Kevin A. Roberts
Tello Carréon worked at a dozen restaurants before a Bon Appétit writer lauded the chef’s pulpo dish at Nixta as “the best octopus I ate this year.” At Alta Calle, Carréon has created a menu of Mexican food with artistic flair. His secret weapon: mole sauce, with more variations than Mexico has states. Expect to hear more about Carréon’s interpretations—maybe even a restaurant based on them.
What’s the first dish you remember cooking? My dad used to do lamb barbacoa, large pieces of lamb cooked on hot coals in a pit in the ground, covered with cornhusks and maguey leaves. I was 9 years old, we lived on a ranch, and he allowed me to do it, start to finish, butchering to serving.
When did you come to the United States? When I was 17. I first went to Austin, but the scenery was too much like Mexico, so I went to Chicago for a year, and then St. Louis. Like they say, “Once you come to St. Louis, it’s hard to leave.” Here I am, 25 years later.
You worked in a lot of restaurants here. I started at Caliente Café, in Kirkwood, then to Ramon’s Jalapeno, Casa Gallardo, Casa Grille at the Galleria, Crazy Fish, and then to Portabella. When [Atlas’ owner] Michael Roberts hurt his Achilles tendon, I took over the kitchen there until he recovered. Then when they closed to remodel, he recommended me to Dave Owens who was opening Terrene. When Dave left there, I became Terrene’s executive chef.
Did any of the places you worked in St. Louis stand out? When I was at Giovanni’s, the chef, Gianfranco Munna, didn’t speak English, and neither did I. He spoke in Italian and I spoke in Spanish, but because of the Latin roots, we managed to understand each other. I spent two years with him, and his English never got any better. I now feel strongly that you have to learn the native language, so I stress to my students and cooks the importance of learning English and speaking it in the kitchen.
Portabella was a major restaurant in Clayton at the time. And it was busy all the time. There were no tickets in Portabella’s kitchen, everything was called back to the kitchen, so your memory had to be good. I love calling tickets, because then line cooks focus better. Looking at tickets wastes time. [Laughs.] But for cooks with bad memories, looking at tickets is better.
Do you have a mantra or any words you live by? Two things my father told me, do it well or don’t do itat alland don’t work a job just for the money.And I try to inject both to everyone who works in my kitchen. And when someone comes into your restaurant, you are the one saying hello. Not the other way around.
Do you have any advice for would-be chefs or restaurant owners? You have to treat your staff with respect or you will have constant turnover—and, eventually, no staff. Respect. That’s the backbone of a restaurant.
What makes your cuisine so different? If I like a particular food or dish, I like to play with it, change it. If the flavors are balanced, then I say why not, even though it may not have been done before. I make a white truffle ice cream, for example. No one ever thought those flavors would work together, but they do.
Why, besides their beauty, do you use fresh flowers in your presentations? For taste. When you put a certain rose petal onto something hot, like fruit or chocolate, the aroma jumps out at you. Nasturtium flowers have a spiciness. Some flowers are sweet; others are bitter. You see the beauty but also taste the different layers of flavor.
Was it your idea to convert Old Standard to Nixta? Yes, it was my idea, my recipes, and kind of my name. I wanted to call it Nixtamal, the process that converts maize into masa. I thought St. Louis was ready to experience a different style of Mexican cuisine, although that kind of restaurant had been in my head for a long time.
Nixta was selected as one of Bon Appetit's Hot 10 Best New Restaurants of 2017. It was an honor that my cuisine got recognized on a national stage. What I set out to do there, I did, and was proud of it. I just appreciated that they appreciated it.
When you left Nixta, you did some pop-ups and started a catering company, Elevada. Pop-ups are perfect for introducing something new or different, like Nixta or Alta Calle. Elevada takes those now-proven dishes and more into homes and events. The host trusts us to experiment more because we’ve proven ourselves.
How did you get involved with Alta Calle? I’d been doing some consulting with Bay Tran, at Tree House up the street, and she recommended me to Veronica Morales, who I already knew from years ago. She opened Las Palmas 25 years ago and had this idea to do Alta Calle. We think alike: we both wanted to respect the cuisine and be more thoughtful about it.
Describe the food at Alto Calle and how it differs from what you did at Nixta? Alta Calle continues what I started at Nixta, an extension of that style. I’d be in trouble if I didn’t do the crab tostadas, so I’m doing them differently. Same with the huaraches, flautas, and ceviche. All were big sellers and are the biggest sellers again, along with the taco cuatro.
Describe your style of cuisine. Mexican food on another level, a higher level, that’s authentic and original but with a different approach. To be honest, Mexican people are used to their old, traditional ways.I apply Middle Eastern, Italian, and French touches, like cooking with a lot of wine which Mexicans do not do. I use better quality ingredients, like good olive oil instead of lard.I inject what I have observed and done over the years—my influence—without taking the Mexican originality away.It takes understanding and a special touch to cook even rice and beans properly.
Talk about the beautiful plates you use at Alta Calle. I struggled to be where I am, so I tell my cooks everything I know. I teach them not just how to cook but [also] the art of plating, and having an unusual plate or bowl is part of that. The days of round white plates are over, at least for me.
Can the diner looking for Tex-Mex food find something at Alta Calle? [Laughs.] No. I don’t have anything against Tex-Mex, but that’s not what we do.
Do you have plans beyond Alta Calle? I still want to open my own place, a 50-seat French-Mexican bistro, maybe. Instead of a wine sauce, I say, “Why not serve pan-roasted scallops with a mole and hoja santa?” I see a restaurant with a limited number of items, all served with different moles: Your salad will have a mole, your entrée, and dessert.
What exactly is mole, and how do you make it? People think tacos are the national dish of Mexico, but it is actually mole. You take seeds, nuts, a bread or tortillas, chilies, and spices; grind them together; add broth to make a paste; then add chocolate at the end to balance the other flavors but not so much as it tastes like chocolate. Then you let that ferment, which changes the flavors. Mole is kind of like a sourdough. You use some and then add different ingredients to create new ones. Some moles have 20 ingredients; others have over 100.
How many moles do you make? I make a rojo, verde, amarillo, almendrado, negro, the traditional poblano... I make a dozen now, maybe but the possibilities are endless. There are no limits, but it does take knowledge, talent, and passion. You’re only limited by the ingredients you have on hand—and Amazon can help you with that. I like to experiment with different flavor combinations. Mole is the perfect base for that.
Is it a good time to do elevated Mexican cuisine in St. Louis? I changed things up, starting at Nixta. I wanted to make people happy. I want to make them dance. But to be honest, I was worried how it all would be received. Now I know. People are finally realizing what real Mexican cuisine is.
