a room. &ldquoSo much of this is in the physical experience,&rdquo he says, &ldquoand every night changes, because when it's such a small group, it really depends on everyone's attitude and the vibe.&rdquo And, scrolling through a playlist which transitions from Brandy&rsquos &ldquoTalk About Our Love&rdquo to Tame Impala&rsquos &ldquoKeep On Lying&rdquo to G-Unit&rsquos &ldquoWanna Get to Know You,&rdquo McGarry shows a preternatural inclination for cultural sonic juxtaposition.

All this may or may not matter when Eureka opens its doors. Backstories are priceless, but dinner is expensive. The only persuasive counterclaim McGarry can present&mdashthat he belongs not among the prodigies but among the league of extraordinary men&mdashwill be presented on this counter to 16 guests, five nights a week. And so as he gazes into a now mostly empty dish where radishes once were, peering into his reflection in the shimmering pho broth at the bottom he made with radish and porcini mushrooms, he sighs. &ldquoI'm going to be here very late today testing,&rdquo he says. &ldquoIt&rsquos not there yet. But it&rsquoll get there soon. It has to.&rdquo

Watch McGarry cook live from our Test Kitchen in NYC here.


The Moment of Youth

10/18/16 By Joshua David Stein

Slender fingers adeptly cradling a pair of offset tweezers, 17-year-old chef Flynn McGarry placed a sliver of pickled black radish on a small glass plate already laden with myriad radishes. &ldquoI&rsquove tested this dish 10 times now,&rdquo McGarry says, &ldquoI feel like it can&rsquot just be a radish dish. Maybe it needs scallops.&rdquo McGarry is opening his first permanent New York City restaurant, an eight-seat tasting menu counter in the back of Kava, a Meatpacking District coffee shop. Like last year&rsquos pop-up that ran for six months out of a Manhattan catering company, this one will also be called Eureka.

The name could be a nod to the state motto of California&mdashMcGarry hails from the San Fernando Valley&mdashbut it probably has more to do with Archimedes and his sudden stroke of bathtub genius. If that&rsquos the case, what a funny title. McGarry, who began cooking at age 10 and appeared on the cover of the New York Times magazine at age 15, is indisputably a prodigy. In fact, that was the one-word headline of the 2012 New Yorker piece about him.

But, as Andrew Solomon notes in his book, Far from the Tree, there is a vast difference between prodigy and genius. &ldquoThe designation prodigy usually reflects timing, while genius reflects the ability to add something of value to human consciousness.&rdquo Or, as the French poet Raymond Radiguet, himself a child prodigy, put it even more puckishly, &ldquoChild prodigies exist just as there are extraordinary men. But they are rarely the same.&rdquo

With his first restaurant, an open-ended engagement with the city&rsquos notoriously unforgiving dining scene, McGarry is striving to leave the ranks of prodigy and join the brotherhood of extraordinary men. &ldquoIt&rsquos been so many years of just straight talking about the age,&rdquo he says, not without exasperation. &ldquoSure, the age might get people in the door, but it&rsquos not enough to make the restaurant sustainable, obviously.&rdquo

And so, he turns to the radish, one of the 16 courses a diner will be served for $160, gratuity included. In his callow youth, McGarry was liable to turn radishes into a pixel of a larger overwrought plate&mdashthe Times mentions ember-roasted carrot gelée with smoked egg yolk, compressed mango, pickled mustard seeds and coffee-pickled carrots. Of late, he has discovered the joy of simplicity. &ldquoThroughout the years, my cooking has gotten a lot more simple. At first, you have that whole thing of wanting to show every single thing you know,&rdquo he admits, &ldquonow, it&rsquos become more mature. There&rsquos not so much flash and bang.&rdquo

As a writer in my thirties, it&rsquos tempting to turn every otherwise normal utterance from McGarry into fodder for a sort of moralistic and paternalistic dig against youth. And, surely, many have succumbed to the temptation. Not a piece has been written that hasn&rsquot used his tender age as ridiculed ballast against his modernist technique. And, sure, when McGarry announces he&rsquoll be moving from Prospect Heights, where he lives now, to the Meatpacking District with a world-weary sigh&mdash&ldquoI just can&rsquot do the commute anymore,&rdquo he says, &ldquoit&rsquos 35 minutes each way&rdquo&mdashit&rsquos hard not to roll one&rsquos eyes. But then he lays out his schedule: Monday, 6 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday, 7 a.m. to 2:30 a.m. Sunday, 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. The guy deserves to be taken seriously.

If his food falls flat, well then he is not unlike hundreds of other chefs in the city who have tried to accomplish what he&rsquos up to at Eureka. And if his food soars, it shall do so independent of the dendrochronology of the sapling in question.

McGarry, about whom so many words have been written, is neither naive nor jaded. He is, rather, both boyishly enthusiastic and slightly guarded. For every feint, every query about how it is indeed possible for a youth so green to sound through food emotions so profound&mdashfor that is truly what makes $160 an unlaughable sum for dinner&mdashMcGarry has a ready parry. Dismissing the paucity of his life experience as a wellspring for his menu, he says, &ldquoCooking is an art form, and as an art form, it comes from a place you can&rsquot explain.&rdquo

And he has a point. There are many older chefs who have not yet located the aquifer that connects life experience with culinary expression. Samely, there is no reason a youth like McGarry couldn&rsquot have happened upon those reservoirs at an earlier point in his life than most.

In fact, the majority of the young chef&rsquos life experience has been culinary experience, making the Venn Diagram of Kitchen Life and Life Life particularly oblong. After his initial well-chronicled experiments at age 10, he has since worked at Alma in Los Angeles and staged throughout Europe. This is, of course, in addition to running his occasional pop-up and running interference from constant critique.

On McGarry&rsquos last trip back east, he was the subject of some quite ugly and revealing criticism from a grisled cohort who objected to his using the word chef. &ldquoChef is something you earn through years of being beaten and shit on and taught by some of the greats,&rdquo wrote chef David Santos in an Instagram screed. The statement is at once largely true and profoundly ignorant, and the extent to which it is true belies the ignorance that toxifies the restaurant industry like algal bloom. McGarry has been savaged by the press, most notably the New York Post&rsquos resident curmudgeon, Steve Cuozzo, at whose mention the chef shudders slightly.

