The first time I met Chef Brosnamiel was on my porch.
I was not aware of the fact that my visitor had arrived - my cats were silent in their greetings and I thought I was alone with my work.
The painting I was working on that morning was becoming a struggle. Time for a break. A cup of tea and a look around the house…sometimes this helped when a painting went into stall mode.
I went outside and sitting on the porch was Chef Brosnamiel! I recognized him by his costume. He was just looking at a piece of driftwood as if in a trance, but I knew better, I was aware of the kitchen berating that was about to begin.
Chef Brosnamiel always dressed in disguise; I read many an article in "Gourmet" magazine about the great man and his eclectic ways. He was a secret Chef who was hired privately to come into the kitchens of household cooks and refit their kitchens with fresh herbs and spices, rearrange the pots and pans, and restock the larder with the staples of a prideful pantry.
A chef was a luxury only the very wealthy could afford. I was able to hire this kitchen maestro because I had just come into a large sum of money from an inheritance and it was burning a hole in my pocket. I needed an extravagance and this was just the thing - a mystery chef in my home! I like to cook but it is not my strongest skill. My guest was dressed in outlandish Halloweenesque attire. I did notice that the sheet he wore was a very fine Pima cotton - crisp, clean and white. He wore a wooden mask which looked like a sheep with big intense eyes, drooped and pointed ears, and a set of wooden hands.
I knew the chef had a phobia about germs. There was a stipulation in the contract which stated the chef would never touch anything. I was required to sign off on that demand and I, of course, complied.
Chef Brosnamiel did not speak English so when it was time to go to the kitchen he summoned his interpreter.
The first thing that happened was the chef changed his sheet to a mid-brown color and changed his wooden hands to a much broader set. I was not allowed to watch the costume change. The tall amorphously sheeted man began his inspection of my kitchen ordering me (via his interpreter) to empty out all the herbs and spices into the trash.
I did as I was told and we went on to the next task. Everything was omitted from the pantry. He explained that a fresh slate was required in order to obtain flavor and optimum essence in cooking. He moved on to the pots and pans and spent a long time gazing at them. I was sure that he would have me throw out every last one of my old war-wounded pots and my less seasoned pans.
Many minutes later he looked up and explained his slow inspection (via the interpreter). "These are quality cooking vessels but they must be seasoned and not used at high temperatures. Your kitchen equipment is like your hands; they must be moisturized and used with care. The soul of the food is in the hands of this cookware and everything must be combined with care and passion otherwise the result will be gruel."
He taught me to season my cookware and store it properly; we bought fresh herbs and re-stocked the pantry with only the best tinned tomatoes, Spanish olive oil, fine Italian dried pasta, White Truffle oil, salt cured capers, Mexican vanilla, and fragrant Basmati rice.
My kitchen was becoming a cooking haven! I was happy about this but mostly I was curious what Chef Brosnamiel looked like under that sheet and mask!
I paid for this service and was not going to be intimidated by this grandiose chef! So as he was preparing to leave I tugged at the sheet and pulled it off! Chef Brosnamiel was a woman!!! A frumpy, middle-aged woman! She pulled off her mask and bristled out the door muttering "merde" under her breath with the interpreter scuttling behind her. Off they went - speeding away in their white Town car.
I decided to keep this a secret, a woman chef posing as a man. I needn’t ruin her reputation, I was happy to know the truth, besides the chef refunded my entire rental purchase! I had no hard feelings.
Several months later I read an article in the New York Times about Chef Brosnamiel.
The chef had admitted she was a woman, she was moving back to France to start her own cooking school and Bistro, it will be a themed restaurant and all the wait staff will be wearing the costumes worn by the Chef throughout the years. Wait staff serving soup in sheets!
I need to plan a trip to France!
