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42 Sights and Scenes
Environment-conscious
Jonny Schwass works only
with local produce and
dismisses haute cuisine
with imported luxury
products as nonsense.
himself and put it on a guest’s plate —
and to know how these fl owers tasted
out in the meadow yesterday — than to
serve delicacies that have been shrinkwrapped
long before and fl own in from
some distant part of the world. “People
really don’t have to eat caviar,” he says.
His holistic philosophy also extends to
meat consumption. “People who kill an
animal should always eat the whole animal,”
Schwass says. He believes that
killing ten cows to get 20 fi llet steaks is a
senseless and unethical luxury. He therefore
wants to “demystify” the duck he’s
carving and preparing for the participants
of a cooking event in Auckland that is
being organised in the Gaggenau mobile
kitchen in cooperation with the New Zealand
magazine DISH. He uses the skin of
the neck as a sausage casing, the head
and feet will later be roasted and then
reduced to stock, and the fat will be melted
to use as lard. “It’s wonderful for
roasts,” he says. But what about the cholesterol?
The chef simply laughs: “I love
butter and animal fats. They’re the best
carriers of fl avours.”
Despite his baroque exuberance,
Schwass handles the raw meat with extreme
gentleness. He poaches the duck
breasts in a plastic bag just barely simmering
in a double boiler. This method of
cooking food at temperatures below the
boiling point, which is known as “sous
vide”, is once again becoming very popular.
“Slow and low” is his motto. In the
very last step, the meat is roasted to
make the crust crispy. Without having the
necessary kitchen technology, Schwass
could not achieve the top quality for
which he is receiving accolades — and
numerous awards — from a growing
number of New Zealanders and visitors
from abroad. He swears by his Combisteam
oven and his induction cooktop.
Until just a few years ago, he still believed
that cooking with gas was the opti-
mal method. After all, he had grown up
in the tradition of the “raging, racing,
testosterone-driven chefs” who frantically
manoeuvre pots and pans across open
fl ames — a cooking style that is a brutal
struggle with the elements and the
employees.
“If you wanted to shoot a reality show
in my kitchen, you’d bore your viewers to
death, because it’s so quiet here —
there’s no cursing and no panic,” grins
Schwass, who is an advocate of “slow
food”. When he’s in his kitchen, he takes
his time; in fact, some of his dishes take
hours or even days to prepare. And he
merely laughs at the complicated artworks
presented by TV chefs — creations
that tower over the heads of the guests
and sugar spirals that could stab your
eyes out. “Food is not an art,” he says.
“Food is life.”
Schwass has experienced this truth at
fi rst hand. The fi rst time was ten years
ago, when he was diagnosed with cancer
and underwent chemotherapy, and the
second time was half a year ago when his
city was devastated by the earthquake.
Ever since these two experiences, he has
focused on the essentials — the things
that really count. “If worse comes to
worst,” he says, “I’d prefer to surround
myself with good wine, delicious food
and happy people.” He will soon be able
to do just that, but hopefully without experiencing
any further catastrophes: at
the end of this year his new restaurant
will be opening in Christchurch. This
time it will be simpler, even more inviting,
and less exclusive. “I want it to feel as
though you’re eating in someone’s
home,” he says. “Being together with
other people has become more important
for us.” Until his restaurant opens,
Schwass is making do with the
Gaggenau mobile showroom. There he
can work on his new dishes and try them
out right away at his private dinners.