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K
ostow was elevated from up-and-coming chef to culinary elite last year— Oct. 26, 2010, to be exact. That was the day when former Michelin guide director Jean-Luc Naret called to inform Kostow that he had been awarded a third Michelin star, making him the second American-born chef and third youngest chef ever to receive three Michelin stars. At the time, he had spent three years at Meadowood, an elegant 50-seat restaurant tucked into an exclusive 250-acre resort in St. Helena. Kostow had retained the restaurant’s two-star status, and was expecting a call from the prestigious restaurant guide to learn if he kept his stars. He was walking through a vineyard with his then-girlfriend, now-wife, Martina, and got the call. Naret had made it a practice of calling each chef who received Michelin stars; his call to Kostow was his last of the day. “We weren’t anticipating three stars by any means,” he remembers, quickly adding that he felt his cooking was up to threestar status. So Naret’s message was a surprise and a thrill. “Then all hell broke lose,” he says. Suddenly, the lanky chef was thrust into chef superstardom. With three stars and a growing list of accolades, he says diners no longer wondered if his food would be great—they expected it, and looked for flaws in the jewels he set before them. He says the pressure to maintain his status now is far greater than the effort it took to get there. “The reality is I can no longer surprise people with how good it is,” he says. “The margin for error is zero. I have to work twice as hard.” When the Michelin awards debuted in America six years ago, the restaurant industry was ambivalent. The French-based guide is revered in Europe—one French chef went so far as to kill himself when the tire company stripped him of one his stars. But would the awards carry the same weight in America?
John Blackwell
18 Chef on a Mission ( 17
Apparently, yes. Restaurants have gained acclaim without the Michelin awards, of course, but the internationally recognized imprimatur filled a void that American chefs perhaps didn’t know they had. Now the awards, imperfect as they may be, are met with anticipation and dread each October. It’s the restaurant industry’s Oscar night, and winning three stars is like claiming a trophy for best screenplay, best director and best picture all in one.
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fter Kostow learned he’d retained his stars this year, he stayed up too late celebrating, but then it was back to work. With his food’s reputation well established, Kostow set about to implement his vision. He’s built the foundation with his cooking. Now he wants to build the house. “If you think you’ve arrived in this business,” he says, “you’re dead in the water.” So he continues to swim. Sharklike. His vision is simple. “I want to be a guiding light,” he says. “The tip of the spear.” That means overseeing an extensive remodel of the kitchen. He’s also expanding the restaurant’s garden program, deepening his connections with the Napa Valley community, spending more time engaging the media, and he’s at work on a cookbook. In short, he’s creating a legacy. “It’s all about putting down roots, personally and literally,” he says. Kostow grew up in Hyde Park, Ill. After majoring in philosophy at Hamilton, displaying an intellectual streak that still runs through his cooking, he applied his love of knowledge to food. He worked in several Chicago restaurants before moving to San Diego for work at George’s At the Cove in La Jolla. It was there he met his first mentor, executive chef Trey Foshee. Foshee says that while Kostow was green, he distinguished himself with his focus and dedication. “He started with me at the bottom, but he was supermotivated,” Foshee recalls today. “He was always that guy who wanted to do the extra work.
LANDSCAPES Kostow’s creations, like this foie gras “stump” with pear, parsnip, pistachio moss and pickled pine needle, are like fragile architecture.
Motivation is what drives this industry. Not everyone has that in him, and he definitely showed it.” Since Kostow was a rookie in the kitchen, the rowdy crew took to calling him “Chico Che,” after an oversized, spectacle-wearing musical prodigy from Mexico. Kostow was skinny but wore glasses, so the name stuck. Foshee says Kostow took the heckling in stride, kept his head down and just kept on working. “He absorbed everything,” he says. “He didn’t just do it; he made it part of him. I think that’s what sets him apart. I still catch myself calling him Chico, but he definitely deserves to be called chef.” Kostow passed on culinary school, an experience he thought would be “superfluous,” and instead headed to Europe to cook. He landed back in San Diego briefly before heading up to San Francisco, where he worked for rising-star chefs Daniel Humm at Campton Place and Daniel Patterson at Elisabeth Daniel. In between, he spent more time cooking in Europe. When Humm, who now holds three Michelin stars at New York
City’s Eleven Madison Park, was ready to decamp to Manhattan, he invited Kostow to come with him. But Kostow declined and instead took a job as chef at Chez T.J. in Mountain View. “I wanted to do my own thing, and Chez T.J. was a tremendous opportunity,” he recalls. “It’s a perfect first chef job.” Humm remembers Kostow as being driven and creative. “He was a great part of helping Campton Place get four stars [from the San Francisco Chronicle],” Humm says. Humm had the chance to eat Kostow’s food twice at Chez T.J., and remembers the young Kostow having the maturity not to let creativity or fancy technique get in the way of what’s most important: making delicious food. “It was clear he was going to be successful,” Humm says now. Chez T.J. is a small restaurant, but Kostow wanted to be far enough from San Francisco that he wouldn’t be outshined by more established chefs, and close enough that if he did something extraordinary it wouldn’t go unnoticed. His cooking did not go unnoticed.