After 30 years in the business, one of the city’s most versatile chefs has dropped anchor on Cherokee Street with Chef’s Table STL and Sure Lee’s, a higher-end catering company and lower-end diner, respectively. Chris Lee is a classically trained French chef, winner of multiple local chef competitions, and an egg slinger as fast as any short-order cook in town.
Was there a lightbulb moment when you knew you wanted to be a chef? When I was 6, I saw my grandfather making pizza dough and asked if it was Play-Doh. I had no idea that’s where a pizza came from. I said, “Wait, you make your own food? That’s how this works?”
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What was your first restaurant job? I was a dishwasher at Ponderosa and I remember being amazed at the giant grill and the winch that raised and lowered the grates. I fell in love with the controlled chaos. I was 15, already into adrenaline rushes like skateboarding and mountain biking—and I thought, this looks like fun.
What other careers did you pursue or consider? In the late 90s, I was a subcontractor for Charter Communications…a cable guy. I was a troubleshooter and a fixer, a skill I’d learned in the restaurant business. If something breaks in the middle of service, you don’t have time to call somebody, you figure out a way to fix it. I made more money the first year than I ever did as a cook. And I got a tan.
Why did you quit doing that? At that time, my dad was a partner in Kirk’s [Kirk’s American Bistro & Bar in the CWE] and they needed some help. I stayed on when Kirk’s became Melange in 2003.
Did you always want to own your own place? No, but one day it hit me that I could probably go to the next level. I’d trained under Jean-Claude Guillassou [L’Auberge Bretonne], Marcel Keraval [Café de France], Terrence Hamner at the Ritz, and Richard Poi in New York, among others.
You also worked at River City Casino. There are times I questioned if I really knew what I was doing, but after running their big, new banquet operation, organizing multiple gigs and working with hundreds of people, I was definitely ready.
What was the first lesson you learned in the business? I grew up eating peas out of a can—usually with a giant on the front of it—so I thought green vegetables were all dark green. When I started with Jean Claude, I remember telling him his asparagus wasn’t done…that they should be dark and mushy. He set me straight, and after a bite, my mind was blown. There were a lot of those moments. Learning classic French techniques was perfect training for the Ritz. Early on I was at the saute station, shaking pans like a madman, and all I could hear was that Frenchman in my ear, yelling obscenities to cook faster. Terrence Hamner told me to dial it back, ‘it’s not like that here.’
You studied under French chefs, who used to carry a certain stigma. They are impulsive and mean—angry men in the back who won’t serve you two starches. If you’ve ever been punched in the gut by a guy who lifts heavy pots all day—or who just might pick up a knife and cut you, or burn you—you learn to pay attention.
Sum up a few of the restaurants you worked in: Kirk’s and Mélange: Pride before the fall. I was an asshole. I was arrogant. I wanted to be the chef and act like a maniac. I obviously retained a little too much from my French counterparts.
- Happy Hollow Country Club in Omaha: My first sous-chef position. It was a top-10 country club in the nation. Both Warren Buffett and Bill Gates were members. All I did was write menus—10 per week, incorporating all sorts of cuisines.
- Café de France: Humility. The brigade system teaches you that no matter who the boss is, you support them—even if they’re a jerk or you know more than they do.
- Wild Flower: Collaboration and friends. I was a consulting chef and tremendously enjoyed working with Chris Bork [Mud House, Revival, Blood & Sand, Vista Ramen].
- Balaban’s: Realization. As a sous-chef, I learned from Andy White if I had what it takes to be a chef. I realized I knew numbers, I knew how to run a line, I knew how to treat people.
- Café Ventana, Sanctuaria, Hendrick’s, Diablito’s, Chuy’s: People and numbers management. Doc Padda [co-owner Dr. Gurpreet Padda] forced me to focus on both. There’s no way to be responsible for that many restaurants and not be dialed in on the bottom line.
- River City Casino: Showmanship. I always thought becoming a caricature of a chef lowered one’s status, until I met [exec chef] John Johnson, who could don a costume and blow the minds of a thousand people with what he produced. The food business should be fun. John epitomized that.
- Mad Tomato: An adventure. Working with Vito [Racanelli], I learned a lot in a short amount of time. He flew more by the seat of his pants than I did and that was hard for me. I was not able to apply a lot of what I knew would help.
Talk about the various local awards you have won and how you won them. I won the Taste of St. Louis twice, back to back, and won and placed in the Crystal Cajun Cook-Off a few times. To win those things it’s best to know the sophistication of the judges. Then practice cooking the dish—start to finish three times—then strip it down and make it simpler. Especially in a competitive situation, don’t overcomplicate things. I learned that at Kirk’s. People there were intimidated by beurre blanc—but they were comfortable with ‘white wine sauce.’
Do you specialize in any certain kind of cuisine? Nouvelle French. Sauces, for example, are finished with a little butter or cream rather than being based on them. I also like to apply French techniques and composition to other cuisines, like I did with the tapas menu at Sanctuaria.
How did you learn to cook barbecue? I spent some time at Ole Hickory and with Mike Mills [17th Street BBQ], who taught me a lot, including to never to give away your secrets. And I get that. He’d tell me what was in something, winking the whole time, which let me know the dude was probably lying through his teeth.
How did Sure Lee’s come about? Originally it was going to be a full-service breakfast-and-lunch spot—because I thought Cherokee needed that—but as I sat and watched, I saw the street was way busier at night, so a late-night diner-style place made more sense. I want it to be the kind of place where other chefs and their crew can go when they get off work. I shudder to think where they go now.
Talk about Chef’s Table STL versus Sure Lee’s. Chef’s Table is serious cuisine where the intent is to wow you—either in a corporate, event, or home-catering setting. We can create a fantastic tablescape, prepare a seven-course French meal in your home, and serve it on Grandma’s fine china. Sure Lee’s is the polar opposite: simpler food in a diner setting, like sandwiches on homemade bread, a lot of smoked meats, and diner staples—the name even sounds like a diner.
Who is a typical corporate client? We go to Barry-Wehmiller at breakfast and lunch every single day. They flattered us by saying “because of how we cater and take care of them, we set the standard for their company worldwide,” which means supplying original, low-fat, high-quality food that’s not highly-processed at a good price. Anything that looks like it’ll put a ring around your middle they don’t want. They schedule meetings for employees and guests from all over the world who already have jet lag. The last thing any of them want after that is to get loaded up on heavy carbs.
Do you have a 5-year plan? Do more and more different types of catered events, because that’s what I do best. And to maximize Sure Lee’s space by doing some one-offs during the week.
What’s the biggest misconception in the restaurant business? The initial cost versus the net bottom line. People can’t believe either number—the first is way too high and the other way too low. Or that a guy will be a star right out of chef school—hell, I’ve been doing this since I was 15 and I don’t think I’m that great.
