Elegy to Rose Gray
Rose Gray died on February 28, 2010. I missed the obituary and only heard later and then went back to read. She was 71 and died of cancer that came and went and came back again. Hers is a portrait of a woman of great fortitude and generosity. A life filled with tragedy and victory. A self made woman perfectly in tune with her time. It is interesting to think about the influence a person who you’ve never met can have on your life. This is a fairly obvious revelation yet we are constantly and unconsciously inspired by people from far away places or past centuries. My connection with Rose is through her cookbooks, which she co-authored with her partner Ruth Rogers.
Upon being hired by Andrew and Mark to run the kitchen at Diner, I was handed a copy of the first River Café Cookbook, the Blue one, and directed to the recipe for Chocolate Nemesis. This would be our singular and signature dessert.
I was a little put off. Shouldn’t I, the chef, choose the dessert? But Andrew was firm in his vision and his decision. In fact, for the first month or so I never even made the nemesis. Kate made it every day. I have a photo of Kate, still only 20 years old, standing over her cake beaming widely. It’s like another lifetime.
Once thrust upon me though I realized that the book spoke directly to my culinary spirit. I was kindred with Rose and Ruth and imagined that I might go and work for them one day. They made exactly the kind of food that I wanted to make. And while the Diner was not quite the place to make that food nor was I quite the person to do it, I consulted them for menu ideas again and again. Maybe I also consulted them for the idea that there was a kitchen out there, well organized, respectful, functional, even feminine, where I would eventually make my home. I have never been to the River Café, or to London, but through those books I can imagine exactly what it would be like to sit where they are and eat that food. The modern design, the attention to detail, the clean flavors and crisp aprons. I imagine it all white and stainless with appointments of color. A bowl of citrus.
Rose Gray and Ruth Rogers. No youngsters when they started in the kitchen, what would it be like to put on those whites in my fifties? What would it be like to look out on what you’ve created with the deepest satisfaction that you had done exactly what you thought was right? I was also impressed by their enduring partnership. No small feat but something that I like to think was helped by the fact that they were two women who didn’t allow for ego. I am grateful to Rose and Ruth that they were able to put so much of what they were into those books. Enough to make me consider so many things about food and restaurants, but mostly to consider who they were. As workers. As women.
