In Memoriam

Chef Paul Haeberlin, my dear friend and mentor, passed away this past Saturday at the age of 84. He took the helm at his family’s restaurant after the second World War, renamed it Auberge de l’Ill, and transformed it into a dining destination that has held three Michelin stars for over forty years. A true artist in the kitchen, Chef Haeberlin changed my life with his cooking, teaching, and commitment to both.

Knowing my passion for food, my parents took me to my first haute cuisine dinner at Auberge de l’Ill for my sixteenth birthday. That meal confirmed my calling to become a chef. I had never tasted flavors so refined or experienced a meal so perfect. I wanted to be the chef who created that most luxurious dish – a whole Périgord truffle wrapped in foie gras and buttery pastry.

So, I did the next best thing and began an apprenticeship under Chef Haeberlin. Every day, he taught me the importance of choosing the best ingredients, bringing out the best in their natural flavors, and presenting them beautifully. Chef Haeberlin had developed strong friendships with local hunters and they returned his loyalty by bringing him their first and finest catches. Throughout the hunting season, we got a steady supply of plump pheasants, partridges, woodcocks, and quail. As a junior apprentice, I was assigned the tedious task of plucking them. For up to sixteen hours a day, I would inhale their pungent (to put it mildly) smell while yanking off their feathers and throwing them into giant bags at my feet.

Anyone who has ever plucked a bird, still warm from the hunt, knows just how hard it is to pull the feathers cleanly from the skin. I wasn’t allowed to wet the birds first, which causes the feathers to release more easily, because Chef Haeberlin wanted the skins dry to enhance their texture and flavor. To remove any remaining bits of fuzz, I had to carefully flambé the skin to keep it whole and further dry it. I can’t say that I enjoyed it, but by the end I came to understand the value of the technique. Any frustrations I had with the process disappeared with a bite of his exquisitely-prepared pheasant; it was clear that each step had made a huge difference in the final dish. Hunting is no longer permitted in the region, and game birds are now plucked by giant machines, but I’ve not forgotten the value in personally sourcing and meticulously preparing the best ingredients, no matter how laborious the process.

That was just one of many cooking lessons, but the daily life lesson Chef Haeberlin taugh me was the importance of family, including the restaurant staff. His brother ran the front of the house in my time, and now his daughter does, with his son heading the kitchen. But he considered all of the restaurant staff as family. He treated us with warmth and respect, encouraging us in our careers and leading by example, focused on the stove and not the publicity that his Michelin stars generated.

This past September, I was privileged to be at a Michelin party given in his honor. To celebrate his more than four decades as a three-star chef, all of his former apprentices gathered to toast him at Auberge de l’Ill. Scanning the room of stellar chefs, I realized that he had shaped generations of us and altered the way the world enjoys food from his quiet corner of France.

I certainly wasn’t the only one whose life he changed, but it’s no exaggeration to say that I simply wouldn’t be who I am and where I am without my great mentor and friend.