THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, June 16, 1996 TAG: 9606130051
SECTION: FLAVOR PAGE: F1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY RUTH FANTASIA, FLAVOR EDITOR
LENGTH: 112 lines
HARDLY ANYONE gives credence to the old adage ``Those who can, do; those who can't, teach,'' especially teachers. But come summer, when the chef-instructors of Johnson & Wales have weeks of kitchen work before them, they prove they can do just what they teach.
The chefs launch the season with the Chickasaw Grill-Off, a barbecue battle as intense as the Olympics and as unfair as a poker game with five aces.
The invitation is clear: if you're going to compete, bring your grilling fare; if you're not, bring a side dish or dessert and stand back. There are few other rules, and those rules are made to be broken.
Susan and Ed Batten - known as Mrs. Chef Batten and Mr. Chef Batten to students - host the party at their Virginia Beach home each year.
``Our yard is the Fred Sanford lot for barbecue grills,'' Susan says. The couple owns five charcoal and gas models in varying shapes and sizes. With one grill from a neighbor, the stage is set.
At first glance, the party looks like a congenial pot-luck. Guests wandering through the back gate, carrying heaping dishes onto the screened porch. Others sipping drinks poolside and chatting with friends.
Yet the pre-dinner conversation has a menacing tone.
``What are you cooking?'' Marisa Marsey, Johnson & Wales' communications officer, asks Tim Cameron, a chef-instructor.
``Dogs.''
``Hot dogs?''
``Not exactly,'' Cameron replies, looking at two Jack Russell terriers yapping behind a fence.
Other contestants are equally coy. Rumors of alligator and rattlesnake meat have been circulating since before graduation. After all, there's a lot at stake.
The trophy for this heated affair is a Barbiecue - a Barbie-doll grill, complete with bubbling pot of corn on a side burner and a chicken spinning on a rotisserie. The prize is mounted on a walnut base with a bronze plate to which the winner's name is added each year.
Before long, Susan announces that the coals are ready and the grilling may ``commence.''
Bill Travis, Johnson & Wales' director of academics, starts tropical chicken with pineapple sauce over the coals on one side of a grill while his son, Mike Travis, prepares Caribbean jerk wings on the other.
Nearby, Steve Marsey, Marisa's husband, who's been preparing all year, makes marinated flank steak with a secret family recipe.
``Simple is better,'' says Reuel Smith, a former J&W chef-instructor who is now in corporate catering. His entry, Brazilian-style pork tenderloin, is skewered above the next grill.
At the next station, Justin Inge, age 9, prepares Angus beef franks with pastrami. Inge, the youngest competitor, is a neighbor of the Batten's. He won last year's contest with a hot dog on a bun accompanied by assorted condiments. He hopes to retain the title.
Justin's father, Dwight Inge, offers up a marinated shrimp dish. And Tim Cameron is grilling, not dog, but a herb-rubbed rockfish with citrus pasta e fagoli.
No rattlesnake. No alligator.
The judges for this contest are three tasters of impeccable judgment, all federal government employees.
The first dish to make it to the judges' table is a lobster and clam appetizer with clam sauce prepared by the Colonels Campbell. Jackie and Jim Campbell are both retired U.S. Marine Corps colonels. Their dish, prepared and garnished to resemble little lobsters, is presented in full military style on a silver platter. The judges are impressed.
The tasting continues. First, by the judges on the lawn, and then on the porch by the crowd that has now grown to about 45.
As the judges eat their last morsels, the scores are close, but decisive. Cameron's rockfish has the lead by a fraction of a point.
Then, looking like Al Pacino in ``Scarface,'' chef-instructor Arturo Elvins arrives and tosses shish kebabs on a vacated grill.
The judges are informed they will have to consume one more entry. The waiting begins.
``Do you have a winner yet?'' yells 9-year-old Justin, looking up from the side of the pool.
There are grumblings about late entries.
Finally, Elvins asks, piling his kebabs on a platter, ``Where are the judges?''
``Up there on the porch,'' replies a wily competitor.
Elvins takes his entry to the porch and the crowd starts eating. Soon, someone fesses up: the judges are on the lawn.
He picks up the platter and takes it to the judges' table. As they dig in, Elvins asks, ``Should I tell you what you're eating?
``These are ostrich kebabs,'' he offers.
``These are good,'' says judge Johnny Hoffman. ``Real good.''
Dressed with tiny purple onions and sweet bell peppers, the ostrich kebabs cause a stir. The judges can't decide with just one serving. It takes two. Sometimes three. They don't allow the platter to return to the porch.
``Do you have a winner?'' yells Justin, still in the pool.
Yes, we do.
Justin Inge, the only minor to compete, wins first place in the juvenile division. For his efforts, he's an oven mitt that looks so much like a cow, Justin thinks it's a puppet.
Steve Marsey's flank steak with secret sauce wins the title of highest-ranking nonprofessional. His prize, a Barbie picnic table, is now proudly displayed in his Chesapeake law office.
Reuel Smith's simple but elegant pork tenderloin wins third place.
Tim Cameron's herb-rubbed rockfish with citrus pasta e fagoli takes second to. . . drum roll. . . Elvin's last-minute ostrich kebabs. ILLUSTRATION: Color photos by L. Todd Spencer
Ed Batten, right, presents Art Elvins with the first-place award for
his winning entry - ostrich kebabs, left.
Tim Cameron, an instructor at Johnson & Wales University, prepares
his entry for this year's Chickasaw Grill-Off.
L. TODD SPENCER /The Virginian-Pilot
David Batten takes a bite of one of Art Elvins' ostrich kebabs, the
winning entry in the 1996 Chickasaw Grill-Off. by CNB