McGarry, who was rather severely bullied at school, has built compensatory defenses. That&rsquos one reason, he says, for the tasting menu format. &ldquoI know people are going to come in here with their own prejudices and search for things to hate,&rdquo he tells me, &ldquoso if I can control the menu, then at least I can make sure I&rsquom giving them the best experience I can.&rdquo

And if one allows for homeschool, unschool and Waldorf pedagogy, the kitchen, too, has proven fertile ground for education. Through Eureka, McGarry is hitting nearly all of Howard Gardner&rsquos multiple intelligences. For instance, learning the ins and outs of New York Labor Law. &ldquoIt&rsquos a lot easier to own a business as a minor than it is to be employed by one,&rdquo he says. He&rsquos also mastered food costs and payroll. &ldquoBefore it was just sort of end of the day, I would be like, &lsquoOh great, we have money left,&rsquo or like, &lsquoWe didn't make any money.&rsquo But now we&rsquore running a business.&rdquo

On the interpersonal tip, he&rsquos learned how to read a room. &ldquoSo much of this is in the physical experience,&rdquo he says, &ldquoand every night changes, because when it's such a small group, it really depends on everyone's attitude and the vibe.&rdquo And, scrolling through a playlist which transitions from Brandy&rsquos &ldquoTalk About Our Love&rdquo to Tame Impala&rsquos &ldquoKeep On Lying&rdquo to G-Unit&rsquos &ldquoWanna Get to Know You,&rdquo McGarry shows a preternatural inclination for cultural sonic juxtaposition.

All this may or may not matter when Eureka opens its doors. Backstories are priceless, but dinner is expensive. The only persuasive counterclaim McGarry can present&mdashthat he belongs not among the prodigies but among the league of extraordinary men&mdashwill be presented on this counter to 16 guests, five nights a week. And so as he gazes into a now mostly empty dish where radishes once were, peering into his reflection in the shimmering pho broth at the bottom he made with radish and porcini mushrooms, he sighs. &ldquoI'm going to be here very late today testing,&rdquo he says. &ldquoIt&rsquos not there yet. But it&rsquoll get there soon. It has to.&rdquo

Watch McGarry cook live from our Test Kitchen in NYC here.


The Moment of Youth

10/18/16 By Joshua David Stein

Slender fingers adeptly cradling a pair of offset tweezers, 17-year-old chef Flynn McGarry placed a sliver of pickled black radish on a small glass plate already laden with myriad radishes. &ldquoI&rsquove tested this dish 10 times now,&rdquo McGarry says, &ldquoI feel like it can&rsquot just be a radish dish. Maybe it needs scallops.&rdquo McGarry is opening his first permanent New York City restaurant, an eight-seat tasting menu counter in the back of Kava, a Meatpacking District coffee shop. Like last year&rsquos pop-up that ran for six months out of a Manhattan catering company, this one will also be called Eureka.

The name could be a nod to the state motto of California&mdashMcGarry hails from the San Fernando Valley&mdashbut it probably has more to do with Archimedes and his sudden stroke of bathtub genius. If that&rsquos the case, what a funny title. McGarry, who began cooking at age 10 and appeared on the cover of the New York Times magazine at age 15, is indisputably a prodigy. In fact, that was the one-word headline of the 2012 New Yorker piece about him.

But, as Andrew Solomon notes in his book, Far from the Tree, there is a vast difference between prodigy and genius. &ldquoThe designation prodigy usually reflects timing, while genius reflects the ability to add something of value to human consciousness.&rdquo Or, as the French poet Raymond Radiguet, himself a child prodigy, put it even more puckishly, &ldquoChild prodigies exist just as there are extraordinary men. But they are rarely the same.&rdquo

With his first restaurant, an open-ended engagement with the city&rsquos notoriously unforgiving dining scene, McGarry is striving to leave the ranks of prodigy and join the brotherhood of extraordinary men. &ldquoIt&rsquos been so many years of just straight talking about the age,&rdquo he says, not without exasperation. &ldquoSure, the age might get people in the door, but it&rsquos not enough to make the restaurant sustainable, obviously.&rdquo

And so, he turns to the radish, one of the 16 courses a diner will be served for $160, gratuity included. In his callow youth, McGarry was liable to turn radishes into a pixel of a larger overwrought plate&mdashthe Times mentions ember-roasted carrot gelée with smoked egg yolk, compressed mango, pickled mustard seeds and coffee-pickled carrots. Of late, he has discovered the joy of simplicity. &ldquoThroughout the years, my cooking has gotten a lot more simple. At first, you have that whole thing of wanting to show every single thing you know,&rdquo he admits, &ldquonow, it&rsquos become more mature. There&rsquos not so much flash and bang.&rdquo

As a writer in my thirties, it&rsquos tempting to turn every otherwise normal utterance from McGarry into fodder for a sort of moralistic and paternalistic dig against youth. And, surely, many have succumbed to the temptation. Not a piece has been written that hasn&rsquot used his tender age as ridiculed ballast against his modernist technique. And, sure, when McGarry announces he&rsquoll be moving from Prospect Heights, where he lives now, to the Meatpacking District with a world-weary sigh&mdash&ldquoI just can&rsquot do the commute anymore,&rdquo he says, &ldquoit&rsquos 35 minutes each way&rdquo&mdashit&rsquos hard not to roll one&rsquos eyes. But then he lays out his schedule: Monday, 6 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday, 7 a.m. to 2:30 a.m. Sunday, 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. The guy deserves to be taken seriously.

If his food falls flat, well then he is not unlike hundreds of other chefs in the city who have tried to accomplish what he&rsquos up to at Eureka. And if his food soars, it shall do so independent of the dendrochronology of the sapling in question.

McGarry, about whom so many words have been written, is neither naive nor jaded. He is, rather, both boyishly enthusiastic and slightly guarded. For every feint, every query about how it is indeed possible for a youth so green to sound through food emotions so profound&mdashfor that is truly what makes $160 an unlaughable sum for dinner&mdashMcGarry has a ready parry. Dismissing the paucity of his life experience as a wellspring for his menu, he says, &ldquoCooking is an art form, and as an art form, it comes from a place you can&rsquot explain.&rdquo

And he has a point. There are many older chefs who have not yet located the aquifer that connects life experience with culinary expression. Samely, there is no reason a youth like McGarry couldn&rsquot have happened upon those reservoirs at an earlier point in his life than most.

In fact, the majority of the young chef&rsquos life experience has been culinary experience, making the Venn Diagram of Kitchen Life and Life Life particularly oblong. After his initial well-chronicled experiments at age 10, he has since worked at Alma in Los Angeles and staged throughout Europe. This is, of course, in addition to running his occasional pop-up and running interference from constant critique.

