Farewell to a Master Chef: I’m Dreaming of a David Bouley Souffle

In this tribute to David Bouley, who died February 12 from a heart attack at age 70., the author credits Bouley with making four-star cuisine free of pretention and relatable for non-foodies. This story was originally published in City Journal. 

I’ve never been a foodie, but in the late 1980s and 90s I was a restaurant gadabout, thanks to an extended gig as publicist for the Zagat Survey guides, which exposed me to some of New York’s finer eateries and uber-chefs. That included recurring visits to such storied spots as Lutece, Quilted Giraffe, Le Cirque, Le Bernardin, Chanterelle, Grammercy Tavern, Montrachet, Daniel and others.

While always enjoyable, I sometimes felt the rarified food was wasted on me, especially multi-course offerings and tasting menus with elaborate preparations or exotic adds like figs and avocado oil. At one such endless dinner at seafood palace Le Bernardin, my wife and I kept passing our plates of raw and slathered fish to another couple so as not to appear ungracious to our server for comping us so many extras.

And then there was Bouley. David Bouley’s farmhouse-like French outpost in Tribeca was gourmet to the max but without pretense or intimidation. From its simple, organic ingredients and intense flavors to the unharried pace of service and apple-infused country ambiance, Bouley proved on every visit the magical, transporting power of a great restaurant meal. Even a food hick like me was a believer.

Food critics credited Bouley’s skills in reduction, bringing complex stocks and sauces to perfect concentrations, along with minimalist use of oils and fats to keep dishes light.

I first dined there around 1990 after Bouley surpassed Andre Soltner’s formidable Lutece with the highest-rated Zagat food rating (soon it would be most popular as well). It had already become New York’s “It” restaurant following the 1987 stock market crash, especially among Wall Street bankers and lawyers who often chose Bouley for their celebratory deal dinners and wine auctions. What struck me about the place was that you could spend four hours at table, consuming dish after inventive dish, totally unaware of the passage of time and still never feeling full, even when they brought out the airy goat cheese souffle and homemade chocolates. Getting up to leave was like an act of levitation.

Food critics credited Bouley’s skills in reduction, bringing complex stocks and sauces to perfect concentrations, along with minimalist use of oils and fats to keep dishes light. I called it wizardry, particularly when invited to visit his brightly lit kitchen during dinner service and watch chef deftly move among the stations, pausing to adjust a seasoning or suggest a different garnish to his devout team, while showing off his newest gadgets and equipment. Backstage chaos at “The Bear” it wasn’t.

To spend time with Bouley away from the line was to be in the company of a visionary and passionate artist, whose handsome Dirk Bogarde looks and twinkle were captivating. But he was also a proprietor with poor time management and operating discipline.  He could wax eloquently for 30 minutes on the sourcing of a crab or peach, but forget an important appointment or deadline. 

He was ahead of the curve on many trends taken for granted now, including the need for restaurant kitchens to be sensitive to food allergies and for diners to avoid processed foods.

He was ahead of the curve on many trends taken for granted now, including the need for restaurant kitchens to be sensitive to food allergies and for diners to avoid processed foods. He championed Asian gastronomy and touted the wonders of Wegmans supermarkets 25 years before New Yorkers recognized the name. And he advocated for wellness menus with plant-based foods, which years later turned into a program called “The Chef and the Doctor” that included input from physicians and nutritionists.

He closed his original restaurant at the height of its popularity in June 1996 – as a coda I convinced a New Yorker writer to cover the moment, attended by Bianca Jagger and other big shots for a blow-out “Last Supper” that brought down the curtain. His goal was to create an ambitious culinary emporium that included a cooking school and nutrition center, but he settled for a series of follow-on restaurants, Bouley Bakery and Danube. While neither reached the same heights as his earlier namesake, both drew critics’ raves and loyal followings (highlight memory: while having dinner at the Bakery one evening, the woman at our next table broke her tooth on a pistachio shell in one of the restaurant’s signature breads; the maître d’ gave her a tiny gift box to deposit the cracked tooth and she finished her meal chopping happily on one side).

His legacy was further enhanced helping lead efforts to keep Ground Zero responders well fed in the months following 9/11, becoming known as King of the Pile around the rubble-strewn debris field.

Bouley never achieved the commercial success of his rock-star peers including Eric Ripert, Thomas Keller, Daniel Boulud or Jean-Georges Vongerichten. But in addition to helping break the mold of what four-star cuisine should taste like, he led the movement in farm-to-table restaurants and made haute dining relatable to non-food snobs. Who else could have gotten me to enjoy a goat cheese souffle?