when I returned, I found a down-on-his luck Jimmy Sears in Bigfoot's
kitchen. Bigfoot had been eating dinner at the Gotham recently, and had
experienced some kind of culinary epiphany. Suddenly, he wanted a real
chef, and Sears, whose restaurant in the Hampton's had just gone under,
was sleeping on floors around Manhattan, dodging creditors and ex-
girlfriends, and in general, going through a rough patch—prime time for
a Bigfoot recruiting effort.
Jimmy was a brilliant cook. He'd come up with Brendan Walsh at
Arizona 206, and the food he turned out in his brief time working the
Bigfoot mines was so good, I'd stay after my shift was over, sit at the bar
and order dinner and pay for it. Seeing what Jimmy could do in the
kitchen really inspired me; I'd been slinging hash for way too long, and
tasting a real demi-glace again, eating new, exciting food, seeing new
presentations, made me remember what I'd enjoyed about food in the
first place. I worked hard for Jimmy, and after knocking out a few
thousand meals, going skiing together a few times, we'd become pals,
and we determined that when Jimmy and Bigfoot's relationship came to
an end, as it inevitably would, I'd keep an eye on the talented Mr Sears,
maybe come along for the ride when he made his next move.
That clash of wills was not long in coming. A few months later, Jimmy's
period of saloon exile was over; he landed the exec chef gig at the
Supper Club, a huge restaurant/nightclub/disco on West 47th Street, and
began hiring cooks. I was one of the first to get the call.
It was a plum job to be executive chef at the Supper Club. Hell, it was a
plum job doing anything at the Supper Club. Perk-o-delic. The main
dining room sat about 200, with private banquettes and booths along the
walls, a dance floor, and a stage from which a twelve-piece orchestra
played '40s swing music. There was an upstairs mezzanine—a holdover
from the Club's previous incarnation as a Broadway theater—which sat
another 150 or so, with a second bar, and off to the side, also on the
second floor, was a smaller venue, a cabaret-cum-VIP lounge called the