On McGarry&rsquos last trip back east, he was the subject of some quite ugly and revealing criticism from a grisled cohort who objected to his using the word chef. &ldquoChef is something you earn through years of being beaten and shit on and taught by some of the greats,&rdquo wrote chef David Santos in an Instagram screed. The statement is at once largely true and profoundly ignorant, and the extent to which it is true belies the ignorance that toxifies the restaurant industry like algal bloom. McGarry has been savaged by the press, most notably the New York Post&rsquos resident curmudgeon, Steve Cuozzo, at whose mention the chef shudders slightly.

McGarry, who was rather severely bullied at school, has built compensatory defenses. That&rsquos one reason, he says, for the tasting menu format. &ldquoI know people are going to come in here with their own prejudices and search for things to hate,&rdquo he tells me, &ldquoso if I can control the menu, then at least I can make sure I&rsquom giving them the best experience I can.&rdquo

And if one allows for homeschool, unschool and Waldorf pedagogy, the kitchen, too, has proven fertile ground for education. Through Eureka, McGarry is hitting nearly all of Howard Gardner&rsquos multiple intelligences. For instance, learning the ins and outs of New York Labor Law. &ldquoIt&rsquos a lot easier to own a business as a minor than it is to be employed by one,&rdquo he says. He&rsquos also mastered food costs and payroll. &ldquoBefore it was just sort of end of the day, I would be like, &lsquoOh great, we have money left,&rsquo or like, &lsquoWe didn't make any money.&rsquo But now we&rsquore running a business.&rdquo

On the interpersonal tip, he&rsquos learned how to read a room. &ldquoSo much of this is in the physical experience,&rdquo he says, &ldquoand every night changes, because when it's such a small group, it really depends on everyone's attitude and the vibe.&rdquo And, scrolling through a playlist which transitions from Brandy&rsquos &ldquoTalk About Our Love&rdquo to Tame Impala&rsquos &ldquoKeep On Lying&rdquo to G-Unit&rsquos &ldquoWanna Get to Know You,&rdquo McGarry shows a preternatural inclination for cultural sonic juxtaposition.

All this may or may not matter when Eureka opens its doors. Backstories are priceless, but dinner is expensive. The only persuasive counterclaim McGarry can present&mdashthat he belongs not among the prodigies but among the league of extraordinary men&mdashwill be presented on this counter to 16 guests, five nights a week. And so as he gazes into a now mostly empty dish where radishes once were, peering into his reflection in the shimmering pho broth at the bottom he made with radish and porcini mushrooms, he sighs. &ldquoI'm going to be here very late today testing,&rdquo he says. &ldquoIt&rsquos not there yet. But it&rsquoll get there soon. It has to.&rdquo

Watch McGarry cook live from our Test Kitchen in NYC here.


The Moment of Youth

10/18/16 By Joshua David Stein

Slender fingers adeptly cradling a pair of offset tweezers, 17-year-old chef Flynn McGarry placed a sliver of pickled black radish on a small glass plate already laden with myriad radishes. &ldquoI&rsquove tested this dish 10 times now,&rdquo McGarry says, &ldquoI feel like it can&rsquot just be a radish dish. Maybe it needs scallops.&rdquo McGarry is opening his first permanent New York City restaurant, an eight-seat tasting menu counter in the back of Kava, a Meatpacking District coffee shop. Like last year&rsquos pop-up that ran for six months out of a Manhattan catering company, this one will also be called Eureka.

The name could be a nod to the state motto of California&mdashMcGarry hails from the San Fernando Valley&mdashbut it probably has more to do with Archimedes and his sudden stroke of bathtub genius. If that&rsquos the case, what a funny title. McGarry, who began cooking at age 10 and appeared on the cover of the New York Times magazine at age 15, is indisputably a prodigy. In fact, that was the one-word headline of the 2012 New Yorker piece about him.

But, as Andrew Solomon notes in his book, Far from the Tree, there is a vast difference between prodigy and genius. &ldquoThe designation prodigy usually reflects timing, while genius reflects the ability to add something of value to human consciousness.&rdquo Or, as the French poet Raymond Radiguet, himself a child prodigy, put it even more puckishly, &ldquoChild prodigies exist just as there are extraordinary men. But they are rarely the same.&rdquo

With his first restaurant, an open-ended engagement with the city&rsquos notoriously unforgiving dining scene, McGarry is striving to leave the ranks of prodigy and join the brotherhood of extraordinary men. &ldquoIt&rsquos been so many years of just straight talking about the age,&rdquo he says, not without exasperation. &ldquoSure, the age might get people in the door, but it&rsquos not enough to make the restaurant sustainable, obviously.&rdquo

And so, he turns to the radish, one of the 16 courses a diner will be served for $160, gratuity included. In his callow youth, McGarry was liable to turn radishes into a pixel of a larger overwrought plate&mdashthe Times mentions ember-roasted carrot gelée with smoked egg yolk, compressed mango, pickled mustard seeds and coffee-pickled carrots. Of late, he has discovered the joy of simplicity. &ldquoThroughout the years, my cooking has gotten a lot more simple. At first, you have that whole thing of wanting to show every single thing you know,&rdquo he admits, &ldquonow, it&rsquos become more mature. There&rsquos not so much flash and bang.&rdquo

As a writer in my thirties, it&rsquos tempting to turn every otherwise normal utterance from McGarry into fodder for a sort of moralistic and paternalistic dig against youth. And, surely, many have succumbed to the temptation. Not a piece has been written that hasn&rsquot used his tender age as ridiculed ballast against his modernist technique. And, sure, when McGarry announces he&rsquoll be moving from Prospect Heights, where he lives now, to the Meatpacking District with a world-weary sigh&mdash&ldquoI just can&rsquot do the commute anymore,&rdquo he says, &ldquoit&rsquos 35 minutes each way&rdquo&mdashit&rsquos hard not to roll one&rsquos eyes. But then he lays out his schedule: Monday, 6 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday, 7 a.m. to 2:30 a.m. Sunday, 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. The guy deserves to be taken seriously.

If his food falls flat, well then he is not unlike hundreds of other chefs in the city who have tried to accomplish what he&rsquos up to at Eureka. And if his food soars, it shall do so independent of the dendrochronology of the sapling in question.

