Triumphant Trellis

RH Staff

When The Trellis opened its doors in 1980, Williamsburg, VA was a culinary backwater: While chefs in more progressive markets were experimenting with regional cooking and adding more seasonal fresh ingredients to their repertoire, menus in the history-steeped village promised ho-hum fried fish, chicken and canned vegetables. Marcel Desaulniers changed all that, bringing seasonal contemporary American cuisine to town. The gamble paid off, and the Trellis has since held a well-earned spot as one of the nation's most beloved and acclaimed dining establishments. Desaulniers—winner of the James Beard Foundation award for best chef in the mid-Altantic—is something of a household name himself, thanks to Death by Chocolate and the eight other cookbooks he has penned in the last two decades. RH features editor Megan Rowe visited with Desaulniers as he marks his restaurant's silver anniversary.

When The Trellis opened its doors in 1980, Williamsburg, VA was a culinary backwater: While chefs in more progressive markets were experimenting with regional cooking and adding more seasonal fresh ingredients to their repertoire, menus in the history-steeped village promised ho-hum fried fish, chicken and canned vegetables. Marcel Desaulniers changed all that, bringing seasonal contemporary American cuisine to town. The gamble paid off, and the Trellis has since held a well-earned spot as one of the nation's most beloved and acclaimed dining establishments. Desaulniers—winner of the James Beard Foundation award for best chef in the mid-Altantic—is something of a household name himself, thanks to Death by Chocolate and the eight other cookbooks he has penned in the last two decades. RH features editor Megan Rowe visited with Desaulniers as he marks his restaurant's silver anniversary.

How did you get involved in the restaurant business and, ultimately, The Trellis?
I started by washing dishes at the Tower Restaurant in Uxbridge, MA, and graduated to making salads. The fellow I worked for heard about the Culinary Institute of America and suggested we take a ride up there. I was fascinated by the chefs, because the people I worked with were mostly short-order cooks; the CIA was an eye-opener for me. I started in 1963, and when I finished I moved to New York City and worked in some clubs and restaurants until I was drafted in 1966. I spent two years in Viet Nam. I went back to New York and worked at the Hotel Pierre and did a lot of part-time and catering jobs, then I moved to Williamsburg in 1970. My wife was pregnant, and I decided that was a better place to raise kids. There, I worked for the Williamsburg Foundation, which operates about 700 hotel rooms, for four years, but I had a young family and wanted to make more money. I had a friend in the food brokerage business, so for six years I was out there selling Idaho potatoes and Icelandic cod. But I pined for the restaurant business, and wanted to get back into it. I heard that Colonial Williamsburg wanted to put a new restaurant on the square, and that became The Trellis. It opened in November 1980.

What was it like running your first restaurant?
It was very hard. I'd never been the chef of a restaurant where I was responsible for the food costs. I was also responsible for the labor costs. You quickly come to spend more time with your business than you do with anything in your life. But I felt going in that we had an operation large enough that if we did find success, eventually we would be able to hire enough people to make the situation work, and at some point in my life it wouldn't be as brutal. It took about three years to develop the business to where we thought it would be financially worthwhile.-It was not until the fifth year that I could live a normal life. There was the money to hire people and keep them, and that's the key to free yourself from the daily grind. I think when you reach that level you're actually a better owner/employer/chef, because you're not constantly knocking yourself out.

What are some lessons from your experience that you can share with others?
If you don't have the passion, there's no way to sustain or reach the levels we've reached. I was able to get out of the restaurant, go to Italy, go to France, write cookbooks—to extricate myself from it to a certain degree and continue to learn—and that's what has kept me fueled. If I was still doing what I did in the 1980s right now, I don't think I would have the passion for it.

Now that you've turned over the day-to-day reins, what's a typical day for you like?
My wife and I have an interesting life together. I go to the restaurant every morning for a couple of hours, then come back and work in our art gallery (he and his wife, who paints, converted his test kitchen into a gallery). I still do the menus for the restaurant and I'm still involved with the daily numbers.

What about when you're not working? How do you entertain?
We might have four to six friends over mainly for just wine and hors d'oeuvres. Sometimes I look at what we have on the menu (at the restaurant) and bring home a mise en place. The most cooking I do is when we're on vacation; we usually eat vegetarian and I'll cook every day. We might rent a house in Aspen or an island and spend six weeks there.

What ingredient or tool could you not do without?
This sounds sophomoric today, but it wasn't prevalent when I started cooking: fresh herbs. I can't imagine cooking without them today.

Which culinary figures have influencd you most?
Certainly Ferdinand Metz and Tim Ryan at the Culinary Institute. I admire tremendously what they've done for the school, how they've been role models, and the energy and passion they've devoted to the business over the years. I think anyone who wants to stay in business and be successful has to have that.

What's your preferred junk food?
Peanut M&Ms. If we're on a trip and I'm driving, I call them "power pills." Also, I don't consider it junk food, but I have an ounce of chocolate every day. I prefer Baker's semisweet.

Of your nine cookbooks, which is your favorite?
The franchise, Death by Chocolate. That's what put me on the map.