Extracting Goodness - The Art of Scarpetta

Scott Conant readily admits that he never imagined his life would turn out this way. It's not that he didn't have ambition, because he did--aspirations that far exceeded the boundaries of the small Connecticut town in which he was raised.

Goals to not only create his own path in this life but also get there in the name of goodness. Goodness that would eventually bring him success and fulfillment, just like a great dish brings a smile to a diner's face as that last piece of sauce-soaked bread makes its way around the plate and into the mouth, leaving one happy and satiated. Scott is not unsatisfied with the way things are turning out. He's thrilled with the success of Scarpetta, humbled even, but he knows there's more to come. "Life is this amazing commodity," he explains, "It's handed to you on a plate, and then it's up to you to make something of it." And like his recipes, success is a simple equation of taking a passion and making the most of it. In Scott's case, he uses food as a means to his endgame: extracting the goodness out of every ingredient and presenting it for the diner's enjoyment. "There is no manipulation involved," he warns. "The idea is to take something, like a tomato or a piece of quail, and totally focus on what will make it great. And for it to evolve to another level, from a flavor perspective, it's not a cerebral effort but a soulful one." It fully circles back to his theory about how everyone has the opportunity to succeed if they use the right tools. "It's the same with food," he explains.

"How do I create 13 different flavors with one zucchini? It depends on when I take it off the fire in the cooking process. It's a progression from a completely raw state, to adding a little bit of salt and olive oil and so on, to the final step when it is completely burnt. That's how I think about everything: as an evolution to the next level."
Scott first recognized his need to evolve the definition of Italian cooking as an 18-year-old--a "young punk kid," he says--who had moved to New York City in 1990 and was working at San Domenico. There, he experienced true Italian cuisine for the first time--not the kind he grew up on, but authentic recipes. Although he couldn't yet express it, he envisioned an opportunity to take Italian cooking to a new level, infusing classic peasant cuisine and "Alta Cucina" principles with new American methods.

He set about gaining a level of maturity and confidence in his cooking by carving out an education built on his own successes and failures. He has never worked with a great chef because he didn't want the influence, the bias; he wanted the experience of owning his craft so that it would be pure. Not that Scott didn't learn from good people along the way; he did, and many of them remain by his side in the kitchen today.

Now the focus turns back to widespread goals, where, with food as the means, Scott sets
about turning the other cogs in motion. He likens his restaurant to a wheel, the three major

spokes that hold it together being the menu, the atmosphere, and the service. He takes an approach similar to that of extracting the best out of food and applies it to the look of his restaurant. "Take wood, for example," he offers. "How many different types of wood are there, how many different stains can be applied to the wood, and ultimately how do I create the best sense of comfort for the customer by using the right wood to extract warmth in the restaurant space?" He focuses on the positive, hoping to evoke the enjoyment of a well-cooked meal in a comfortable space, comfortable enough for a guest to sop up the last bit of sauce with bread--the act of scarpetta--and feel right at home. "The biggest compliment I can get is to watch a guest who previously entered the restaurant having a bad day leave with a smile on his face at the end of his meal." Scott is not trying to suspend reality; he's only trying to make it better by bringing out the best in everyone. And that, most importantly, extents directly into the kitchen.

"You can extract the good in people by giving them the opportunity to succeed, not fail," Scott says. He has had the good fortune to surround himself with staff who are more like a good group of friends, a house of brothers. The atmosphere in the kitchen isn't lax--it's hard and hard-working--but it's as convivial as the atmosphere in the main dining room, largely due to a willingness to do the job right. It's a family because, in Scott's mind, the ultimate goal is about pleasing the customer, not a chef 's own ego. The team effort keeps everything running. "It's about the server who spots an empty water glass and performs the service of providing happiness by filling it," Scott explains. His commitment to his staff is paramount and reciprocal.

Scott takes great pride watching the people around him grow, and he is happy to provide them with not only the right tools but also the opportunity:"At certain points in my own career, I have felt the frustration of not being able to achieve my potential; I never want my staff to feel that way." The loyalty factor goes beyond the paycheck. Scott can recite each staff member's resume by heart, probably because he's been part of most of their culinary journeys. Scott has worked with some of his staff for more than a decade. And he often feels responsible for them. Once, a few years back, Scott used his own rent check to take care of his staff when one establishment at which they worked could not pay them. Loyalty is a two-way street, and it also means the right placement of staff and the nurturing of relationships. Scott is careful to do both.