McGarry, about whom so many words have been written, is neither naive nor jaded. He is, rather, both boyishly enthusiastic and slightly guarded. For every feint, every query about how it is indeed possible for a youth so green to sound through food emotions so profound&mdashfor that is truly what makes $160 an unlaughable sum for dinner&mdashMcGarry has a ready parry. Dismissing the paucity of his life experience as a wellspring for his menu, he says, &ldquoCooking is an art form, and as an art form, it comes from a place you can&rsquot explain.&rdquo

And he has a point. There are many older chefs who have not yet located the aquifer that connects life experience with culinary expression. Samely, there is no reason a youth like McGarry couldn&rsquot have happened upon those reservoirs at an earlier point in his life than most.

In fact, the majority of the young chef&rsquos life experience has been culinary experience, making the Venn Diagram of Kitchen Life and Life Life particularly oblong. After his initial well-chronicled experiments at age 10, he has since worked at Alma in Los Angeles and staged throughout Europe. This is, of course, in addition to running his occasional pop-up and running interference from constant critique.

On McGarry&rsquos last trip back east, he was the subject of some quite ugly and revealing criticism from a grisled cohort who objected to his using the word chef. &ldquoChef is something you earn through years of being beaten and shit on and taught by some of the greats,&rdquo wrote chef David Santos in an Instagram screed. The statement is at once largely true and profoundly ignorant, and the extent to which it is true belies the ignorance that toxifies the restaurant industry like algal bloom. McGarry has been savaged by the press, most notably the New York Post&rsquos resident curmudgeon, Steve Cuozzo, at whose mention the chef shudders slightly.

McGarry, who was rather severely bullied at school, has built compensatory defenses. That&rsquos one reason, he says, for the tasting menu format. &ldquoI know people are going to come in here with their own prejudices and search for things to hate,&rdquo he tells me, &ldquoso if I can control the menu, then at least I can make sure I&rsquom giving them the best experience I can.&rdquo

And if one allows for homeschool, unschool and Waldorf pedagogy, the kitchen, too, has proven fertile ground for education. Through Eureka, McGarry is hitting nearly all of Howard Gardner&rsquos multiple intelligences. For instance, learning the ins and outs of New York Labor Law. &ldquoIt&rsquos a lot easier to own a business as a minor than it is to be employed by one,&rdquo he says. He&rsquos also mastered food costs and payroll. &ldquoBefore it was just sort of end of the day, I would be like, &lsquoOh great, we have money left,&rsquo or like, &lsquoWe didn't make any money.&rsquo But now we&rsquore running a business.&rdquo

On the interpersonal tip, he&rsquos learned how to read a room. &ldquoSo much of this is in the physical experience,&rdquo he says, &ldquoand every night changes, because when it's such a small group, it really depends on everyone's attitude and the vibe.&rdquo And, scrolling through a playlist which transitions from Brandy&rsquos &ldquoTalk About Our Love&rdquo to Tame Impala&rsquos &ldquoKeep On Lying&rdquo to G-Unit&rsquos &ldquoWanna Get to Know You,&rdquo McGarry shows a preternatural inclination for cultural sonic juxtaposition.

All this may or may not matter when Eureka opens its doors. Backstories are priceless, but dinner is expensive. The only persuasive counterclaim McGarry can present&mdashthat he belongs not among the prodigies but among the league of extraordinary men&mdashwill be presented on this counter to 16 guests, five nights a week. And so as he gazes into a now mostly empty dish where radishes once were, peering into his reflection in the shimmering pho broth at the bottom he made with radish and porcini mushrooms, he sighs. &ldquoI'm going to be here very late today testing,&rdquo he says. &ldquoIt&rsquos not there yet. But it&rsquoll get there soon. It has to.&rdquo

Watch McGarry cook live from our Test Kitchen in NYC here.


The Moment of Youth

10/18/16 By Joshua David Stein

Slender fingers adeptly cradling a pair of offset tweezers, 17-year-old chef Flynn McGarry placed a sliver of pickled black radish on a small glass plate already laden with myriad radishes. &ldquoI&rsquove tested this dish 10 times now,&rdquo McGarry says, &ldquoI feel like it can&rsquot just be a radish dish. Maybe it needs scallops.&rdquo McGarry is opening his first permanent New York City restaurant, an eight-seat tasting menu counter in the back of Kava, a Meatpacking District coffee shop. Like last year&rsquos pop-up that ran for six months out of a Manhattan catering company, this one will also be called Eureka.

The name could be a nod to the state motto of California&mdashMcGarry hails from the San Fernando Valley&mdashbut it probably has more to do with Archimedes and his sudden stroke of bathtub genius. If that&rsquos the case, what a funny title. McGarry, who began cooking at age 10 and appeared on the cover of the New York Times magazine at age 15, is indisputably a prodigy. In fact, that was the one-word headline of the 2012 New Yorker piece about him.

But, as Andrew Solomon notes in his book, Far from the Tree, there is a vast difference between prodigy and genius. &ldquoThe designation prodigy usually reflects timing, while genius reflects the ability to add something of value to human consciousness.&rdquo Or, as the French poet Raymond Radiguet, himself a child prodigy, put it even more puckishly, &ldquoChild prodigies exist just as there are extraordinary men. But they are rarely the same.&rdquo

With his first restaurant, an open-ended engagement with the city&rsquos notoriously unforgiving dining scene, McGarry is striving to leave the ranks of prodigy and join the brotherhood of extraordinary men. &ldquoIt&rsquos been so many years of just straight talking about the age,&rdquo he says, not without exasperation. &ldquoSure, the age might get people in the door, but it&rsquos not enough to make the restaurant sustainable, obviously.&rdquo

And so, he turns to the radish, one of the 16 courses a diner will be served for $160, gratuity included. In his callow youth, McGarry was liable to turn radishes into a pixel of a larger overwrought plate&mdashthe Times mentions ember-roasted carrot gelée with smoked egg yolk, compressed mango, pickled mustard seeds and coffee-pickled carrots. Of late, he has discovered the joy of simplicity. &ldquoThroughout the years, my cooking has gotten a lot more simple. At first, you have that whole thing of wanting to show every single thing you know,&rdquo he admits, &ldquonow, it&rsquos become more mature. There&rsquos not so much flash and bang.&rdquo

As a writer in my thirties, it&rsquos tempting to turn every otherwise normal utterance from McGarry into fodder for a sort of moralistic and paternalistic dig against youth. And, surely, many have succumbed to the temptation. Not a piece has been written that hasn&rsquot used his tender age as ridiculed ballast against his modernist technique. And, sure, when McGarry announces he&rsquoll be moving from Prospect Heights, where he lives now, to the Meatpacking District with a world-weary sigh&mdash&ldquoI just can&rsquot do the commute anymore,&rdquo he says, &ldquoit&rsquos 35 minutes each way&rdquo&mdashit&rsquos hard not to roll one&rsquos eyes. But then he lays out his schedule: Monday, 6 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday, 7 a.m. to 2:30 a.m. Sunday, 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. The guy deserves to be taken seriously.

