Eating Gerard
Gerard Pangaud--culinary genius, business mediocrity, kitchen tyrant--is a one-man French cliche. And that's one reason his American students love him.
Cover Story
Gerard Pangaud--culinary genius, business mediocrity, kitchen tyrant--is a one-man French cliche. And that's one reason his American students love him.
Photographs by Pilar Vergara
Everyone calls Gerard Pangaud "Chef." Not "Gerard." Not "Mr. Pangaud." Not even "Monsieur Pangaud." Just "Chef." Like "Maestro." Or "Professor." Or "Swami."
Right now, Chef's pose looks a little like a swami's. He's in a small restaurant kitchen, holding up his hands for a class full of lesser gastronomes to see. Not that you'd know it from the enchanted looks on the assembled faces, but the hands themselves--the small but strong hands of a stocky man, their color dulled by a light dusting of flour--are not, in this particular instance, of utmost importance. It's what he does with them: There's no space between his fingers.
And as he plops a slab of dough onto a metal counter, D.C.'s only two-Michelin-star chef explains, "When working a dough, it's best to keep tight your fingers." Keeping tight their own fingers around pencils, class members jot this wisdom down. When a famous chef talks, foodies listen.
Twenty-one people have wiggled into the kitchen for this week's class: Pangaud; his two young staffers; his volunteer assistant, Jim Anderes; and 17 students, all of them amateur cooks. This makes roughly a dozen more people than the kitchen can comfortably accommodate. ... Continued
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