Roland Trettl meets Kenneth Oringer

Moon rock and yoga

On America's East coast Trettl met a cook who takes his inspiration from yoga, seafood and modern cooking techniques to create inspirational dishes – and that man is Ken Oringer. He's cooking in Salzburg in January.

As a native of the South Tyrol, I'm more of an ice-hockey man than an esoteric, but that doesn't interest Ken Oringer, from outstanding Boston restaurant Clio, one jot. He does yoga, and because I didn't want to be a wet blanket, I did an hour with him. I can't recall a single ice-hockey training session that has caused me to be aware of previously undiscovered muscles, for such a long time afterwards, as this exhausting lesson in the capital of Massachusetts.

I was to be taught better on more than one occasion in this great East coast metropolis. For example? Ken's restaurant. At first glance the "Clio", with its almost laughable – for American proportions – 60 covers, is rather a turn-off. I wouldn't be bowled over by either the confused brown carpet, or the white-painted, coffered wood ceiling. All very, very conservative. But as cool guests and calmly professional waiters took over the room, the atmosphere in the restaurant was superb. It's easy to get the wrong impression.

I was also slightly wrong about Ken. With his frequently downcast eyes, the American seems shy and nervous. If he looks at his attractive wife Celine, though, and the menu, it quickly becomes clear that the man would not be what he is today without shyness.

Ken Oringer loves scoring a hit with little-known materials. His motto is "The more unusual, the more exciting for me". This then produces spectacular geoduck mussels with cuttlefish consommé and preserved lemons. Or appealingly rustic braised chervil roots, with an onion and Madeira reduction that he elevates to previously unimagined heights, with parmesan air and shaved Alba truffle. What is really interesting is that Ken regards fish as "rather banal". He much prefers all other seafood, such as a lobster and sea urchin ragout, with lemon zest and samphire. For the ragout broth he steeps parsley roots in milk for hours – a great taste.

The American is the kind of cook who knew from being a child that he one day wanted to become a chef. Having grown up in New Jersey, even as a teen he enjoyed the culinary opportunities of New York, just 40 minutes away by car. He is still grateful to his parents today. "They always took me with them to Chinatown and Little Italy. And at home I was allowed to experiment in the kitchen as much as I wanted. It was very easy for me to fall in love with good food." After a sound training, he later worked for David Burke at New York's "River Café", and very soon progressed to sous-chef with Jean-Georges Vongerichten. And Ken is one of the few top cooks who have also succeeded at patisserie during their careers. Back at home in Salzburg, I immediately told my pâtissier, Christoph Lindpointner, about Ken's "Moon Rock". Chocolate foam, drawn through liquid nitrogen – rock hard on the outside, soft and fluffy inside, served with liquorice sauce and pear sorbet.

He calls his cuisine "contemporary French with Asian impact". With all due respect, as one chef to another, I really had to strenuously object. Asian impact is OK. But what in the world about this surprise-packed cavalcade is "contemporary French"? But is it worth fighting over? I'd rather mention another highlight of Ken's – a whole black truffle baked in a salt crust, accompanied by a pear coulis and soft goat's cheese. As far as I'm concerned, this is a typical Oringer classic, which is like the key to my entire sojourn in Boston – don't judge a book by its cover. Because what at first glance appears to be a lump of hot salt, proves to be a true revelation when you look closer.

Recorded by Christoph Schulte • Photos: Christopher Navin / Red Bull Photofil