If his food falls flat, well then he is not unlike hundreds of other chefs in the city who have tried to accomplish what he&rsquos up to at Eureka. And if his food soars, it shall do so independent of the dendrochronology of the sapling in question.

McGarry, about whom so many words have been written, is neither naive nor jaded. He is, rather, both boyishly enthusiastic and slightly guarded. For every feint, every query about how it is indeed possible for a youth so green to sound through food emotions so profound&mdashfor that is truly what makes $160 an unlaughable sum for dinner&mdashMcGarry has a ready parry. Dismissing the paucity of his life experience as a wellspring for his menu, he says, &ldquoCooking is an art form, and as an art form, it comes from a place you can&rsquot explain.&rdquo

And he has a point. There are many older chefs who have not yet located the aquifer that connects life experience with culinary expression. Samely, there is no reason a youth like McGarry couldn&rsquot have happened upon those reservoirs at an earlier point in his life than most.

In fact, the majority of the young chef&rsquos life experience has been culinary experience, making the Venn Diagram of Kitchen Life and Life Life particularly oblong. After his initial well-chronicled experiments at age 10, he has since worked at Alma in Los Angeles and staged throughout Europe. This is, of course, in addition to running his occasional pop-up and running interference from constant critique.

On McGarry&rsquos last trip back east, he was the subject of some quite ugly and revealing criticism from a grisled cohort who objected to his using the word chef. &ldquoChef is something you earn through years of being beaten and shit on and taught by some of the greats,&rdquo wrote chef David Santos in an Instagram screed. The statement is at once largely true and profoundly ignorant, and the extent to which it is true belies the ignorance that toxifies the restaurant industry like algal bloom. McGarry has been savaged by the press, most notably the New York Post&rsquos resident curmudgeon, Steve Cuozzo, at whose mention the chef shudders slightly.

McGarry, who was rather severely bullied at school, has built compensatory defenses. That&rsquos one reason, he says, for the tasting menu format. &ldquoI know people are going to come in here with their own prejudices and search for things to hate,&rdquo he tells me, &ldquoso if I can control the menu, then at least I can make sure I&rsquom giving them the best experience I can.&rdquo

And if one allows for homeschool, unschool and Waldorf pedagogy, the kitchen, too, has proven fertile ground for education. Through Eureka, McGarry is hitting nearly all of Howard Gardner&rsquos multiple intelligences. For instance, learning the ins and outs of New York Labor Law. &ldquoIt&rsquos a lot easier to own a business as a minor than it is to be employed by one,&rdquo he says. He&rsquos also mastered food costs and payroll. &ldquoBefore it was just sort of end of the day, I would be like, &lsquoOh great, we have money left,&rsquo or like, &lsquoWe didn't make any money.&rsquo But now we&rsquore running a business.&rdquo

On the interpersonal tip, he&rsquos learned how to read a room. &ldquoSo much of this is in the physical experience,&rdquo he says, &ldquoand every night changes, because when it's such a small group, it really depends on everyone's attitude and the vibe.&rdquo And, scrolling through a playlist which transitions from Brandy&rsquos &ldquoTalk About Our Love&rdquo to Tame Impala&rsquos &ldquoKeep On Lying&rdquo to G-Unit&rsquos &ldquoWanna Get to Know You,&rdquo McGarry shows a preternatural inclination for cultural sonic juxtaposition.

All this may or may not matter when Eureka opens its doors. Backstories are priceless, but dinner is expensive. The only persuasive counterclaim McGarry can present&mdashthat he belongs not among the prodigies but among the league of extraordinary men&mdashwill be presented on this counter to 16 guests, five nights a week. And so as he gazes into a now mostly empty dish where radishes once were, peering into his reflection in the shimmering pho broth at the bottom he made with radish and porcini mushrooms, he sighs. &ldquoI'm going to be here very late today testing,&rdquo he says. &ldquoIt&rsquos not there yet. But it&rsquoll get there soon. It has to.&rdquo

Watch McGarry cook live from our Test Kitchen in NYC here.


The Moment of Youth

10/18/16 By Joshua David Stein

Slender fingers adeptly cradling a pair of offset tweezers, 17-year-old chef Flynn McGarry placed a sliver of pickled black radish on a small glass plate already laden with myriad radishes. &ldquoI&rsquove tested this dish 10 times now,&rdquo McGarry says, &ldquoI feel like it can&rsquot just be a radish dish. Maybe it needs scallops.&rdquo McGarry is opening his first permanent New York City restaurant, an eight-seat tasting menu counter in the back of Kava, a Meatpacking District coffee shop. Like last year&rsquos pop-up that ran for six months out of a Manhattan catering company, this one will also be called Eureka.

The name could be a nod to the state motto of California&mdashMcGarry hails from the San Fernando Valley&mdashbut it probably has more to do with Archimedes and his sudden stroke of bathtub genius. If that&rsquos the case, what a funny title. McGarry, who began cooking at age 10 and appeared on the cover of the New York Times magazine at age 15, is indisputably a prodigy. In fact, that was the one-word headline of the 2012 New Yorker piece about him.

But, as Andrew Solomon notes in his book, Far from the Tree, there is a vast difference between prodigy and genius. &ldquoThe designation prodigy usually reflects timing, while genius reflects the ability to add something of value to human consciousness.&rdquo Or, as the French poet Raymond Radiguet, himself a child prodigy, put it even more puckishly, &ldquoChild prodigies exist just as there are extraordinary men. But they are rarely the same.&rdquo

With his first restaurant, an open-ended engagement with the city&rsquos notoriously unforgiving dining scene, McGarry is striving to leave the ranks of prodigy and join the brotherhood of extraordinary men. &ldquoIt&rsquos been so many years of just straight talking about the age,&rdquo he says, not without exasperation. &ldquoSure, the age might get people in the door, but it&rsquos not enough to make the restaurant sustainable, obviously.&rdquo

And so, he turns to the radish, one of the 16 courses a diner will be served for $160, gratuity included. In his callow youth, McGarry was liable to turn radishes into a pixel of a larger overwrought plate&mdashthe Times mentions ember-roasted carrot gelée with smoked egg yolk, compressed mango, pickled mustard seeds and coffee-pickled carrots. Of late, he has discovered the joy of simplicity. &ldquoThroughout the years, my cooking has gotten a lot more simple. At first, you have that whole thing of wanting to show every single thing you know,&rdquo he admits, &ldquonow, it&rsquos become more mature. There&rsquos not so much flash and bang.&rdquo

As a writer in my thirties, it&rsquos tempting to turn every otherwise normal utterance from McGarry into fodder for a sort of moralistic and paternalistic dig against youth. And, surely, many have succumbed to the temptation. Not a piece has been written that hasn&rsquot used his tender age as ridiculed ballast against his modernist technique. And, sure, when McGarry announces he&rsquoll be moving from Prospect Heights, where he lives now, to the Meatpacking District with a world-weary sigh&mdash&ldquoI just can&rsquot do the commute anymore,&rdquo he says, &ldquoit&rsquos 35 minutes each way&rdquo&mdashit&rsquos hard not to roll one&rsquos eyes. But then he lays out his schedule: Monday, 6 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday, 7 a.m. to 2:30 a.m. Sunday, 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. The guy deserves to be taken seriously.

