table talk / By Joseph Byrd

Another Outlaw

Kenny Shopsin, America’s anti-celebrity chef

(Feb. 12, 2009)  I wrote previously about Al’s Diner, the story of an outlaw cook in Rio Dell a decade ago. The term “Outlaw Cook” I stole from the eponymous book by John Thorne, in which he goes against the grain of all the “rules” of the culinary establishment, with chapter headings like “The Discovery of Slowness” and “Learning To Eat.” (His website, home of his magazine Simple Cooking, is www.outlawcook.com.) These are, of course, different interpretations of “outlaw” — Thorne’s is “against the rules”; Al’s was “against the law.” I like both.

Now comes Kenny Shopsin and his new cookbook/memoir Eat Me. Actually, Shopsin’s has been around for decades, a Greenwich Village place with a six-page menu, jammed with 1,000 original creations like “The Goyboy Sandwich” (pulled beef, fried onions, cheddar, vichyssoise sauce), “Macaroni and cheese pancakes” or “White trash chicken hash with eggs.”

GALLERY >

Shopsin’s was a successful neighborhood secret (Kenny hates publicity; if called by a guidebook, he will say the restaurant is no longer in business, he’s just there removing the equipment) until Calvin Trillin exposed it in a New Yorker article in 2002. That article made me wish I was back in New York, at least for lunch. Shopsin is a third kind of outlaw cook, the kind who only serves people he approves of. He won’t serve a party larger than four, and he refuses to alter anything on the menu:

Most of the time when a customer makes a special request, it’s not about the food, but about his own desire to be in control and to establish his own specialness. Making people feel special through this kind of ass-kissing is one of the services that a restaurant can provide to people who need it, but it’s not a service that I want to provide…

The rule about no parties over four is really because he doesn’t think they interact properly with the staff and other customers: “They are no fun. They come into the restaurant, and they’re an entity unto themselves. Let them have their powwow somewhere else. I don’t want them here.” This rule inspired a customer to write a poem, which begins:

You could put a chair at the end
or push the tables together
but don’t bother
This banged-up little restaurant
where you would expect no rules at all
has a firm policy against seating
parties of five…
It doesn’t matter if one of you
offers to leave or if
you say you could split into
a party of three and a party of two
It won’t work: you’re a party of five

But there’s another element to “outlaw cooks” besides their eccentricity: They all seem to have evolved through paths not common to the culinary profession. Anthony Bourdain (Kitchen Confidential, No Reservations) went to culinary school, and his cookbooks use classic methodologies — he’s an iconoclast, but not an outlaw. Al, John and Kenny are. Al is a blue-collar cook who learned from working the line at countless greasy spoons: His secrets are those of the grill and the deep fryer. John is self-taught, but is an educated cook and polymath. Kenny learned everything he knows from trial and error in his own little neighborhood grocery: He has sometimes invented the wheel from scratch; surprisingly often, it’s a better wheel.

An autodidact is more open to outrageous possibilities, like Pecan Chicken Wild Rice Cream Enchiladas, Chocolate Peanut-butter S’mores French Toast and Cheeseburger & Fries soup. Many dishes have personalized names, like Slutty Cakes, Blisters On My Sister’s, Squaw Eggs, Eggs Piaf, Jewboy Sandwiches I, II, and III, and Greekboy Sandwich (brisket, tapenade, crisp mushrooms, feta, tahini). He is scrupulously politically incorrect: There’s also a Jihadboy Sandwich. Another outlaw touch: His is the only restaurant I’ve ever heard of that makes soup to order.

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