By Eric Schaefer
By New Times
By Rachel Miller
By Eric Schaefer
By Heather Hoch and Lauren Saria
By Robrt L. Pela
By Heather Hoch
By New Times
I don't know why, but I find near-disasters thrilling.
I'll never forget one dinner at Beef Eaters in Phoenix -- not because of the mediocre prime rib, but because of a candle that exploded on my table. It had burned down into the foil-wrapped holder and I discovered the stuff showers furious sparks when set afire.
Another meal at Roaring Fork in Scottsdale still makes me smile when I think of the waiter who collided with a platter of mashed potatoes. Spackled in spuds, he served me anyway.
4301 N. Scottsdale Road
Scottsdale, AZ 85251
Region: Central Scottsdale
Prime rib: $8.95
Leg of lamb: $8.95
Bread pudding: $2.95
480-990-3773. Hours: Lunch, Monday through Friday, 11:30 a.m. to 1:30 p.m.; Dinner, Monday through Friday, 5:30 to 8:30 p.m.
Then, at a restaurant in Rocky Point, Mexico, a waiter carrying an enormous, plate-laden tray didn't realize a customer had closed the sliding glass door. Not funny for him when he slammed into the glass, but God help me, it was hard not to fall off my chair laughing.
These are the kind of wacky high jinks I'm expecting -- okay, hoping for -- when I stop in at L'Academie Café, the restaurant at the new, expanded Scottsdale Culinary Institute's Sky Bridge Campus in the Galleria. L'Academie is run by students enrolled in the cooking school, and the dining public is served up as guinea pigs while would-be restaurateurs learn the ropes from hosting to serving to cooking. It's a sitcom waiting to happen.
Or not. Sorry to give away the plot, but there's little chaos coming from this kitchen. Sure, there are some bumps along the way, but overall, they're running a smooth show at L'Academie. It's believable that staff are students, but given the enthusiasm, it's impossible to find fault with anything that goes wrong.
And considering that they're practically giving the food away, it would be highly ungrateful to grouse too much. Incredible. Real cuisine, in an upscale Scottsdale setting, with appetizers ranging from $2.25 to $2.95, and entrees topping out at $9.75. You can't beat those prices with a breadstick.
Then again, the Scottsdale Culinary Institute doesn't do things halfway. Consider its motto: "If you are willing to commit yourself to learn the skills of culinary art, to share your passion and knowledge by serving others, and if you are willing to change and grow . . . then SCI is the school of choice for you."
Founded in 1986, SCI was quickly embraced by food professionals because of its rigorous training standards. Three years ago, Le Cordon Bleu selected SCI for a highly esteemed partnership. Founded in Paris in 1895, Le Cordon Bleu is considered the world's authority on classic French cooking. The marriage strives to unite classic French ideals with contemporary American technology.
Today, the school boasts an impressive roster of associations, including the American Institute of Wine and Food, the International Association of Culinary Professionals, and the National Restaurant Association.
L'Academie is SCI's second location.
Its original campus, at 81st Street and Camelback, is home to L'Ecole, a Mobil three-star restaurant run by the students (the rating is the highest award granted for student-operated restaurants). Reservations are often filled more than a month in advance by diners wanting to cash in on elaborate prix-fixe menus costing less than $30 for six courses. (Sample feast: Amuse-bouche; braised escargot with veal sausage and Brie crostini; pâté with frisee and lingonberry relish; intermezzo; butter-poached Maine lobster with roasted cauliflower and artichokes, citrus-scented mushrooms and vanilla crepe; and a jaw-dropping specialty dessert.)
L'Academie is a more casual operation, focusing on bistro-style à la carte tastes of "cuisine de sol." This means an affable menu of soups, salads, panini, pizza and a few full-plate entrees, all influenced by the robust flavors of the Italian and French Riviera.
L'Academie doesn't come across as casual, however. Banish all thoughts of its still-barren host, the horribly failed Galleria mall. It could be spooky, tramping up an immobile escalator, its sides flanked with plywood, its steps yawning over a dark chasm that once was home to glittery movie theaters. Yet at the top of the stairs, the warm lights of the Institute beckon through floor-to-ceiling plate glass. Activity hums. Off to the right is a classroom, striped with long tables facing a theatrical exhibition kitchen. Sometimes it churns with students, other times it hosts demonstrations for mere mortals, those everyday people dreaming of working magic in the kitchen.
Chefs-in-training are everywhere, comparing notes on that day's classes, discussing what joys the vendors delivered and preparing their next meals out loud. They mill about the long corridor leading from the lobby back to the student kitchens, and occupy many of L'Academie's seats. At a neighboring table, a chef shows the ravages of kitchen work. His pants are smeared with chocolate; he's dipped like a Dairy Queen ice cream cone.
The mood is infectious. Who wouldn't want to be a chef, immersed in this sea of culinarians so special that they have their own elite uniform of pristine white? The energy flows into the lobby, sparkling and cool with black-and-white marble floors, spotted here and there with leather chairs in delicious colors: eggplant, sweet potato, pomegranate and pesto. Above them float ceiling accents in mustard and gravy tones, plus rafters painted with quotes: "Food is our common ground, a universal experience." -- James Beard. And "There is no sincerer love than the love for food." -- George Bernard Shaw.