Beignet done that

Art Culinaire, Spring, 2004 by Carol M. Newman

He drinks his cappuccino in one shot and says, "You're only as good as your last meal."

And Zakarian tries to make every morsel at Town memorable. This is hotel dining at its finest. A far cry from the dated associations with staid music, somber quarters and sorry cuisine now constrained to cities trapped in time. In NYC, it is the boom of the 'boutique,' the new buzz word for the upper-than-up-to-date hotel. Zakarian is proud to say he's worked at, what might have been, the first of these hotel types in the city--possibly in the country--when restaurants did not belong off the lobby. That was in the late '80s at 44 in the Royalton, an Ian Schrager endeavor.

"Everything old is new. It just has to be repackaged."

Geoffrey jokes about not being very opinionated, but he is. And in between his opinions, he tries to improve his, "I'm a six, but used to be a four" golf handicap as he "continues to deteriorate." That will happen if you spend most of your time tending to the kitchen rather than the pin.

"I live and breathe the kitchen--my office is there. People get hung up on whether or not a chef is always in the kitchen. There aren't that many chefs who actually cook. They're usually expediting, screaming, or pretending to cook when there's a photo session going on--let's be honest. When I was a chef de cuisine, or a sous chef, that was my job--to cook. Now, I need to make things work financially, to make this work as entertainment, and to make sure the customers are happy. And of course, to make sure the food is great."

His second degree, Bachelor of the Arts, is in music--classical piano. Creativity must run in the Zakarian family--his father was a 'Big Band' trombone player.

"I like a lot of things. I went to France, fell in love with French women and the French lifestyle. So, when I got back from France, I told my mom I was going to be a chef. She told me if I became a chef, I'd end up marrying a waitress!"

Zakarian didn't heed his mother's warning and went for his third degree, an Associate's at the CIA. Of the CIA, he speaks candidly, "That school's all bad fashion, bad food and bad teachers. I couldn't stand it. It taught me nothing about cooking. It barely taught me how to heat up a pan. They turn out little corporate monsters. The graduates come to me and want 35 thousand. Maybe in two years I'll give someone 35 thousand, if they can show me how to heat up a pan. What the CIA did teach me, is how to network and be a real generalist in this business."

With Country open, Town's sister restaurant, Zakarian spreads himself thin. He rarely finds time to use his golf clubs these days.

"There has to be a way out. So that at 50 or 55, you enjoy your life and don't stay in a kitchen. There are plenty of people who do that and who drop dead. My work drives me, but my idea of bliss is not spending ten hours in a kitchen sauteing squid."

"I want to do something that generates a lot of money, so I don't have to continue to rely on what is a very fickle crowd, in a very difficult environment, in a very tough economy, with very small margins."