If his food falls flat, well then he is not unlike hundreds of other chefs in the city who have tried to accomplish what he&rsquos up to at Eureka. And if his food soars, it shall do so independent of the dendrochronology of the sapling in question.

McGarry, about whom so many words have been written, is neither naive nor jaded. He is, rather, both boyishly enthusiastic and slightly guarded. For every feint, every query about how it is indeed possible for a youth so green to sound through food emotions so profound&mdashfor that is truly what makes $160 an unlaughable sum for dinner&mdashMcGarry has a ready parry. Dismissing the paucity of his life experience as a wellspring for his menu, he says, &ldquoCooking is an art form, and as an art form, it comes from a place you can&rsquot explain.&rdquo

And he has a point. There are many older chefs who have not yet located the aquifer that connects life experience with culinary expression. Samely, there is no reason a youth like McGarry couldn&rsquot have happened upon those reservoirs at an earlier point in his life than most.

In fact, the majority of the young chef&rsquos life experience has been culinary experience, making the Venn Diagram of Kitchen Life and Life Life particularly oblong. After his initial well-chronicled experiments at age 10, he has since worked at Alma in Los Angeles and staged throughout Europe. This is, of course, in addition to running his occasional pop-up and running interference from constant critique.

On McGarry&rsquos last trip back east, he was the subject of some quite ugly and revealing criticism from a grisled cohort who objected to his using the word chef. &ldquoChef is something you earn through years of being beaten and shit on and taught by some of the greats,&rdquo wrote chef David Santos in an Instagram screed. The statement is at once largely true and profoundly ignorant, and the extent to which it is true belies the ignorance that toxifies the restaurant industry like algal bloom. McGarry has been savaged by the press, most notably the New York Post&rsquos resident curmudgeon, Steve Cuozzo, at whose mention the chef shudders slightly.

McGarry, who was rather severely bullied at school, has built compensatory defenses. That&rsquos one reason, he says, for the tasting menu format. &ldquoI know people are going to come in here with their own prejudices and search for things to hate,&rdquo he tells me, &ldquoso if I can control the menu, then at least I can make sure I&rsquom giving them the best experience I can.&rdquo

And if one allows for homeschool, unschool and Waldorf pedagogy, the kitchen, too, has proven fertile ground for education. Through Eureka, McGarry is hitting nearly all of Howard Gardner&rsquos multiple intelligences. For instance, learning the ins and outs of New York Labor Law. &ldquoIt&rsquos a lot easier to own a business as a minor than it is to be employed by one,&rdquo he says. He&rsquos also mastered food costs and payroll. &ldquoBefore it was just sort of end of the day, I would be like, &lsquoOh great, we have money left,&rsquo or like, &lsquoWe didn't make any money.&rsquo But now we&rsquore running a business.&rdquo

On the interpersonal tip, he&rsquos learned how to read a room. &ldquoSo much of this is in the physical experience,&rdquo he says, &ldquoand every night changes, because when it's such a small group, it really depends on everyone's attitude and the vibe.&rdquo And, scrolling through a playlist which transitions from Brandy&rsquos &ldquoTalk About Our Love&rdquo to Tame Impala&rsquos &ldquoKeep On Lying&rdquo to G-Unit&rsquos &ldquoWanna Get to Know You,&rdquo McGarry shows a preternatural inclination for cultural sonic juxtaposition.

All this may or may not matter when Eureka opens its doors. Backstories are priceless, but dinner is expensive. The only persuasive counterclaim McGarry can present&mdashthat he belongs not among the prodigies but among the league of extraordinary men&mdashwill be presented on this counter to 16 guests, five nights a week. And so as he gazes into a now mostly empty dish where radishes once were, peering into his reflection in the shimmering pho broth at the bottom he made with radish and porcini mushrooms, he sighs. &ldquoI'm going to be here very late today testing,&rdquo he says. &ldquoIt&rsquos not there yet. But it&rsquoll get there soon. It has to.&rdquo

Watch McGarry cook live from our Test Kitchen in NYC here.


The Moment of Youth

10/18/16 By Joshua David Stein

Slender fingers adeptly cradling a pair of offset tweezers, 17-year-old chef Flynn McGarry placed a sliver of pickled black radish on a small glass plate already laden with myriad radishes. &ldquoI&rsquove tested this dish 10 times now,&rdquo McGarry says, &ldquoI feel like it can&rsquot just be a radish dish. Maybe it needs scallops.&rdquo McGarry is opening his first permanent New York City restaurant, an eight-seat tasting menu counter in the back of Kava, a Meatpacking District coffee shop. Like last year&rsquos pop-up that ran for six months out of a Manhattan catering company, this one will also be called Eureka.

The name could be a nod to the state motto of California&mdashMcGarry hails from the San Fernando Valley&mdashbut it probably has more to do with Archimedes and his sudden stroke of bathtub genius. If that&rsquos the case, what a funny title. McGarry, who began cooking at age 10 and appeared on the cover of the New York Times magazine at age 15, is indisputably a prodigy. In fact, that was the one-word headline of the 2012 New Yorker piece about him.

