What really happens behind the scenes of Sepia, one of Sydney’s top restaurants
IN the scheme of high-end dining, Sydney restaurant Sepia occupies a space somewhere in between a military operation and science lab.
Several hours before the first patron walks through the door of the CBD eatery, owner and head chef Martin Benn is already hard at work with his trusty sous Zachary Ng.
It’s their daily ritual — otherwise known as the “research and development” phase of the day, when they let their culinary imaginations run wild.
“You could call it experimental,” laughs Benn, who, along with his army of 13 kitchen staff, begins his shift just before 11am.
“We just write down recipe ideas and dedicate time every day to working on them, logging them, trying things out, seeing if they work.
“Nine out of 10 times they don’t but I don’t see that as wasted time at all. Because what we’re doing is eliminating bad recipes.”
But while much of it ends in failure, it’s these daily ‘trial and error’ sessions that also end in brilliance in the form of a new dish or ingredient.
Today it’s a scallop crackling. On a recent day it was a chicken cream; The result of roasting several whole chickens with butter, white wine and herbs.
Then simmering them in stock, straining them and finally pureeing with cream and a splash of soy sauce.
Tonight it will be served in a single dollop, under a sliver of bonito sashimi. Just one of 12 courses on Benn’s degustation menu, served to a full house of around 66 people who have likely booked weeks in advance and who are paying a minimum of $160 per head (not including wine).
There is only one sitting. After all, it was one of only three Australian establishments to make it into this years list of the world’s hottest 100 restaurants. And, says Benn’s wife and owner and Vicki Wild; “For the price, patrons should know they can have the table as long as they like.”
Calmly, the 13-strong team of chefs begin preparing for 6.30pm service and interestingly, aside from churning butter and making sauces and purees, there isn’t a great deal of prep done in the Sepia kitchen (which is larger than average at around 60 square feet.)
Most dishes are made to order from scratch, right down to killing the marron minutes before it’s served in tonight’s dish of poached marron with a shellfish emulsion.
In fact, everything about this kitchen is calm or, to use an old analogy, like a duck coasting along the water while paddling furiously underneath.
Once service begins there are no raised voices and barely any clanging of pots and pans.
Head chef Terry Robinson is moving smoothly around the kitchen, talking quietly with his sous’ Ng and Ben Torrance while the chef de parties James Scott, Rhys Connell, Timothy Scott, Rory Brennand, Anthony Constantopoulos and Christina Uy tend their stations.
This is no accident, says Benn, who trained under Marco Pierre-White and later Tetsuya Wakuda under whom he earned top toque aged just 25.
This is ‘Sepia’ law. ‘The more you sweat in peace, the less you bleed in war’.
“When I started this place I really wanted to change the that kitchen culture of a chefs yelling out, banging pans, flying cookware ... you know that image of a head chef standing behind heat lamps, screaming at the passe,” says Benn.
“Organisation is crucial. Everyone goes into service with an exact understanding of what they need to do. They each have their own dockets to mark off every dish and they also know what everyone else is doing.”
There is another remarkable feature. As the night wears on and dishes are methodically, almost forensically plated and waved away — each chef lends their services to anyone else who needs it.
That means the fish section boss Rhys Connell helps out meat guy Tim Scott, or Scott works with pastry chef Michelle Paschali, or Paschali might open oysters, or plate the abalone.
Even the two kitchenhands muck in.
Another military principal — perfectly executed.
“Everyone helps everyone,” says Benn, matter-of-factly.
“And if someone doesn’t, you better believe it that they soon hear about it.”
Source: The Daily Telegraph, Amy Harris, 29th November 2015
