Recently free-lance writer, Eve Hill-Angus, spent ten days shadowing executive chef Bruno Davaillon in the kitchen of the Rosewood Mansion on Turtle Creek. She writes a fascinating piece on the shy chef.
It’s 5:45 pm, and the front-of-house staff has fanned around the main dining-room fireplace for its pre-shift meeting at the RosewoodMansion on Turtle Creek. Ten or so servers in brocade vests chat and make jokes at the tables they’ve impeccably set. Behind them, in what used to be the library, stained-glass crests bear names such as Robert de Ros and Richard de Clare, accompanied by lions rampant, crosses, and crenellations. The general manager, dapper in his bow tie, takes a breath and plunges in with marching orders for the night.
So-and-so will be here: remember, he can’t abide square plates. A certain $300 half-bottle of wine is temporarily unavailable. We have one engagement, one anniversary, and an 80th birthday—rose petals already deck a table. Mrs. X has been waving away her martini, so let’s try the wine list. Continue here.