But, as Andrew Solomon notes in his book, Far from the Tree, there is a vast difference between prodigy and genius. &ldquoThe designation prodigy usually reflects timing, while genius reflects the ability to add something of value to human consciousness.&rdquo Or, as the French poet Raymond Radiguet, himself a child prodigy, put it even more puckishly, &ldquoChild prodigies exist just as there are extraordinary men. But they are rarely the same.&rdquo

With his first restaurant, an open-ended engagement with the city&rsquos notoriously unforgiving dining scene, McGarry is striving to leave the ranks of prodigy and join the brotherhood of extraordinary men. &ldquoIt&rsquos been so many years of just straight talking about the age,&rdquo he says, not without exasperation. &ldquoSure, the age might get people in the door, but it&rsquos not enough to make the restaurant sustainable, obviously.&rdquo

And so, he turns to the radish, one of the 16 courses a diner will be served for $160, gratuity included. In his callow youth, McGarry was liable to turn radishes into a pixel of a larger overwrought plate&mdashthe Times mentions ember-roasted carrot gelée with smoked egg yolk, compressed mango, pickled mustard seeds and coffee-pickled carrots. Of late, he has discovered the joy of simplicity. &ldquoThroughout the years, my cooking has gotten a lot more simple. At first, you have that whole thing of wanting to show every single thing you know,&rdquo he admits, &ldquonow, it&rsquos become more mature. There&rsquos not so much flash and bang.&rdquo

As a writer in my thirties, it&rsquos tempting to turn every otherwise normal utterance from McGarry into fodder for a sort of moralistic and paternalistic dig against youth. And, surely, many have succumbed to the temptation. Not a piece has been written that hasn&rsquot used his tender age as ridiculed ballast against his modernist technique. And, sure, when McGarry announces he&rsquoll be moving from Prospect Heights, where he lives now, to the Meatpacking District with a world-weary sigh&mdash&ldquoI just can&rsquot do the commute anymore,&rdquo he says, &ldquoit&rsquos 35 minutes each way&rdquo&mdashit&rsquos hard not to roll one&rsquos eyes. But then he lays out his schedule: Monday, 6 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday, 7 a.m. to 2:30 a.m. Sunday, 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. The guy deserves to be taken seriously.

If his food falls flat, well then he is not unlike hundreds of other chefs in the city who have tried to accomplish what he&rsquos up to at Eureka. And if his food soars, it shall do so independent of the dendrochronology of the sapling in question.

McGarry, about whom so many words have been written, is neither naive nor jaded. He is, rather, both boyishly enthusiastic and slightly guarded. For every feint, every query about how it is indeed possible for a youth so green to sound through food emotions so profound&mdashfor that is truly what makes $160 an unlaughable sum for dinner&mdashMcGarry has a ready parry. Dismissing the paucity of his life experience as a wellspring for his menu, he says, &ldquoCooking is an art form, and as an art form, it comes from a place you can&rsquot explain.&rdquo

And he has a point. There are many older chefs who have not yet located the aquifer that connects life experience with culinary expression. Samely, there is no reason a youth like McGarry couldn&rsquot have happened upon those reservoirs at an earlier point in his life than most.

In fact, the majority of the young chef&rsquos life experience has been culinary experience, making the Venn Diagram of Kitchen Life and Life Life particularly oblong. After his initial well-chronicled experiments at age 10, he has since worked at Alma in Los Angeles and staged throughout Europe. This is, of course, in addition to running his occasional pop-up and running interference from constant critique.

On McGarry&rsquos last trip back east, he was the subject of some quite ugly and revealing criticism from a grisled cohort who objected to his using the word chef. &ldquoChef is something you earn through years of being beaten and shit on and taught by some of the greats,&rdquo wrote chef David Santos in an Instagram screed. The statement is at once largely true and profoundly ignorant, and the extent to which it is true belies the ignorance that toxifies the restaurant industry like algal bloom. McGarry has been savaged by the press, most notably the New York Post&rsquos resident curmudgeon, Steve Cuozzo, at whose mention the chef shudders slightly.

McGarry, who was rather severely bullied at school, has built compensatory defenses. That&rsquos one reason, he says, for the tasting menu format. &ldquoI know people are going to come in here with their own prejudices and search for things to hate,&rdquo he tells me, &ldquoso if I can control the menu, then at least I can make sure I&rsquom giving them the best experience I can.&rdquo

And if one allows for homeschool, unschool and Waldorf pedagogy, the kitchen, too, has proven fertile ground for education. Through Eureka, McGarry is hitting nearly all of Howard Gardner&rsquos multiple intelligences. For instance, learning the ins and outs of New York Labor Law. &ldquoIt&rsquos a lot easier to own a business as a minor than it is to be employed by one,&rdquo he says. He&rsquos also mastered food costs and payroll. &ldquoBefore it was just sort of end of the day, I would be like, &lsquoOh great, we have money left,&rsquo or like, &lsquoWe didn't make any money.&rsquo But now we&rsquore running a business.&rdquo

On the interpersonal tip, he&rsquos learned how to read a room. &ldquoSo much of this is in the physical experience,&rdquo he says, &ldquoand every night changes, because when it's such a small group, it really depends on everyone's attitude and the vibe.&rdquo And, scrolling through a playlist which transitions from Brandy&rsquos &ldquoTalk About Our Love&rdquo to Tame Impala&rsquos &ldquoKeep On Lying&rdquo to G-Unit&rsquos &ldquoWanna Get to Know You,&rdquo McGarry shows a preternatural inclination for cultural sonic juxtaposition.

All this may or may not matter when Eureka opens its doors. Backstories are priceless, but dinner is expensive. The only persuasive counterclaim McGarry can present&mdashthat he belongs not among the prodigies but among the league of extraordinary men&mdashwill be presented on this counter to 16 guests, five nights a week. And so as he gazes into a now mostly empty dish where radishes once were, peering into his reflection in the shimmering pho broth at the bottom he made with radish and porcini mushrooms, he sighs. &ldquoI'm going to be here very late today testing,&rdquo he says. &ldquoIt&rsquos not there yet. But it&rsquoll get there soon. It has to.&rdquo

Watch McGarry cook live from our Test Kitchen in NYC here.


The Moment of Youth

10/18/16 By Joshua David Stein

Slender fingers adeptly cradling a pair of offset tweezers, 17-year-old chef Flynn McGarry placed a sliver of pickled black radish on a small glass plate already laden with myriad radishes. &ldquoI&rsquove tested this dish 10 times now,&rdquo McGarry says, &ldquoI feel like it can&rsquot just be a radish dish. Maybe it needs scallops.&rdquo McGarry is opening his first permanent New York City restaurant, an eight-seat tasting menu counter in the back of Kava, a Meatpacking District coffee shop. Like last year&rsquos pop-up that ran for six months out of a Manhattan catering company, this one will also be called Eureka.

