Feels like the first time

Art Culinaire, Winter, 2004 by Carol M. Newman

He's back, but only for a brief second. "Sorry, hon ... hang on just a minute."

"WE DON'T USE PACKETS."

"Still there? Be right with you."

"WHY isn't there any copy paper in here? Can't we order the right supplies?"

"That's right. Cubes. In the bowls."

"Sorry about that. Now where were we?"

His namesake restaurant, just over a year old, a long ride from the home he maintains in Marin, California, has just been named the 2004 Best New Restaurant in America by the James Beard Foundation. It's an honor any chef on the block (or strip) would covet. And it went to the elder statesman from California. It's the first restaurant in Las Vegas ever to have won this title--impressive, since the competition continually raises the stakes.

We heard Bradley Ogden has been working seven days a week to get this gig off the ground--that's 12 hour days that don't end until after midnight. We believed it when we called the direct kitchen line on a random Tuesday night at 11:30pm PST.

A voice from Vegas: "Hello, kitchen."

"Hi, is Bradley there?"

"Speaking."

That said it all. But we wanted to know more.

So we made a pilgrimage to Sin City to visit Mr. Ogden out of his indigenous coastal habitat. What we found is a man who "doesn't mind the desert," who does indeed work hours a stagiaire might, with a weakness for Krispy Kremes, and whose golf handicap has climbed as his time in the kitchen has increased.

Bradley's son, Bryan, works in the kitchen with Dad and teases him incessantly--Bryan just doesn't let up. If it's not about the excessive donut intake--then it's about anything else that might dig. The banter between the two is akin to a vaudeville act.

Bryan was temporarily working the pastry station when we visited--slicing up a carrot cake. He plates Pop a slab and Bradley eats every bit while expediting; it's his lunch and dinner, along with endless cups of black coffee and a taste of what comes off the line. In one smooth sequence he finishes off his cake, scrapes his plate and plops it on the dish rack. Then he whirls around on his heels and it's back to the tickets. "We need three rib eyes. Two without potatoes. Must be on Atkins ..."

From the line, "Chef, what's Atkins?"

Without looking up, the other four executive sous chefs respond in unison, "It's the no carb thing."

The line here is a youthful bunch. The 'fellas' or 'guys' as Bradley refers to them, share something in common--they've spent time in the kitchen of Charlie Trotter's. All take direction well, an admirable quality. All are enterprising; each hands me his business card. There's Sven Mede and Adam Sobel, Gerald Chinn and Jeffrey Mauro--and of course, Bryan Ogden. Adam reveals that he had two wishes. The first: to get a new car. The second: to contribute to Art Culinaire. Both came true this day.

Bradley accepted the position at Caesars Palace under two conditions: 1) if the name Bradley Ogden was on the door, he'd have total control of the restaurant, and 2) he'd be working in the kitchen.

Certainly this is not the Bay Area, but if Ogden could take it with him, then he has. The space, designed by San Rafael, California's Engstrom Design Group, seems set among the redwoods, or rather 8,500 square feet of materials that include redwood beams. When the doors are shut you can almost imagine this restaurant situated somewhere serene like Tiburon or Mill Valley. But absent is the cry of the red tail hawk, replaced by cries of sorrow or joy from the gaming tables that flank the restaurant's perimeter. Regardless, it's comfortable here and after observing Bradley orchestrating the ebb and flow of the restaurant, it's obvious he's eased into this role; his effortless manner sets the tone.