Dominique Ansel knows a thing or two about making his work go viral. On May 10, 2013 at his eponymous bakery in New York, he introduced the Cronut to the world. Within days, hundreds of people were lining up to sample his novel pastry. But he didn't just sit back and admire a job well done. "It's not a matter of making it good for the camera," Ansel says of his latest creations, which range from ice-cream s'mores to cakes so light they float inside helium balloons. "Make it good so people remember it in their heart. It's worth more than a photo."
Ansel is now head of a mini global empire, with bakeries in London and Tokyo and a second New York location, Dominique Ansel Kitchen, in Greenwich Village. He's about to launch his most ambitious project yet: 189 by Dominique Ansel, a vast 930m2 full-service restaurant and bakery in Los Angeles, spread across two floors. Its name is an homage to his first bakery in New York, located at 189 Spring Street in SoHo. "For me, Los Angeles is a very eclectic city," says Ansel, 39. For inspiration, Ansel insists on getting to know the local food scene. "To develop the menu, we use a lot of local ingredients. We like to be inspired by different communities, the people that live there and the traditions of eating," he says.
Born in Beauvais, France, and trained in the kitchens of Paris, Ansel speaks softly and quickly, his English accented with the occasional flourish en Français. He moved to New York City in 2006 to become executive pastry chef at Daniel Boulud’s restaurant Danieln having spent eight years in Paris working for chocolatier Fauchon. In 2011, with a team of four people, he decided to branch out. Two years later, he invented the Cronut.
"I have a few simple rules in the kitchen: there is no yelling, there is no screaming, there is no losing tempers, there are no swear words - that's very important for me. I believe that I am fighting against generations of abuse in the food industry." It's a philosophy, like so many things in his professional life, that's driven by Ansel's formative years. "My first couple of years in a kitchen were horrible, and I swore to myself that I'll never, ever let anyone be treated anything like this. I remember in my first year in Paris, I worked in this big kitchen where chefs were very straight and very mean. But there was this one chef who always took the time to teach me and to inspire me to be better. That probably changed my experience in the food industry."
The philosophy of openness in the kitchen hasn't just shaped how Ansel works with his staff, but also how he develops new ideas. "It's when you understand people and who they are that you really see the food they enjoy and the reason they like it," he explains. "It's about understanding the culture and people, before even thinking of a dish or cooking. I think curiosity is one of the important things when it comes to creativity."
Step one: Coat rectangles of ice cream in chocolate feuilletine and freeze.
Step two: Place warm marshmallows in ring moulds. Squeeze the ice cream in centre of marshmallows. Leave to set for one or two minutes.
Step three: For extra flavour, push applewood-smoked willow twigs into the s'mores. Leave for 30 minutes to allow the s'mores to absorb the smoke. Blowtorch or grill the s'mores to create a caramelised crust.
Curiosity is something that Ansel encourages in all of his staff, even if it leads to creative failures. After the success of the Cronut, people visited his bakery expecting new things. It was a pressure that drove him to experiment and be more inventive.
"I wanted to create something like a gingerbread house out of a pastry, and I wanted one of my chefs to work on it. I asked him to create a chocolate cake that looked almost like a small cone. He went into the kitchen and what he eventually presented to me looked horrible," says Ansel, laughing. "It looked like a small pile of poo. It was very funny, but he was a bit sad about it, so I said: 'We can work on it together.' We came up with this beautiful dish called the Gingerbread Pinecone. It went from the most horrible thing to the most beautiful."
Learning from other cultures is another key to Ansel's inspiration. But he doesn't believe people have to travel far to see the world: "There are no set rules when it comes to creativity or to coming up with new dishes. Sometimes we get inspired by an ingredient; sometimes we get inspired by a holiday," he says. "Occasionally I drive to New Jersey, where there is a Japanese market across the river - and the food is just like it is in Japan. Or I go to Queens, New York, where there's a huge Greek community." On a hot day recently, Ansel was inspired by nothing more than a desire for people to eat ice cream. The resulting creation, the frozen s'more, has gone viral in Tokyo. "You have the chewiness of marshmallow, the crunch of caramel, cold ice cream and wafer inside," Ansel explains, his lilting accent flowing elegantly over the list of ingredients. "It's a beautiful dish."
His creations may rack up likes on social media, but Ansel believes it is the emotional connection that keeps people coming back for more. It's the same connection, he says, that gives him the most satisfaction from the perfect dish. "I went back to Paris last year, where I visited a small bistro and ordered veal brain," he says, as his voice settles into the happy rhythm of describing the food he enjoys. "It's not the most exciting thing for a lot of people, but I remember eating it when I was younger and really liking it. It was cooked to perfection with a slight lemony sauce and steamed potatoes. It was just perfect for me. It almost felt like home. It made me feel like I missed France, you know? I missed home and the food I ate growing up."
In a roundabout way, that veal brain is the secret behind Ansel's creative success: emotional attachment. But to evoke those feelings repeatedly in his kitchen takes hard work. "I don't think anyone's born creative. It's something you have to practice and sit down and think about. Go to the kitchen and force yourself to test things. It will result in a lot of failures, but the more you practice, the better you become. It's not easy for us, or for anyone else, but it is possible."
This article was originally published by WIRED UK