The name could be a nod to the state motto of California&mdashMcGarry hails from the San Fernando Valley&mdashbut it probably has more to do with Archimedes and his sudden stroke of bathtub genius. If that&rsquos the case, what a funny title. McGarry, who began cooking at age 10 and appeared on the cover of the New York Times magazine at age 15, is indisputably a prodigy. In fact, that was the one-word headline of the 2012 New Yorker piece about him.

But, as Andrew Solomon notes in his book, Far from the Tree, there is a vast difference between prodigy and genius. &ldquoThe designation prodigy usually reflects timing, while genius reflects the ability to add something of value to human consciousness.&rdquo Or, as the French poet Raymond Radiguet, himself a child prodigy, put it even more puckishly, &ldquoChild prodigies exist just as there are extraordinary men. But they are rarely the same.&rdquo

With his first restaurant, an open-ended engagement with the city&rsquos notoriously unforgiving dining scene, McGarry is striving to leave the ranks of prodigy and join the brotherhood of extraordinary men. &ldquoIt&rsquos been so many years of just straight talking about the age,&rdquo he says, not without exasperation. &ldquoSure, the age might get people in the door, but it&rsquos not enough to make the restaurant sustainable, obviously.&rdquo

And so, he turns to the radish, one of the 16 courses a diner will be served for $160, gratuity included. In his callow youth, McGarry was liable to turn radishes into a pixel of a larger overwrought plate&mdashthe Times mentions ember-roasted carrot gelée with smoked egg yolk, compressed mango, pickled mustard seeds and coffee-pickled carrots. Of late, he has discovered the joy of simplicity. &ldquoThroughout the years, my cooking has gotten a lot more simple. At first, you have that whole thing of wanting to show every single thing you know,&rdquo he admits, &ldquonow, it&rsquos become more mature. There&rsquos not so much flash and bang.&rdquo

As a writer in my thirties, it&rsquos tempting to turn every otherwise normal utterance from McGarry into fodder for a sort of moralistic and paternalistic dig against youth. And, surely, many have succumbed to the temptation. Not a piece has been written that hasn&rsquot used his tender age as ridiculed ballast against his modernist technique. And, sure, when McGarry announces he&rsquoll be moving from Prospect Heights, where he lives now, to the Meatpacking District with a world-weary sigh&mdash&ldquoI just can&rsquot do the commute anymore,&rdquo he says, &ldquoit&rsquos 35 minutes each way&rdquo&mdashit&rsquos hard not to roll one&rsquos eyes. But then he lays out his schedule: Monday, 6 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday, 7 a.m. to 2:30 a.m. Sunday, 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. The guy deserves to be taken seriously.

If his food falls flat, well then he is not unlike hundreds of other chefs in the city who have tried to accomplish what he&rsquos up to at Eureka. And if his food soars, it shall do so independent of the dendrochronology of the sapling in question.

McGarry, about whom so many words have been written, is neither naive nor jaded. He is, rather, both boyishly enthusiastic and slightly guarded. For every feint, every query about how it is indeed possible for a youth so green to sound through food emotions so profound&mdashfor that is truly what makes $160 an unlaughable sum for dinner&mdashMcGarry has a ready parry. Dismissing the paucity of his life experience as a wellspring for his menu, he says, &ldquoCooking is an art form, and as an art form, it comes from a place you can&rsquot explain.&rdquo

And he has a point. There are many older chefs who have not yet located the aquifer that connects life experience with culinary expression. Samely, there is no reason a youth like McGarry couldn&rsquot have happened upon those reservoirs at an earlier point in his life than most.

In fact, the majority of the young chef&rsquos life experience has been culinary experience, making the Venn Diagram of Kitchen Life and Life Life particularly oblong. After his initial well-chronicled experiments at age 10, he has since worked at Alma in Los Angeles and staged throughout Europe. This is, of course, in addition to running his occasional pop-up and running interference from constant critique.

On McGarry&rsquos last trip back east, he was the subject of some quite ugly and revealing criticism from a grisled cohort who objected to his using the word chef. &ldquoChef is something you earn through years of being beaten and shit on and taught by some of the greats,&rdquo wrote chef David Santos in an Instagram screed. The statement is at once largely true and profoundly ignorant, and the extent to which it is true belies the ignorance that toxifies the restaurant industry like algal bloom. McGarry has been savaged by the press, most notably the New York Post&rsquos resident curmudgeon, Steve Cuozzo, at whose mention the chef shudders slightly.

McGarry, who was rather severely bullied at school, has built compensatory defenses. That&rsquos one reason, he says, for the tasting menu format. &ldquoI know people are going to come in here with their own prejudices and search for things to hate,&rdquo he tells me, &ldquoso if I can control the menu, then at least I can make sure I&rsquom giving them the best experience I can.&rdquo

And if one allows for homeschool, unschool and Waldorf pedagogy, the kitchen, too, has proven fertile ground for education. Through Eureka, McGarry is hitting nearly all of Howard Gardner&rsquos multiple intelligences. For instance, learning the ins and outs of New York Labor Law. &ldquoIt&rsquos a lot easier to own a business as a minor than it is to be employed by one,&rdquo he says. He&rsquos also mastered food costs and payroll. &ldquoBefore it was just sort of end of the day, I would be like, &lsquoOh great, we have money left,&rsquo or like, &lsquoWe didn't make any money.&rsquo But now we&rsquore running a business.&rdquo

On the interpersonal tip, he&rsquos learned how to read a room. &ldquoSo much of this is in the physical experience,&rdquo he says, &ldquoand every night changes, because when it's such a small group, it really depends on everyone's attitude and the vibe.&rdquo And, scrolling through a playlist which transitions from Brandy&rsquos &ldquoTalk About Our Love&rdquo to Tame Impala&rsquos &ldquoKeep On Lying&rdquo to G-Unit&rsquos &ldquoWanna Get to Know You,&rdquo McGarry shows a preternatural inclination for cultural sonic juxtaposition.

All this may or may not matter when Eureka opens its doors. Backstories are priceless, but dinner is expensive. The only persuasive counterclaim McGarry can present&mdashthat he belongs not among the prodigies but among the league of extraordinary men&mdashwill be presented on this counter to 16 guests, five nights a week. And so as he gazes into a now mostly empty dish where radishes once were, peering into his reflection in the shimmering pho broth at the bottom he made with radish and porcini mushrooms, he sighs. &ldquoI'm going to be here very late today testing,&rdquo he says. &ldquoIt&rsquos not there yet. But it&rsquoll get there soon. It has to.&rdquo

Watch McGarry cook live from our Test Kitchen in NYC here.


Watch the video: Best Ramen with Egg#shorts#mukbang (January 2022).