Let Them Eat Jellybeans!* An Interview with Noah Sandoval of Oriole

Chef Noah Sandoval (center) with, from left to right GM Cara Sandoval, chef Garrett Russell, chef Mariya Russell, and Julia Momose of Bar Kumiko.

Photo Credit: Sammy Faze

Chef Noah Sandoval of Oriole restaurant looks a little like the actor Owen Wilson. It’s something about the mouth. Actually, he looks like Owen Wilson before Wilson’s nose was broken twice, once in a fight and another time in a football game. Which is to say Sandoval is even more handsome than Owen Wilson. Thankfully we spoke over the phone, otherwise I probably would have just stared at his face and missed all his good words. My wife is also probably concerned that in the last week I’ve twice referred to Chicago chefs as very handsome. I observe. It’s what I do. Anyways, instead of me writing a long meandering profile and making pop culture references as you’ve come to expect, I really like this interview so much that I’m just gonna let it speak for itself. 

However, a couple things before we do that. Sandoval is also a partner in Kikko/Bar Kumiko, the Japanese-influenced bar and brainchild of Julia Momose. Sandoval’s wife and partner Cara is GM of both Oriole and Kumiko. Oriole holds two Michelin stars which means along with Alinea (3 stars), Acadia, and Smyth (2 stars), it is at least one of the four best restaurants in Chicago. 

I’ve interviewed a bunch of Michelin-starred chefs over the years, and almost all of them have a mythology or some crazy journey. Many of those chefs burnish or evangelize their backstory, coming off as Steve Jobs-like charismatic figures who think different. Some chefs have a story assigned to them, like Grant Achatz, the chef who lost his taste buds. Some chefs cook with algae - Rene Redzepi. Some chefs drop lots of F-bombs – David Chang. They all seem to have some signature style or dish (hot potato, cold potato/molecular gastronomy, stuff cooked in hay/natural Danish, and pork buns/modern Asian).  What’s remarkable about Sandoval is though he competes with and belongs amongst these guys, he’s deliberate, measured, and focused. He doesn’t have some crazy origin story like a Marvel hero. He doesn’t have a dish served with frickin’ laser beams. He hasn’t been spanked by Charlie Trotter for ten years in the back of the walk-in cooler (at least that I know of). He just is. And that’s pretty cool.

On to the interview:

How’s the quarantine life treating you?

Cara and I haven’t left the house. We’re playing a lot of Scrabble and poker. I’m teaching her guitar and she’s trying to teach me Spanish. We bought a house in Albany Park, so there’s plenty of projects we could be working on around here.

I don’t mean to minimize the pain of this pandemic, but hospitality folks don’t get a lot of time off, so I guess that’s one bright spot, right? I read a story about you asking Cara to marry you on March 1st of 2010. She said yes, but asked you why March 1st? Is that true?

It is! I told her March 1st because that was my day off. I figured we could get married on Sunday, and then I had Monday off too, so we could go somewhere for a good meal to celebrate.

Your mentor was Chef David Shannon of Helen’s in Richmond, Virginia [Shannon now runs L’ Opossum in Richmond and once worked at The Inn At Little Washington]. I believe you’ve said one of his main strengths was letting people be who they were, rather than trying to mold you into what they want. Tell me about that?

I remember being like 17 working in the dish pit with my headphones on blaring music. I was kinda high. He was ok with that. He understood me. He gave me an opportunity. He had to like you though. If he didn’t like you, that wasn’t good. Someone who works for me told me I’m the same way. That’s maybe a little true. I would never fire someone because I didn’t like them, but I’m really choosey about who gets on the team.

You’re a punk guy. You’ve played in bands. You play the Clash in the dining room at Oriole. You have to walk through a freight elevator to enter the restaurant. Your food is high end, but it’s not fussy. One thing I’ve always wondered though, is, why do the servers wear suits at Oriole? Is that punk?

I don’t know if it’s punk or not. But, I just kind of like it. I like dressing up myself. People are making an effort to come here and spend a lot of money. I love Schwa, but that’s not exactly what we’re doing here. We can’t be punk rock in everything. In some ways it’s about respecting the industry and the high level we’re working at.

Speaking of that freight elevator entrance, how did that happen? Were you ever like, are people going to want to walk through a freight elevator to eat their gourmet meal?

