Plate and Goblet: A night with Chef Paul

Editor's note: This month's Plate & Goblet is a special holiday remembrance of famed local chef Paul Elbling, who died earlier this year. Our regular Plate & Goblet will resume in January.

Since Chef Paul Elbling died in July, the tributes have been abundant. He's been lauded not only as the culinary pioneer who brought French cuisine to Richmond in 1971, but as the philanthropist and community benefactor who founded the French Food Festival and supported numerous charitable causes.

The world-renowned chef, who lived with his late wife, Marie, in the Mooreland Farms area of Henrico, was also an Algerian War hero. Not long after meeting him, I learned that he was flying back to France for an awards ceremony, where he would receive the Croix de Guerre. I had the pleasure of sitting down to talk with him about the honor – among other topics – and of writing about him for the Citizen. It was always a delight to visit Paul at his restaurant, La Petite France – a restaurant that would become the scene of one of my daughter Lanie's best evenings ever.

In 2006, as a senior in high school, Lanie won a regional teen chef competition despite a handicap: the other contestants had all worked in restaurant kitchens, and were experienced with commercial-grade gas stoves. Lanie had zero experience at both.

As the mid-Atlantic champion, she was now heading to nationals, and needed to quickly get familiar with gas stoves. After she'd enlisted a couple gas-stove families she knew to "let" her cook them a magnificent dinner as practice (as you can imagine, this was quite well-received), I asked Chef Paul if he'd consider letting Lanie hang out in the restaurant one night.

"Of course!" was his answer. We ended up scheduling her night with Chef Paul, appropriately enough, during the week of her 18th birthday.

As I recall, Lanie got some grief from her soccer coach when she told her she was skipping practice that night – but Lanie didn't care. When I dropped her off at La Petite after school, I told her to call me the instant Paul seemed impatient with her, or that she felt she might be in the way. I was sure she'd get an hour or two with Paul at most before the kitchen got too busy and he would want her out.

But I never heard from Lanie, and finally went to La Petite at 9, when the kitchen closed. Paul was just sitting down with his evening glass of wine, and immediately launched into lavish praise for Lanie's work.

When Lanie emerged from the kitchen, she was ecstatic. Paul had not only given her cooking tips and some tasks to do in the kitchen, but he'd also let her cook herself dinner.

With the leftovers tucked under her arm, she joined me in thanking Paul profusely, and we headed home. Lanie talked non-stop for the entire ride – clearly on a high. Once we were home, she was still so excited she had to find her sister and provide her with a blow-by-blow of the evening as well.

By the time she finished describing the night to Leah, I was in bed reading. Still trying unsuccessfully to come down from the clouds, Lanie flopped on the bed beside me and sighed dreamily.
"Mommy," she exclaimed, "that was the best birthday present I've ever had!"

Lanie went on to win second place at nationals, and the prize of a year of culinary school. And while I know the practice sessions at her friends' houses helped considerably, I would venture that Chef Paul's coaching – and especially the confidence he gave her – was even more of a factor in her success.

So when I see and hear all the well-deserved accolades showered on Chef Paul, I nod and smile knowingly to myself. But I'm thinking not of his culinary accomplishments, or his Guinness world records, or his international reputation. I'm savoring the memory of a euphoric Lanie flopping down next to me in bed, suspended in a haze of pure joy.

Aside from an enthusiastic thank-you note, Paul received no awards for taking Lanie under his wing that evening. But he gave an 18-year-old foodie the thrill of a lifetime – and a memory that she no doubt replayed again and again in years to come.

Sadly, after that evening, the years left to Lanie were all too few; her life was tragically cut short at age 24. But I like to think that she was waiting at the gate with Marie to meet Paul when he joined them in the next world.

And if there are fully-equipped kitchens and well-stocked pantries in heaven (and why wouldn't there be?), something tells me that ambrosia has lost its stature as the food of the gods. Because Lanie and Chef Paul have gained a following, and together they're whipping up delicacies from soufflé to roast duck to escargot (and knowing Lanie's powers of persuasion, perhaps even some French/Asian fusion).

Ambrosia?

Bah! Overrated!