New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1920-05-02
At THE atpper left is Chef
4 Louis Sores, of the Bill
more. The table shoaun Is IN
the cold meats department of
the Biltmore kitchens

more. Ihe table shO1Un Is IN
the cold meats department of
the Biltmore kitchens
know more Of how he makes battle
ships out of icing and log cabins of
BUTTER They stand around him,
qulzzing him about a salad they had
with their dinner the night before,
and he takes them to one corner
of the kitchen and explains in detail
just how he conceived the idea and
how he carried it out.
Chef Leony has studied cooking
in Paris, in Madrid and in South
America. He claims the distinction
of never having failed to produce
a single dish requested by for
elgner stopping at the Commodore.
1t is the unwritten law of every
large kitchen in the larger hotels in
New York City that the cook, or as
sistant cook, who allows as much as q
lead pencil mark to remain on the I
floor after he sees it is discharged
without further notice. Cleanliness
is paramount. Cleanliness is the
very life of the profession. Cleanli-
ness overshadows speed, even, and
when you consider that at the Aston
Hotel the following course of ban
ouet attended by one thousand per-
sons is not placed on the stove until
the last two spoonsful or forksful
of fooo Of the preceding course is
consumed by the diner, you will
understand that speed is not entirely
an overlooked matter.
White Silk Gloves
But the cleanliness to which these
men who glide about on the shining
floors of the kitchens adhere is al
most unbelievable unless one sees it
with his own eyes.
The chef at the Hotel Plaza sup
plies his men with white silk gloves
Not one cook may touch frying
pan or skillet or water boiler or
a fork until he has slipped on his
gloves. His nails must he polished |
and manicured daily. To insure /
against an infringement of this
order, the chef goes each day to
each cook in his employ and in
spects his nails.
| walked into the kitchens of the
Plaza the other day just in time to
witness this daily inspection. 1t car
ried me back to army days, when the
commanding officer came each day,
instructing every man to turn over
his cot and throw out his buds and |
show whether or not he was keep |
ing himself in good trim.
Like Military Inspection
This Plaza chef scrutinized the
finger nails of his men with the care
given to tuned-up prize fighter by
his Jealous manager. He took their
hands and turned them over, and on
one occasion he frowned and said to
the owner of set of nails that to |
the ordinary person would appear !
splendid enough to belong to any |
matinee idol, "they aren't shined |
right. Better clean up little. And
don't let this happen again"
Throughout the Plaza cooking de-
partments, the rooms of which ex-
tend for long half block in
each direction, the walls and ceilings
are snowy white. The floors are of |
plain pine, washed down five times
each day until they appear to be
wearing away under the soap and
cloths. The wood is washed so clean
that it throws off the odor of the
forest, and at it's edges, where the
Dashboard joins it, hot water is
thrown constantly by an automatic
spray operated by a man whose
work it is to keep the edges Of the
room steaming throughout the day.
Why is this?
You know as much about it as
anybody. The chef in charge will
tell you it is simply matter of pre-
caution. No chances taken, he will
say.
After you have placed your rolls
in the oven the next time, consider
that at the Hotel Biftmore each day