The (Mostly Untold) Tales of Carlos Gaytán
CARLOS GAYTÁN SCOOPED DUCK FAT INTO A HOT PAN AND ADDED CHOPPED ONIONS AND A GENEROUS SPOONFUL OF MINCED GARLIC, THEN APPLIED HIS LIGHTNING-FAST CHOPPING SKILLS TO ROSEMARY LEAVES AND TOSSED THEM IN, ALONG WITH A MOUND OF DUCK CONFIT, WHICH HIT THE PAN WITH A FRAGRANT SIZZLE.
It was a Friday morning in early February, and the 49-year-old chef was preparing his spin on the venerable French dish duck rillettes. His slicked-back black hair tickled the back of his neck. His brown eyes glanced up from behind the red-framed glasses that have become his trademark. “At this point,” he said, nodding at the pan, “it’s speaking French.” He tasted the mixture, sprinkled in some salt. “But the way I finish it will be Mexican.”
With that, he zested a lime over the confit, whipped up a salsa macha of dried chiles, ginger, and garlic, and splashed it in, letting loose a blast of spicy steam. The rillettes would be used as the filling for tetelas, triangular pockets of masa, that, in another Mexican exclamation point, would be topped with a poblano mole and plated alongside two other duck preparations.
Such a French-Mexican mash-up was a staple of Gaytán’s previous culinary life at Mexique, the West Town restaurant where where he earned a Michelin star. But now he is aiming higher. Much higher.
Gaytán was preparing his rillettes in the kitchen of Tzuco, the wildly popular Mexican comfort food destination he opened in September along with the grab-and-go bakery Panango!, but later in the day he moved to an almost hidden dining room under the same roof. Shades of gray dominate this intimate space, the walls lined with glass cases containing various artifacts — broken pottery, puffs of hay, wooden spoons, twigs, ceramic plates — from the chef’s native Mexico. At the room’s center was a single table set for 12. The occupants of those seats, due to arrive at 7 p.m., had paid $225 each for the privilege of being the first to experience a new restaurant intended to do no less than define Gaytán’s life.
The chef positioned himself in the room’s tiny kitchen overlooking the long table and began to chop raw venison, seasoning it with ground chipotle, which deepened the meat’s crimson color. His energy remained even, centered, as he prepped this tartare, one of the 11 courses on the evening’s tasting menu. “Venison reminds me of home,” he told
