When first lady Michelle Obama flipped a few spades of sod this spring to start a vegetable garden on the White House lawn, Alice Waters saw a dream come true.
Waters, founder of Chez Panisse in Berkeley, Calif., and arguably the mother of the American Slow Food movement, has tried to persuade multiple U.S. presidents to grow radishes alongside the roses on the nation's most revered turf. But as her 16-year effort has proven, that's one long row to hoe.
Waters first planted the seeds of her vision in the mind of President Bill Clinton when he dined at Chez Panisse in 1993. But when nothing came of the conversation, she again beseeched the world's most powerful man with another letter — and smartly copied then-first lady Hillary Clinton on it. Mrs. Clinton responded by having a small rooftop garden built, but that wasn't good enough for Waters.
She wanted America's best-known Big Mac fan to be so out loud and proud about the national need for fresh foods that he'd put a garden on the ground where everyone could see it. But he didn't.
And surely Clinton thought Alice had slipped off to wonderland when she wrote a third and final request, stating, "I can think of no more powerful way to ground your legacy than to leave behind you a kitchen garden and the compost pile to nourish it."
"It hasn't been easy, but it finally happened," Waters says, referring to Mrs. Obama's veggie patch. While helping raise money for Barack Obama's presidential campaign last year, Waters got his and his wife's ears and repeated the plea she'd made many times before. "It doesn't matter that she'll have a lot of help doing it, what's important is the statement it makes."
That fresh, pesticide-free food is a right granted to everyone. That the consumption of whole foods could help the nation's obesity problem. That locally grown foods taste better than their long-hauled counterparts.
For her contributions to the restaurant industry, Waters won NRN’s 2009 Fine Dining Legend Award. Previous Legends include New York’s Jerry Berns, André Soltner and Sirio Maccionni as well as New Orleans’ Paul Prudhomme and Ella Brennan.
Since starting Chez Panisse in 1971 with the simple goal "of having a place to cook for my friends," Waters has taught America not only how to enjoy fresh foods at their simplest, but how to savor their meals. Thirty-eight years later, at age 65, the former Montessori school teacher is a respected icon among the culinary elite, and a friend to many heads of state.
She's immensely pleased that her restaurant — divided into a 50-seat restaurant on the first floor and an 85-seat cafe on the second floor — has spawned industry imitators, but she is newly focused on teaching the virtues of healthful eating to America's school children, a group better acquainted with fried chicken nuggets than fresh cauliflower.
At a middle school in Berkeley, she started a program called the Edible Schoolyard, where students learn how to cultivate a garden and prepare its bounty. This pursuit, says Paul Prudhomme, may be her most significant yet.
"I don't know of anyone who has more passion for young people and gardening and what they mean to this country," says Prudhomme, founder of K-Paul's Louisiana Kitchen in New Orleans. "Those kids need her help. I can see her doing that for them until the day she dies."
Though her current vision and its duties stretch far beyond her groundbreaking restaurant, Waters is quick to say she's out of balance when away from Chez Panisse. Traveling in particular "is driving me crazy right now because I don't have a rhythm in my life. That's unsettling because I need that consistency of cooking, of the kitchen."
When she's there, her presence is powerful and motivating, says Chez Panisse general manager Jennifer Sherman.
"She's just got the most amazing energy; she pretty much leaves everybody in the dust," Sherman says. "I think that comes from the enthusiasm she has for what she's doing and believes in. That really rubs off on people."
Chris Bianco, artisan pizza maker and owner of Pizzeria Bianco in Phoenix, says Waters "omnipresence in the industry" influenced chefs first, but is now "changing American culture."
"She's a national treasure, not just for chefs, but for everyone, because of how she's made us look at our pantries and what we serve people," says Bianco, a longtime Waters fan who was shocked to look up from his work one evening to see the chef and her soft smile on the other side of the counter. "She's affected millions of people all over the world and she's affecting millions more. People are starting to understand that less is more in food, that simplicity is so important."
Waters is careful to point out, however, that any talk of sustainable food practices is worth little if people don't also cultivate sustainable lifestyles. Most American chefs work too many hours under highly stressful circumstances, she says, and points out that chefs at Chez Panisse job share by working three days a week — while being paid for five.
"Theirs is definitely a different kind of restaurant life," she says. "On the four days they're off each week, they have time for family. ... Working six days a week burns you out. That's not a healthy lifestyle and it's not what this place is about."
Though the boss gives the staff relaxed schedules, that doesn't mean she's not demanding, Sherman says. In the past, when she has flown with Waters to foreign countries for Slow Food events, "if Alice says we need 20 bushels of the most beautiful organic apples you've ever seen, we make it happen because she does not compromise — ever."
Waters' high standards can make life "maddening at times," Sherman adds, but when the chef's aims are achieved, Sherman says it's easy to see why she strives for such perfection.
"It's always incredibly gratifying to watch it happen, because you see how the attention to those details really moves people," Sherman says. "When you get the chance to watch people get it, to really understand what she's after, that's a wonderful thing."
