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July 2,
2004
Chicago Reader:
Restaurant
Box: Food Service
I
Can't Believe It's Not Trayf!
Without
the presence of a mashgiach, or rabbinic supervisor,
no one can enter the kitchens of the kosher catering firm Basel &
Balfour--not even its president, Daniel Nack.
"It's my business, and I don't have the keys," he says cheerfully.
Restricted
kitchen access is one of the requirements of Organized Kashrus Laboratories,
aka OK Labs, of Crown
Heights, New York,
the organization Nack has hired to monitor
Basel & Balfour's adherence to kosher standards. Rabbi Mordechai
Sofovich, the OK Labs-approved mashgiach,
holds the only keys to Basel & Balfour's kitchen, and only he and
his assistant know the alarm code. They're on the premises during all
business hours to inspect incoming food supplies and guard against accidents
that would render food or equipment trayf,
or nonkosher. Meat and dairy products can't
be prepared or eaten together, for instance, and shellfish and pork are
completely forbidden. The rules, collectively called kashrut,
stem from biblical proscriptions against cooking the meat of a calf in
the milk of its mother and eating sea creatures without scales or fins
as well as land animals that don't chew their cud or have cloven hooves.
Kashrut applies not only to food, but also
to the dishes and utensils used to cook it: if you melt butter in a skillet,
you can't sear a lamb chop in it next time. Rabbis at OK Labs can also
scrutinize the catering company's kitchens 24 hours a day via webcam to
make sure no work is performed on Saturday, the Jewish Sabbath, and "just
as an extra safeguard," says Nack. The camera's
fine with him. "Let it be on, let it stay on," he says. "In kosher cuisine,
every aspect has to be supervised."
As part
of his commitment to kosher food, Nack wants
to change its less-than-stellar culinary reputation. Often, he says, people
assume it's going to be overcooked and drowned in gravy. He got the idea
for Basel & Balfour at a Center for Jewish Life gala at the Art Institute
last September (where Nack, former manager
of the Salvatore Ferragamo store on North
Michigan and a member of the board of governors of the School
of the Art Institute, received a community service award). The dinner
was cooked by caterer George Jewell, whose business is not kosher but
who will prepare kosher food on request. The food at the gala was reportedly
so delicious that attendees told the presiding rabbi they couldn't believe
it was kosher. Why, thought Nack, couldn't
the quality of all catered kosher dinners be this high? He enlisted Jewell
and local entrepreneur Velvel Tokarskiy
as partners and founded Basel & Balfour two months later. (Nack
came up with the name after looking at maps of European cities--it's a
combination of two street names that struck his fancy.)
Its current
LaSalle Street
kitchen has two entirely separate rooms, one for meat and one for dairy,
each on a different floor. The company plans to move to a larger West
Loop facility with three kitchens in the near future; the additional one
will be used for pareve, or neutral, foods
such as fruits, vegetables, and fish that qualify as neither meat nor
dairy. When preparing food off-site, the company uses portable cooking
equipment in order to avoid the time-consuming process of making each
client's kitchen kosher. The only other thing that's required is a side
room to cook in. "We don't even need running water," Nack
says. "We could go to the Aragon Ballroom. We could go to Union Station."
Finding
kosher food suppliers can be tricky in the midwest.
Kosher beef and chicken are relatively easy to find, but specialty meats
must be ordered weeks in advance. Veal in particular is scarce: in a kosher
slaughterhouse, an animal is rejected if it shows signs of disease, and
because calves are usually kept in pens and have weaker immune systems
than adult cows, they're more susceptible to illnesses. The failure rate
for veal is about 85 percent. Since they're pareve,
fruits and vegetables are easier to come by, but they must undergo rigorous
inspection by the mashgiach, who
washes the produce himself and uses a light box to look for traces of
insects (which aren't kosher). "It's frightening what falls out," Nack
says. "We don't serve artichoke because we can't really inspect it"--too
many little crannies where bugs can hide.
Despite
such restrictions, Basel & Balfour offers an admirable range of dishes.
Appetizers include figs with whiskey-cured salmon, crepe sachets accompanied
by sweet lamb wurst, and petite moo shu
pancakes with Szechuan
duck. Entrees range from sweet-and-sour cabbage knishes to noisette
of lamb filled with walnuts, dates, and rosemary. Many of the dishes have
been artfully altered to comply with kashrut,
such as the herb-crusted baron of beef. Traditionally it's made with two
sirloins attached to the backbone, but kosher rules forbid consuming the
hindquarters of an animal, so Basel & Balfour's version uses prime
rib. And so that it can be offered at dinners where meat is served, the
company's proprietary version of creme fraiche
is pareve, though Nack
won't reveal how (he'll say only that it's all natural). Other dishes
require very little tinkering. The only alteration in the canard a
l'abricot, for example, is that the duck is
kosher.
Some of
Basel & Balfour's clients keep strictly kosher at home. Others don't,
yet want to have a kosher wedding or funeral. Nack
initially worried that OK Labs would frown on supplying kosher food to
non- or partially observant Jews. When he met with representatives, "four
of the most pious people I know," he asked them about it. They said, "Why
is this a problem? We're happy that Jews eat
kosher." Nack feels the same way. "If we show
how good kosher can be, maybe they'll eat kosher more often," he says.
Anne Ford
is a full-time freelance writer in Chicago.
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