One of our regulars at Senza put in my ear that if I ever want to open a place, he was interested in partnering. When Senza closed, Craig Golden of Blue Star Properties said he had this small space in a back alley and it has a freight elevator. We thought it had a speakeasy vibe and it would be really cool, so we made the deal. The UPS guy gets annoyed when he’s making a delivery ten minutes before we open. We’re yelling at him that we have to lock the elevator because people are coming for dinner.

You’re one of the best chefs in Chicago, but most of your peers have a signature dish or a signature style, like Grant Achatz is the molecular gastronomy guy, and Curtis Duffy is the naturalistic guy, but when I think about you, I have a really hard time putting you in any kind of category. Is that intentional?

I think the pasta has become a signature dish and people would probably get angry if I take it off the menu. The menu reflects what I want to do and what I have an outlet for. For example, we have an outlet for it at Kumiko, so now I took every Japanese dish off menu at Oriole. I try to put the best fifteen courses out there. There is a philosophy, for example, we’re working on a dish with sablefish, that features a sablefish belly croquette, poached sablefish, sablefish bone stock, with koji in the stock and in the bread, if that makes sense.

It does, basically you focus on a single item and do a deconstruction or multiple techniques and riffs all in one plate.

Yes. Ideally, you’d be utilizing scraps. I’ve got some pretty smart people on the team driving me and inspiring me. I’m taking more time to slow down and think of ideas. They come up with a lot of great ideas. You know, when I was at Senza, everything we did was very bold with lots of acid. That’s how I liked to eat and that’s how Michael Carlson cooked at Schwa. I wanted to do good by him, but now Oriole is a lot different.

This is interesting. When I hear you talk, it almost seems like Oriole is the experimentation ground for the concepts that will spin off in the future, which is kind of amazing, because most flagships are these tried and true things, not proving grounds.

That’s a little true. But, for example Kumiko is all Julia’s [Momose] idea. It’s her complete influence and concept. But, because we love pasta at Oriole, it is possible the next place could be Italian.

Speaking of Duffy and Achatz, guys with 3 Michelin stars, I know you’ve said publicly that getting 3 stars is a goal. Do you feel like you know the difference between 2 and 3 Michelin stars?  I know you’re not a critic, but as you know, I am definitely a critic, and sometimes I’m not even sure. Like when I eat yours or Ryan’s (McCaskey of Acadia’s) food, I feel like they’re in the same league.  Like I guess you can argue Alinea is the OG, and they design their own serveware and what not, but…

I think the food has to be perfect.  Consistency is important. I don’t know if we are as consistent as those guys. I know sometimes when I sit down to dinner at Oriole, it feels like we’re there. All I know is when I dine at places like Alinea or Grace, I really like them. I’m not that critical, but I do believe with Michelin, they have a standard and 99% of the time they’re right. I don’t know, maybe it’s nicer bathrooms or some kind of level of luxury. Ryan and Curtis, none of those guys are underdelivering. Grant’s probably the reason Michelin is even in Chicago. I don’t think they would ever falter, although I think they should be allowed to after all they’ve done.

I heard your restaurant is named after the Baltimore Orioles baseball team?  Did you also maybe consider Cal’s [after Oriole’s greast Cal Ripken) or Vlad’s after [Oriole’s great Vladimir Guerrero)?

It’s true. I love the Orioles. I just got a Cal Ripken-signed baseball in the mail.

Was that a drunken eBay purchase?

Ha. Is there any other way to buy on eBay?

Yeah, we were sitting around, at the end of year in 2015 trying to come up with the name of the restaurant and I was watching an Orioles game. Cara had a font webpage open, and I said type in Oriole. It looked really good on paper. Although, people thought we were gonna be just like Blackbird. Vladimir Guerrero is my favorite player.

Oh, is that true? What do you like about him?

Yeah, him and Chipper Jones.  Guerrero’s got that unorthodox swing. He’s a pretty good individual. His son is so respectful and nice and cool as well. He was always swinging at sliders in the dirt low and away and hitting the heck out of them.

You grew up in Virginia?

For a while. I’ve lived in a bunch of places. My dad was a Seal in the Navy, and we spent 10 years in Richmond, Virginia.

Oh, wow. I did not know that, but that brings up an interesting theory I have which is even if we try to get far away from our parent’s occupations and influences, we still find a way to repeat them or do something in the same vein. Even though your dad would probably punch me for saying this, it now makes sense to me that you cook at the highest levels of cuisine, it’s like being a Navy Seal of the kitchen.

