Scott Warner, who earned a master’s degree in music at USC, says the two endeavors are “exactly the same”—just using different senses. “Rhythmically,” he explains, “music does to the ears what food does to the taste sensations.”
DiSpirito, who has been playing acoustic guitar since he was 11, also thinks of notes in terms of flavors. “I can articulate what I feel through flavors,” he says, “but not through music.” (Having hired a teacher to instruct him in rock, blues, and classical guitar, however, he hopes to change that soon.)
“With the craft of cooking, you have to build your chops,” says Merenda’s Luce, whose uncle is Steve Boone, bassist with the Lovin’ Spoonful. As a teenager, he studied jazz at Manhattan’s New School for Social Research. “You have to learn your scales, which are like basic techniques. Also, menu planning is very similar to putting together musical ideas. I think of a set list, almost.”
“It’s all the arts,” shrugs Keating. “It blends together.”
(In the Napa Valley, that blend even includes wine. Private Reserve, a group of prominent winemakers and enthusiasts who are anything but reserved, a few years ago released a CD loaded with such frat-party standards as “Shout” and “Wooly Bully.”)
Cooking and making music, concludes Carmellini, are “both visceral experiences. They affect people below the surface, immediately, and on a sensory and an emotional level.”
Considering the high-pressure worlds that chefs inhabit, it’s no wonder they feel the need to blow off some steam now and again. Metro Kitchen’s Boone, a major Pearl Jam fan, says he finds “pure escape” in strapping on his headphones and banging away on the drums.
For the Back Burner Blues Band, who joined forces in 1998, music is pure fun. Earlier this year, they played a fund-raiser at a home in Marin County while fellow chefs from the Bay Area whipped up small plates for the guests. So what if not everybody was appreciative. “I just love playing,” said Joey Altman, “so any opportunity to play with the band is just great, and if people are enjoying it and dancing, that’s a bonus.”
Some people actually did enjoy it. After a solid-gone version of “Route 66,” Piperade’s Gerald Hirigoyen, who was serving up warm sea scallop salad with piperade and parsley jus, showed his approval by banging a spatula against a sauté pan. “They’re pretty good,” he said. And, he marveled, “they’ve stuck together.”
“One of the main reasons this band is still together,” said Altman later on, “is that the restaurant industry is so stressful. There’s so much pulling on us, from people working for us, to diners, to our bosses, to our investors. We have to satisfy so many people, and it’s draining. Then, we come into the band and we’re playing music. It’s totally self-indulgent. We love it, it charges our batteries again, and it makes us feel like our life is not that bad.”
Back in Dallas, everybody’s batteries are charged. Richie Furay, formerly of Buffalo Springfield and Poco, has just delivered a showstopping “Kind Woman,” peaking with a gorgeous solo by Mickey Raphael, the harmonica wizard from Willie Nelson’s band. And now the place is really coming alive as singer-songwriter Rodney Crowell, a humming, strumming musical encyclopedia, takes the stage. With the first notes of “Brand New Heartache,” the tanned, trim, boot-scootin’ beauties in the audience begin dancing with a vengeance. And they show no sign of stopping. “Hey Baby,” “Long Tall Texan,” “Honky Tonk Women,” “The Last Time” ... the hits just keep on coming. Watching Fearing up there on stage, looking every bit the rock star as he trades licks with Del Grande and horns in on Crowell’s mike to harmonize on the Stones’ “It’s All Over Now,” it’s hard to imagine that he could be any happier wielding a wooden spoon. The crowd is blissfully singing along to “Twist and Shout” when fireworks suddenly come shooting up from a clearing behind the trees. People whoop with every ka-boom.
Ray Jacobi, a Mansion executive, leans over. “We were there the night The Mansion burned down,” he jokes.
Nothing burned. But on this hot, hot Texas night, there sure was a lot of cooking.
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