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Chef photography by Kevin A. Roberts; food photography courtesy of prasino
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The tag lines “Sustainable dining in style” and “Eat green, live well” will surely grab the attention of the beard-and-beanie generation. But are such ideals sustainable for future generations—especially in 280-seat restaurants with big expansion plans? Jared Case, executive chef of Chicago-based prasino (1520 S. Fifth, St. Charles, 636-277-0202, prasino.com), scheduled to open its third space in April in the Streets of St. Charles development, believes they are. Most restaurants that espouse such goals don’t deliver the goods, but Case convinced us that the “eco-chic” prasino has and will continue to do so. Herewith, a glass of Case’s Kool-Aid.
Let's get this out of the way early: What makes a restaurant "eco-chic"? "Eco" because we use only energy-efficient equipment, light bulbs, and cleaning supplies; fry oil gets converted to make biodiesel—that kind of thing. "Chic" for the way we use reburbished and reclaimed building materials. The effect is intentional, obvious, and dramatic.
With a lot of restaurants, that commitment is all talk. Here it's our foundation. For instance, we were the first in the area to be accepted to join Greener Fields Together, an organization with a firm commitment to organics and sustainability.
What factor sold you on prasino? When I realized that prasino was positioning itself to be a chef-driven, green-built, natural, and sustainable higher-end restaurant whose goal was to develop into a national brand, I fully committed. I want to be it. No other place has all those goals. As a chef, I want to help claim and develop that identity.
How else can you emphasize sustainability? Bring it home, literally. We want to connect to the community, and one way to do that is by conducting a farmers' market on the weekends in front of the restaurant.
So you are moving to the area from Chicago? I’m here for four months. My wife’s family is from Belleville. We have a small son. So knowing that prasino was coming to St. Charles, it made sense for me to get involved with something I thought was truly incredible. Inevitably and eventually, our home base will be here—we have three generations of Althoff graduates. I want our son to make it four.
How long you been playing the restaurant game? I started when I was 14, at a deli in Richfield, Connecticut run by two Italian guys, Rocco and Angelo. Rocco pulls me to the side and says, "Are you going to work your f—ing ass off for me?” Then he repeated the sentence, more slowly, and emphasizing different words. I thought I'd stumbled into a DeNiro movie.
A high school job? I actually dropped out of school sophomore year to work for them full-time, but realized if I didn’t do back to school, I’d be Rocco. So I went back and graduated with honors with a 0.33 GPA, which was only possible because I got straight As the last two years. I even got accepted into college, but got sidetracked by more restaurant work.
So what was next? I traveled to Chicago, 19 years old and backpack on my back, to work a week at Red Light, a restaurant run by Paul Wildermuth. It was the most fantastic-looking restaurant I’d ever seen and full of beautiful people. Marché, another unbelievable restaurant, was right across the street. I was in lust.
Did you get the job? Only because of heart and drive, not talent. I didn’t know how to use a chef’s knife.
Just a deli slicer… True, plus spats and a bread knife. But I got hooked by chef Paul, a long-haired, half-Hawaiian, half-German dude who drives low-riders and was the chef of the coolest place in Chicago. I wanted to be this guy. In one year, I’d earned an endorsement from him to attend the Culinary Institute of America–Hyde Park, where he had graduated.
How was the CIA? I already knew how to cook, so they hated me. They called me Superman. It did help land me an externship at a resort at Little Palm Island, a four-star, four-diamond resort, which at the time was rated in the top 15 in the country.
What did you do after graduation? To pay homage to my mentor, Paul, who sponsored me at the CIA, I visited him in Chicago. I brought my knives, was offered a job at Marche, and became head chef, earning my stripes at 24 years old.
I remember Marché: cool place—lots of upside-down umbrellas. I owe it all to Paul—the passion, technique, tools. Since we were both gearheads, we even built cars together. If Paul did it, I'd want to do it. He got a country-club job; I did, too. If he'd auction himself off for a dinner, I would, too. Unfortunately, he passed away two years ago doing what he loved, cooking at an auction dinner. Heart attack at 46.
What was one thing he taught you? The two-pan pick-up, a time-saving sautée trick where a protein, vegetable, and sauce is combined quickly and efficiently. With consistency, it's one key to being a top chef. The last conversation we had, he told me he was working on the one-pan pick-up, simplifying it. He was always innovating... Dude was the best chef I ever met. I was truly blessed.
My guess is you're paying him forward. Exactly. For the rest of my life, I feel it's my responsibility—my purpose—to take what he gave me and pass that on to the people who work for me, to create chefs and sous-chefs and line cooks, because someone took the time to do it for me. I feel it's my job and purpose to fulfill what he wanted me to do.
You never forget people like that. And he ran a happy kitchen, not an angry kitchen. But I forgot that. For one brief moment, I was that tyrannical chef... I made Gordon Ramsay look like a pussycat.
