#phillip foss

[m0uthbr3ather]

Chef Crushes (aka chrushes)

Chef’s List:

Ferran Adria

Albert Adria

Heston Blumenthal

Grant Achatz

Mario Batali

Jose Andres

Marco Pierre White

Mine:

Phillip Foss

Ferran Adria

Heston Blumenthal

Grant Achatz

Marco Pierre White

Wylie Dufresne

Ronny Emborg

Anthony Sasso

Elise Kornack

we also both nostalgia-chrush on Emeril Lagasse because he was the dude we both religiously watched on T V back when we were younginz Who do you guys chrush on for inspiration?

[seemsdykely]

The Elegant Predations, Philip Foss

The nausea of lilacs: a preverbal vertigo or incandescent gesture such that voice disintegrates into a cosmology of animals and instruments. Is she then frightening? Is she then a horse or violin? Perhaps near enough to smell her breath her irises will expand horizontally. Or perhaps there is a red snake tattooed between her buttocks curling up her spine. Then the interiors of her pores will have the fragrance of lilacs.

Teeth do not shine in the absence of light. Thus it is pointless to sift through loam at night, even if your wrists are fatigued from conducting the flight of birds. And she might have a small bird in her mouth, in place of a tongue. Or a child’s tooth as a fingernail, the strength of which would be in implied threat.

The intent is to create a church of sound, a baroque vehicle for image, and these a sonata of bastard symbols: a crown of smoky quartz, a silver stirrup, or a whale’s pelvis; a foundation of pure projection, not unlike a voice creating three notes at once. Thus succumbing to an animism disguised by artifacts of desire, like red.

This could be the endless recitation of texts to prevent erosion of civilization, as if sounds were not merely mnemonic devices for thought, but brief projectiles refracting off what is imagined to be divisive to continuity: finding a marble inside a hen’s egg, or combing a tarantula from one’s hair. Such are exaltations of device: a clock work which turns in the head as an amateur impersonation of physics.

Extensions of the body clutter the scenery: looms and revolvers waiting for fingers to prompt articulations of which the fingers alone are incapable. A lie would be appropriate now: an adamant proclamation about the temperature of crystals when invited to heal a dislocated personality: that assumed when one is discovered sucking nectar from flowers.

Or to quarrel with physicians about the color of your eyes and, lacking a mirror, or not believing in mirrors, you are always correct and allowed to change your claim at will. Thus to subvert the finality of naming, disallowing anything to gell or reach maturity, like iridescent fish eating their offspring a second after birth: it is that instant when the mimes leap on stage and fail with one collective gesture.

The pictorial histories carved in stone are all fabrications, not designed as temporal refutations, or false scent-trails, but glorifications of failed memories, or comets. Perhaps they are sufficient to die for, as good as wheat fields hosting hallucinogens, or a breastful of photographs of individuals assumed to have lived, their tongues uniformly drooping like limp fish.

What is desired is the recollection of odors, perhaps a theater of odors which compels a mental seasickness from the movement of its waves; as the gull flies upside down, confident the sea will not turn to rain. Or the tongue up the neck where acidity refutes the romance of the nose. And the red peels off the lips and the hair is thrown on the floor, like a taxidermist’s experiment.

The trees change color so rapidly you lose all sense of direction and believe that by sitting still the flocks of cranes plodding toward you will not discover the roses you are hiding inside your shirt: you wish to create a language that is pure red, and you wish to speak it on a day of pure snow.

You can visualize what you wish to speak: the red and orange sunset, the finger-wide band of erect pubic hair visible through her pink gown, and darkness reeking of lilac. But you are afraid because you understand that each tone corresponds to a hue. Thus even in darkness you could create a cacophony, like the decomposition of fireworks or the dissection of desire.

[anguseatstheusa]

From February-September of this year I did some work for Chef Phillip Foss and his Meatyballs Mobile. Along the way I helped with the launch of EL Ideas by designing their brand identity (logo, website, menu, etc.) Recently I discovered that their amazing FOH manager Bill Talbott painstakingly wrote out my menu written in Helvetica Neue LT Std.

I'm floored.

[elideas-blog]

What's in a Name?

There has recently been a feeling I have had to return to the name of 'Josh'. My name at birth was Phillip Joshua Foss, though I was called Josh from the time I was born, all the way up to the point that I had been in NYC for 3 years. I'm not going to get into why I was called by my middle name, but the logic of the change was this:

I had been fired from my first 4 positions in New York largely due to the fact that I was not nearly as good as my CIA diploma would have had me believe. Granted, two of these were NY Times four star restaurants that I was trying to cut my teeth in, but I had even backed away from the culinary world for a time to work in wine sales (I was kind of a wine snob back then). When after a ton of persistence, patience, and persistence, I finally received a call from Le Cirque to interview/stage for a position, I made a deliberate decision to "change" my name to Phillip. The mind behind the madness was two fold: 

Phillip is more universal a name and rolls off the tongue easier for the Spanish, Italian, and French speaking colleagues of Le Cirque.

Phillip carries a different connotation than Josh.

The second point is the interesting one for expansion. There could certainly be a numerology study that could be referred to, but lacking time or any idea of numerological jargon, I will relay simply from my gut and experience.

Josh is the dude you are going to get crazy with, make you laugh, and get drunk or stoned with. Almost all the Josh's I know are laid back and good friends with good senses of humor, but not very confrontational or serious about their career.

Phillip, on the other hand, is the guy you want to go to war with. He's the guy who'll have your back in a fight, and may even be the one to instigate it. He can be belligerently drunk, defiant, and rebellious. He takes his work seriously, quick to spark, and co-workers take him more seriously than they do Josh.

Of course a lot could be said for the fact that by the time I got to Le Cirque I was ready for things to fall in their place, but I also believe there is a subliminal aspect to the tone of the name that is missing with Josh. 

The reason for this post, is that it may give you a better look into who I am as a person. Josh is what my wife and family call me (even my 4 year old calls me Josh as opposed to Daddy). Josh is the guy who writes most of my 'off the wall' posts. Josh is very much my creative side, poet, and far and away the core of my sense of humor. When I look in the mirror, it is Josh who I see looking back at me. Phillip is there when the kitchen whites are on. Josh may have come up with many of my culinary concepts, but Phillip is the chef I want executing them. Phillip traveled and staged through France, and Josh exploited Brazil and all its beauty. Josh is without a doubt the beast behind the Meatyballs concept & cracks jokes and puns all day, and Phillip is the chef who's behind EL, longs to be taken seriously, & comes down on the team when they need a push. Yes, there is a schizophrenic aspect behind my being, and moments of silence have been extremely awkward when I have to think twice before introducing myself. 

As for you, continue calling me Phillip if that's how you know me and continue/start calling me Josh if that is easier. I really don't care and answer and turn my head to both, and even many other names that are not appropriate to be repeated on a family blog as this.

So why this post? Does it really matter what you call me or that you know any of this? To tie it in, it is best said that the project of EL will be a little of both Phillip and Josh. There will be serious cuisine with frills and tricks, and there will also be tongue and cheek humor. One thing Josh has learned from the time on the streets operating the Meatyballs Mobile, is that even Phillip has enjoyed bending people's minds and enticing laughter. And Josh knows that Phillip seriously misses the creativity and refinement of a sit down dining experience that will be satiated in EL.

Thanks for your time, Phil/Josh

P.S. If you were expecting to find information here on why we've decided to call our project EL, stay tuned... it will be explained, but I needed to get this out there.