By Stacey Morris
Staff Writer
Published in The Post-Star newspaper 8/5/01
The Trillium's Sagamore Brunch is served from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. every Sunday. The cost is $28 for adults, $14 for children 6 to 12 and $7 for those 5 and under. Call 644-9400 or (800) 358-3585 for information and reservations.
BOLTON LANDING ---- On the sloping hill in front of The Sagamore's east wing were nestled the trappings of a languid summer morning: hotel guests lounging on Adirondack chairs, waking up to a breeze blowing in from the lake; seagulls drifting overhead and the sun sparkling on the surface of Lake George.
At the top of the hill leading to The Trillium, a Mobil four-star restaurant, an entirely different scene was unfolding.
It was 9 a.m. Sunday and a cotillion of chefs and waiters was scurrying about. They were setting out to open The Trillium's doors for brunch at 11 a.m. and in the process to create a sensory fantasy to rival the most decadent food dream, filled with live music, polished silver, pitchers overflowing with fresh-squeezed orange juice and banquet tables laden with raspberries, omelets and waffles, shrimp cocktail, applewood-smoked bacon, eggs Benedict, hardwood-smoked tenderloin with Madeira and horseradish jus of beef and oven-roasted Gulf red snapper with yellow and crimson lentil salad, cilantro pesto and toasted pumpkin seeds.
Overseeing was Sagamore's Executive Chef Tom Guay, who typically arrives at work at 7 a.m. on Sunday.
"I've been wanting to bring Sunday brunch back to The Trillium," said Guay, taking giant steps through the Trillium kitchen on black Danish clogs.
As the head chef, Guay charts a creative vision for the hotel's menu, then sees it to fruition with the help of a kitchen staff of nearly 30 people.
A native of Glens Falls, the 37-year-old Guay returned to working at The Sagamore last December after four years at Nemacolin Woodlands Resort and Spa in Pennsylvania.
"First and foremost we wanted to bring back the brunch to showcase the talents of the crew," he said. "But it's certainly ended up enhancing our guests' experience."
Guay said The Trillium's Sunday brunch, which he reinstated in late July after a nearly eight-year absence, is steadily gaining in popularity.
"When you stop something for almost eight years, it takes a while to build it back up again, but it's happening.
"The Trillium is such a beautiful room, it just lends itself to doing a brunch like this."
Those who've never tried The Trillium because of its elegant reputation needn't be timid about venturing into the soft pink, pillared dining room, he said.
"It's a casual elegance, not stuffy. There's no coat or tie required for brunch," he said. "And from a cuisine standpoint, you can't get more basic than an omelet cooked right before your eyes."
The underbelly
Guay
is the leader of a brigade of pastry chefs, prep cooks and head chefs whose
mission it is to create a dazzling brunch experience.
"Each week I meet with the butcher, garde-manger chef (in charge of the cold food) and Trillium chef," he said. "We change the carving items and entrees depending on what's in season."
Last weekend, it was hand-carved, hardwood-smoked tenderloin in Madeira and horseradish jus of beef; oven-roasted gulf red snapper with yellow and crimson lentil salad, cilantro pesto and toasted pumpkin seeds; pan-seared veal medallions and hand-roasted squab, with golden chanterelles and bourbon sweet potatoes in a sage cream.
The Trillium brunch also has standards like eggs cooked any way, sausage, croissants and English muffins.
To accomplish the brunch takes not hours, but days. The pastry chefs begin crafting their work on Friday and continue through Sunday morning making muffins, Danish, petits fours and pastries.
At 9:30 a.m. Sunday, Guay wended his way through the steam-filled trenches of the kitchen's second floor.
He stopped at a stove where chef Ken Lingle and line cook Ursula Canfield were preparing hot entrees.
As Lingle quartered a roasted squab, Canfield diced chanterelle mushrooms.
"Ken, is this too fine?"
"Yes," said Lingle, adding a splash of bourbon to a pot of mashed sweet potatoes.
As Guay continued, passing two waiters polishing china plates in the pantry, he explained that preparing the brunch was only part of what the kitchen staff would be working on that day.
"We're doing a dinner on the front lawn for a convention of about 600 people," he said. "Then there's cooking food for the other restaurants in the hotel: the Verandah, Dining Room and the Morgan."
Heading downstairs, Guay was met in the basement by crates of fresh produce being carted off a freight elevator.