My dad’s a pretty nice guy. I think he actually would see those similarities.  I can see where I got certain types of discipline, and an understanding of what perfection was from him, not that anyone is perfect. My dad was so regimented that if he said I’m going to run 10 miles, I don’t care if he’s under the weather, or whatever, he’ll still run the 10 miles. He never falters. Similarly, we can’t falter with our cooking, because then otherwise people are giving us their hard-earned money for bullshit.

I got a lot from my mom too. My mom is more caring and relaxed and forgiving.  Also, my mom was a little bit into punk. I remember she had picked me up one night after she had just gone to see the Ramones. She also saw Nirvana live.

Nirvana! Damn, I’m jealous. My dad was like that. He introduced me to Nine Inch Nails.

That’s pretty cool. I lived near Trent Reznor in New Orleans.

Did you ever meet him?  I know this is a stupid question.

No, but I did have beers with Moby at R Bar on Royal street. I almost ran into John McEnroe on my bike in 2002.

Why did you go to New Orleans?

I tried to go to culinary school.

Oh right, I read about that. You said they were like trying to teach you how to peel vegetables and you were like I’ve been working in kitchens for five years. I already know this.

Yes, I also worked at what I believe to be the best restaurant in New Orleans and with one of the best chefs ever.

Where was that?

Marisol.

Chef Pete Vazquez?

Vazquez, correct.  I remember I walked in, they gave me a quiz on a bunch of stuff, like how to make a sourdough starter. I answered what I knew, but I left some stuff blank that I didn’t know. Vazquez, told me, well, you’re from Virginia [Vazquez also grew up in Virginia where like Sandoval he also started as a dishwasher] you seem to have a good worth ethic, and I know because you didn’t make up stuff on the quiz, you won’t bullshit me, so you’re hired.

You’re into classic cars, right?

Yes, I have a 1962 [Ford] Galaxie two door. Cara has a 61 [Ford} Falcon.

Why the Galaxie?

That’s the car I always wanted when I was a kid. As soon as I got the first quarterly payout after we paid our investors back, I went with my buddy Alex to buy it. He drove it home going 85 [MPH] so I could watch it in action. I could barely keep up with my Toyota.

What’s the future look like for Oriole once we get out of this?

It’s interesting when everything you ever wanted stops. You appreciate it more, not that I didn’t appreciate it before. But when you’re getting judged for 15 courses about 45 times a night, you put your head down and try to make things perfect and make your diners and staff happy. You don’t have a lot of time to slow down or focus on yourself.  I mean it’s nice to get Michelin stars and it feels really good, but while you take a pause, you have to get back to work and you can’t assess. Now that I have time, I’ve assessed more. I feel like I’ll do anything it takes to get back at it. Before this happened, I thought I’m getting old. Man, this is really stressful, sometimes I drink too much, or I can’t sleep at night. But now I realize nothing’s as stressful as not having the restaurant. Now I know everything about getting back to it is worth it, and I can handle anything about it ‘til I die.

Oriole is located at 661 W. Walnut St. in Chicago

*The title of this post probably deserves explanation. It’s a nod to one of the greatest punk compilations ever, a record released by Jello Biafra’s (of the Dead Kennedys) Alternative Tentacles label in 1981. The cover is an ironic protest of the Reagan presidency, twisting the phrase, Let them eat cake, by making a nod to Reagan’s love of jellybeans. Either way, obviously the Trump presidency has some echoes of the Reagan administration, and also chef Sandoval likes punk, and also high end cuisine is sometimes silly and awesome like jellybeans. People also think high end cuisine is about rich people enjoying themselves at the expense of the masses (I don’t think this is true at all or at least not all the time - that’s an essay for another time - so in this case I’m also being ironic).

Marie Antoinette supposedly said, “Let them eat cake,” as in the starving complaining peasants can go to the guillotine and their heads can roll on the ground, aka the grass, aka the cake.

There is a twist of course, which is that Marie Antoinette may have never actually said this and it was a propaganda campaign launched by French revolutionaries. The actual phrase was thought to be "Qu'ils mangent de la brioche” or “Let them eat brioche”…which honestly sometimes is more tasty than cake. And also, I apologize, because I lied and said I wasn’t going to write a lot of discursive things like I normally do, but I just did.

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