Take José Atelio Ramos, a sous-chef at Scarpetta. Scott fondly remembers the first time he watched Atelio cook, 12 years ago, when they both worked at Chianti. What impressed Scott most was the way Atelio used his hands: "He just had that touch, and even then I knew we would end up doing something together in the future." They started by jointly reworking the recipes at Chianti and garnered a great review in the New York Times. When Scott moved on, Atelio moved with him. Today, Scott trusts Atelio like he trusts his right hand. Then there is Rosendo Lozano, who started with Scott five years ago as a pastry prep. It was Atelio who pointed out Lozano's skill and had him first moved to the fish station and later the meat station. When Scott decided to move him to the pasta station, he nailed that too. "He's a natural," says Scott. "When I have Rosendo and Atelio in the kitchen, I never worry, even if a food critic is in the dining room; I always know they are going to put the best product out there." Ultimately, it's the team effort that moves
the food forward. Scott has taught them things and they, in turn, bring their own ideas to the table.

"We discuss improving or creating recipes together. Atelio has this uncanny ability to remember a dish we did ten years ago and fill in the recipe blanks as we recreate it." Ryan Morrison, chef de cuisine, is the most laidback guy in the kitchen and another Scott Conant veteran. "He's great at interpreting whatever I throw at him--seasoning, tweaking, tasting, constantly trying to improve on everything. He's a great example of someone who not only appreciates the opportunity but uses it for the benefit of everyone in the kitchen."
Case in point: agua fresca, Spanish for "fresh cold" waters, a refreshing beverage of blended fruit, sugar, water, and ice. To Scott, agua fresca is a metaphor for the camaraderie in the kitchen. Ryan makes a different flavor each night, special for the kitchen staff, to cool things off as they work behind the hot stoves. "This is Ryan's thing; he's the maestro of the agua fresca," notes Scott, smiling. "He's constantly trying to train the other guys to make it and then adds his own fancy touches. Everyone has a favorite flavor. Mine happens to be the coconut, lemongrass, condensed milk, Coco Lopez, sugar, ginger, and rice combo!"

While some things happen behind the scenes, the family feel of Scott's restaurant extends to the front of the house, where Giovanni Giambrone holds court. Giovanni is a major part of the service spoke in the restaurant wheel. "He's Italian, he belongs here, he is the face of Scarpetta," Scott explains. "I love the way he greets guests with an open sense of welcome, which imparts the overall vibe of the place, that this is what we do and we spend a lot of time doing it, happily, for your benefit." Just because Scarpetta falls below 23rd Street doesn't mean service is compromised, and Giovanni is the perfect example of this--his resume lists the likes of Le Cirque, Lespinasse, Daniel, and Picholine. "The combination of his background at these amazing classic French establishments, where they really know how to run a restaurant, and his own Italian way of family is lethal!"

So has enough goodness and goodwill been created at Scarpetta for more of the same to follow? Of course. Scott has plans--big plans--but new restaurants will have to reflect the space and place in which they are located as uniquely as Scarpetta does. Scott loves to travel, so setting up shop in other cities is completely in line with his nature, as long as the goal remains the same, the common thread being the ability to please. "Food allows me
to communicate what I do with the rest of the world. I try to focus on that. Often it's not about what I do, but what I don't do. It's about lasering in and concentrating on what makes a place unique."

Miami was the first opportunity Scott was presented with to try to please a new audience. With Scarpetta now open at the Fontainebleau Resort Hotel in Miami Beach, Scott immediately recognized not only the necessity of menu alterations but also an adjustment to the temperament of the Miami diner. "People in Miami are looking for something a little honest, humble, sincere, and unique," Scott says.

"It's about capturing the inherent spirit of a city and catering to it, and I am looking forward to this new adventure."

Scott Conant has the distinctive personal quality to take life as it comes and make the best of what he has. He can't tell you his five-year goals, only his daily aspirations: to continue to do something he loves and provide opportunities for others who might not otherwise have them.