Nearby, Ryan MacIsaac, an extern from the Culinary Institute of Canada, was shucking a sink full of clams, splitting them open with a sharp knife and removing conductor muscles in a single fluid motion.
"This is my first externship at a major operation," MacIsaac said as a bathtub vat of veal stock simmered behind him. "At a place this size, I can get experience in any specialty I want."
Across the room head pastry chef Andy Van Bourgondien was putting the finishing touches on loaves of peach and sun-dried cranberry strudel.
"I started these yesterday," said Van Bourgondien, who arrived on the job at 3:30 a.m. "They've been frozen overnight and we're baking them today."
Behind him, pastry chef Larissa McKenny was finishing two carrot cakes, writing the word "carrot" in chocolate icing on each slice.
"People love this part of the brunch," said Guay, surveying a tray full of petits fours wrapped in parchment paper.
Around the corner head baker Tom Rougan was setting out a cornucopia of Italian bread on a serving cart to be taken upstairs and filled with fresh-baked croissants and muffins.
"It's about the overall presentation of everything," said Guay. "Not just getting the food out."
Croissants and
chain saws
Back
on ground level, in the sunlit serving room, Henri Anatole was zipping back
and forth around corners to oversee the progress of the waitstaff.
As maitre d'hotel, it's Anatole's job to see that all aspects of the dining room operate smoothly.
He rushed to the podium to double-check on a reservation, then scurried around a corner to assess the progress of two waiters polishing silverware.
As a waitress placed silver urns of fresh floral bouquets on each table, another sat at a table, folding pink linen napkins into mini-tents.
Back in the kitchen, the final touches were under way at 10:30 a.m. As coffee brewed, Canfield prepared to poach more than two dozen eggs in a vat of water for the eggs Benedict. The English muffins were toasted and the Hollandaise sauce whisked. Canfield had to poach each egg so it would come out cooked but with the soft yolk intact.
"The chef wants everything out at 10:45 a.m.," Anatole said breathlessly.
Suddenly, Rougan appeared with enough baked goods to fill a small car. Holding a rectangular tray on one palm like an artist's palette, Rougan arranged croissants, muffins and Danish in and around his bread cornucopia.
First, the cold food was rolled out on carts: fresh fruit, cheeses, breads, smoked salmon, grilled asparagus, portobello mushroom ravioli, chilled gulf shrimp and a platter of artisan cheeses.
A few minutes later, the hot food was cradled in chafing dishes.
Then the desserts.
Assistant
pastry chef Melissa McGovern filled the table with plates of tiramisu, petits
fours, pannacotta, creme caramel, cheesecake, chocolate ganache torte, chocolate
hazelnut mousse torte, plum tart and peach strudel.
"The mini-pastries are the hardest thing to get right," she said, stepping back to survey her work. "I've been out of school for five years and I'm still learning."
As the serving tables filled with food, The Trillium grew rife with aromas: basil, chocolate, smoky bacon, fresh berries, onions for the omelets.
To commemorate the opening weekend of Saratoga Race Course, garde-manger chef Tony De Stratis had concocted a nearly life-sized ice sculpture of a thoroughbred as the buffet's centerpiece.
"I just do it with a chain saw," he smiled as he circled the frozen edifice complete with flowing mane.
After platters of food are in place, Lingle and Tony DeStratis take the waitstaff on a brief tour of each new dish so they'll be versed when the customers come.
The welcome
For one
sublime minute, all was still.
A ray of morning sun cut through the paned glass window and sparkled off the chiseled thoroughbred.
A small crowd had gathered outside the French doors, peering eagerly into the restaurant.
Suddenly Anatole parted the doors and welcomed them.
Anatole is a consummate maitre d', the kind seen in movies or read of in travel magazines, who can make a guest feel like the most special person on the planet.
As he checked off the names of arrivals, Anatole beamed a smile to each one, maintaining firm eye contact and exuding joy.
"I grew up in this business with my parents' restaurant in France," he smiled. "I suppose it's in my blood."
He seemed pleased as he breezed back and forth among the tables.
Then the brunch's success was confirmed.
At a table for two, a woman's eyes widened in astonishment after biting into one of Van Bourgondien's five-layer pastry cakes made of chocolate ganache, chocolate couveture and mocha butter cream. "Oh my God," she moaned, rolling her head to one side. "These are so good I could cry."
Anatole smiled and bowed before heading back to the reservation stand.
"I will be sure to tell the chef."