Ross Martin New Sheridan Chop House
By Deb Dion
Every night, chef de cuisine Ross Martin takes the stage at the New Sheridan Chop House, performing feats gastronomique in the open kitchen. After several hours of prepping food and orchestrating the entire cast of kitchen staff, the crowds roll in, and it's showtime. It's like a dance-three, four guys doing 150 to 200 covers. You've got to be on every time, says Martin. That's when it's great. It's a high-energy profession. Organized chaos is kind of what I thrive on.
Martin's mountain kitchen operates at a slow simmer compared to the feverish pace of the Manhattan brasserie, Balthazar, where he cultivated his talents. There, the kitchen would serve 500 or 600 people a night, recalls Martin. But after a few years of commuting on the subway, prepping all day, cooking all night and coming home to my shoebox apartment, Martin decided he missed the mountains of which he had become so fond while in art school in Montana. It was also Montana where Martin says he fell in love with cooking. He missed a lot of classes to ski by day and cook at a French restaurant by night. The city was getting to me. I decided I wanted to get back into the mountains, he says of his move to Telluride in 1999. Now I ski until 1 p.m., kick off the snowboard, walk a block and throw the chef gear on.
Martin found more than just a career here in Telluride. He also discovered his soul mate while bowling in Montrose on a rainy off-season day, and in 2004 he married Amanda Rey. Together, they cooked up their own special dishLylah Rey Martin. And they're my life. Completely, says Martin. After the cramped quarters of New York City, he proclaims their home in Lawson Hill to be
our own little piece of paradise. I can see all the way down valley. There's a creek right by our house. Pine trees, aspens, and crystal blue skies, he says. Here, he has more opportunities to pursue his other interests, he says, such as rock climbing, hockey, boating, and especially skiing and snowboarding.
While some professionals balance their bliss at home with the dreary duties of a career, Martin cherishes his work. Cooking's a passion, he says. You have to be completely into it. When there's a room of people having a great time, enjoying fantastic food, it's absolutely rewarding.
Of course, the dining audience isn't always privy to the behind-the-scenes comedy, the repartee between Martin and his executive sous chef, Spencer Graves, and the rest of the crew. He credits his staff for the fun banter and good working environment, and says the days of the grumpy chef are gone. I'm not a yeller, says Martin. Still, there are the dramatic and humorous moments: the time he broke his hip skiing while he was working at 221 South Oak and was forced to stand on crutches and peel potatoes. Or the time he left the helm at Allred's to run an errand, and a gas line popped off the stove and caught fire. Or when all of the customers had to be evacuated from the ridgeline gondola-accessed restaurant by snow-cats because an avalanche cut off power to the region. If there was a live kitchen camera, there would even be more entertainment value to the evening performances. It's like an ongoing television show, laughs Martin. There's never a dull moment. You've got 150 on the books, you're prepped to the hilt and the grease trap blows.
The young chef is handsome and subtly charming, with a warm, easy smile. But the mild-mannered Martin does admit to having a stage persona, a wild side, albeit one well hidden beneath his chef costume. If this Clark Kent stepped into a phone booth to transform, who is it that he would become? If I could have a second personality, my name would be 'Larry,' and disco and tight polyester clothes would last forever, confesses Martin.
Despite the obvious flair of his alter ego, and how comfortable Martin is when cooking for a crowd, he's still unpretentious and into the simplicity of a good meal. After studying at the French Culinary Institute in Manhattan, working at fine restaurants in the same borough, and executive chef stints at several of Telluride's finest establishments, Martin has perfected his slow, French-based cooking technique. The Chop House menu features steamed mussels with a choice of three different broths, a variety of steak cuts, Alaskan halibut with a sweet-and-sour shallot vinaigrette and assorted cheese plates. Which is ideal for the clientele of the main-street bistro, but what does Martin have for dinner? I'm addicted to philly cheese steaks and have to have at least one a week, says Martin. I think it's a staple of American culinary heritage.