August 23, 2009

Written by: Vince McConeghy

It has been remarkable to witness the progression of Paul Jenkins' career path in the local food service industry – from Enfant Terrible to Éminence Grise; from the grill station of a hot dog stand to co-ownership of one of the region’s most consistently excellent restaurants.

Jenkins punctuated the moment yesterday in victory at the third installment of Nickel City Chef over worthy challenger, Bruce Wieszala, a chef of heady ambition and style bound to leave his mark on the local industry once he has paid forward all the bumps and bruises Jenkins already has endured on his way to the top.

There were no preseason excuses when both chefs squared off in competition, tethered to a tri-fold secret ingredient: cream, yogurt and quark cheese, supplied by East Otto dairy White Cow. The crowd was rowdy and respectful of the pressure-filled situation, composed with many food service professionals from various sectors of the industry, and thus the house bar saw almost as much action as the competitors.

Most were there to see Jenkins. In a sense, the boisterous affair paid homage to his irrepressible presence. Jenkins has  minded the gap between front of the house and back of the house at Tempo Restaurant in a sparkling amalgamation of Graucho Marx-meets-Douglas MacArthur-meets Jimmy Griffin.He has, as has partner Mark Hutchinson noted, “figured it all out.” 

Jenkins' triumph was in no small part attributable to Hutchinson's adroit stewardship of Jenkins' talent.  Hutchinson has already  done it all in the restaurant business, but to recognize his colleague's unmet promise, provide the space and idiom for him to practice his craft, and then remove himself from the process and allow Tempo to achieve its lofty status is perhaps Hutchinson's most savvy business decision. 

Stated more succinctly by Hutchinson: "The best decision I ever made was to step out of the kitchen and turn it over to Paul completely.  We opened with both of us in the kitchen and that was just no going to work. It's a space where one guy can put his finger on everything and Paul worked his way around the entire place and put his stamp on it."

At Nickel City, Jenkins’ food was large and flavorful, rooted in the Mediterranean and anchored deep in the trenches of a solid technical execution. Many of his most ardent supporters never even saw the plates, congregated as they were near the bar in a fitting demonstration of the chef's magnanimity (....Go get a few drinks and let me get to work in the kitchen). They already knew what he was capable of, and  when it came time for Jenkins to offer his three courses to the judges, the graveled voice chef did not present so much as sell his bill of fare.

Wieszala’s plates were perfectly portioned and composed. He is cooking in this town for all the right reasons. Wieszala is native to the area, seasoned in larger markets, but committed to his career here. He is not yet well known to urban diners but that will change over time. This is not a town to grant celebratory status easily.  It is earned year-after-year, building a clientele from the ground up, and rewarded only after a critical mass of repeat customers fills up your restaurant on the most unexpected of evenings.

Neither chef appeared to send up a clunker, but if you roll back the tape, it was Jenkins’ Lamb Kibbeh with yogurt (and the expression on judge Elizabeth Licata’s face) that probably provided the margin of victory.

It’s a shame there is only one more episode of Nickel City Chef left. That leaves a horrible void in the Sunday schedule. For my money, I’ll take these competitors any day  over those phony millionaires who monopolize our Fall afternoons at Ralph Wilson Stadium .