When did you change—or did you? It took me a while to realize how to communicate. Then at 26, I realized something so simple: that being positive breeds creativity. Chefs are leaders, mentors, and businessmen. They must be effective communicators.
Any philosophical mantras? This will sound philosophical, but the kitchen is the truth; the truth is on the plate. What's on the plate is right or it's wrong, but it's there. The kitchen made me a good person. It was there that I learned what's right on a plate and what it takes to be a good person.
Somewhere along the line, you moved back to Belleville. I cooked for my future in-laws at a party at their house in Belleville. I did five courses at a four-and-a-half-star level, plating everything in front of them, wearing a button-down shirt that I got one little spot on. The group were all members of their country club. I was asked to be the chef at their club not long after, and I accepted.
Then you returned to Chicago, correct? One day, I was asked to work in Paul Wildermuth's, my mentor's restaurant, fittingly named Tribute. I had to do it.
Describe the menu at prasino. At first I didn't get it. There was sushi, a burger, steaks, chilaquiles, flatbreads, and small plates all on the same menu. It's a breakfast joint, a tapas place—with sushi—a casual restaurant with some fine dining. God have mercy, where's the identity?
I'm with you. Then I realized it was more than confusion, that the menu mix was part of what prasino stands for, different items that are organic, sustainable, and locally sourced whenever possible. Today, I'm seeing less emphasis on organics and more on the latter two, which are just as important to the consumer and more easily attainable... Then again, our Irish salmon is not local, but it is organic and sustainable, and it comes with locally sourced greens and vegetables. Prasino plays perfectly into modern lifestyles. The burger, for example, is a house-ground, all-natural product from Niman Ranch. Today that's how people want their burgers. We serve ours with smoked gouda on a pretzel bun, with tomato jam and pickled onions, and that makes for a really good flavor profile.
I still don't get the sushi component. Who came up with that? See, now that item plays to a healthier lifestyle. That's the beauty of this menu: It appeals to all culinary preferences and lifestyles. You can choose to indulge or not indulge...from cauliflower gratin to hand-rolled sushi.
The demand for sushi does not seem to be weakening. I know the demand for sushi is increasing both in Belleville and in O'Fallon, Illinois, which is encouraging because prasino is located the same distance from the city of St. Louis.
Prasino appears to be a huge success. The first two are $4 million-plus restaurants.
Is there a kid's menu? There is, but it's not online.
How big's this restaurant? Big. Eighty in the bar, 140ish in the dining room, plus two private rooms—280 seats total—plus 60 on the patio, expandable to 120.
So why did prasino choose the St. Louis area for its third store? The corporate answer is that the Streets of St. Charles development is exciting—and it is. The reason for me is the proximity of local products. There are more nearby suppliers, farms, and farmers here than in Chicago. Achieving our goals will be easier here. Good products are virtually at our doorstep.
Will you have any locally inspired dishes? Will we churn ice cream and spin waffle cones because of that association to the area? Will I do a pork steak and the best T-ravs in town? The answer is a qualified yes to all of those. Our T-rav is different; it will surprise you.
Keep going... How about the horseshoe, invented in Springfield, Illinois? We hope to refine it, using a beer-and-cheese fondue with a local cheddar and Schlafly beer; a Niman ranch filet; some asparagus from the home of white asparagus, Belleville, Illinois; shoestring fries on top for garnish. Sustainable, organic, locally sourced—a chef-inspired alternative to one of the more unhealthy items around.
And prasino serves breakfast, too? We do. Exactly who that appeals to is different in different markets. One location opens earlier; the other serves breakfast well into the afternoon. We also have brunch on both weekend days. That market is universal and easier to predict.
Do you have a favorite dish? I thought the black cod—it's not my dish, but a good identifier for the restaurant—was lacking. Not anymore. It's now a black cod fillet, cooked with teriyaki and finished with eel sauce, in an udon dashi broth, with baby bok choy, shiitake mushrooms, then topped with bonito flakes and a fried lotus chip. It's sweet, salty, and healthy. All I'll say is there's animation at the table. The wow factor is beyond ridiculous.
You also speak of "gastro-kitchy indulgent fun." That should be a section on our menu. The one dish that explains what it is the pork belly BLT, which uses a green chili pork belly confit, guacamole, and a brilliant-green sweet spread, what I call "Mexican candy," made from sugar, vinegar, tomatillos, cilantro, the confit juices, plus some guacamole, arugula, and tomato on grilled peasant bread. It has every dynamic: sweet, acid, fatty, crispy, crunchy, soft.
You certainly are driven and passionate. What do you like most about your day? The whole thing. Seriously.
There has to be something you dislike. [Long pause.] Shucking oysters. I can't stand shucking oysters.
Do you ever see yourself doing anything else? Maybe restoring cars—or racing them. I restored a 1987 BMW 325; it's my daily driver.
Last question. Cards fan or Cubs fan? [A long pause, then a smile.] Did I tell you I'm a huge gearhead?
