Culinary WHIRLED / CHEF

In His Prime

A seaworthy chef celebrates five years in fine dining.

By Victoria Bradley | Photography by Megan Wylie

When I first meet Derek Stevens, he is the executive chef at Casbah, and we spend the afternoon feasting on one of his favorite maritime menus — and stories of fishing with his father. In describing the fervor he demonstrates for all things oceanic, I note in the story that he has “sea storm eyes” to match his watery passion.

He never hears the end of it, and neither do I. The other chefs in the big Burrito restaurant group notoriously tease him, and when I visit them, I am always met with pleas to not assign any visionary metaphors. I offer apologies again as I scoot into the chef’s table at Eleven for dinner with Stevens.

This month marks the five-year anniversary for big Burrito’s fine dining flagship; Stevens has commanded the kitchen nearly since its inception, coming to Eleven from Casbah in February 2005, just eight short months after the opening. “I’m always looking to get more intimately involved,” he says of Eleven, “always finding new farms to work with.” He trips quickly through a list of farmer friends: Harvest Valley’s Art King, Heritage Farms’ Peter Burns, and Cherry Valley Organics’ Jodi and Evan Verbanic. All are accomplices in his earthy menu.

Stevens is most passionate about the salad. “Can I sit down and talk to you about it?” he asks, wide-eyed. It’s a gorgeous heap of Mesclun greens, grown at Three Sisters Farm in Sandy Lake. “I think it’s incredible,” Stevens says. “There are, like, 27 different things in there, and they’re unique and weird, the things you’d see growing in the cracks in the sidewalk out here, but Darrell [Frey, owner of Three Sisters Farm] actually plants and nurtures them.”

It is the salad of my life — in all of its unique weirdness — a true Mesclun mix, in the traditional French sense, with wild sorrel and chickweeds and lamb’s lettuce and bronze fennel and kale and peppermint. There’s a little tree-like piece that I expect to taste like broccoli but is actually more like wild mustard. It’s what Alice Waters would have for dinner. (In fact, on her last visit to Pittsburgh, she did.)

“This salad is what I look forward to every spring,” he says. “And Darrell delivers it himself, every Thursday. I know how much he cares about this.”

I am reminded immediately of what Kahlil Gibran says about eating in The Prophet: “Let it be an act of worship.”

I genuflect again over a mushroom and pesto crostini with wild ramp butter. Plucking the charming sandwich from the plate produces the precious surprise of two teeny sprouts hiding underneath. It is clever and pretty nearly perfect with a bubbly flute of tart Leon Palais Blanc de Blanc.

Stevens chauffeurs me up to the wine loft that doubles as a meat-curing closet. Proscuitto ages up there for at least a year. Tonight, he serves a sampling of his favorites: coppa secca, black peppercorn prosciutto, and bresaola. There’s a hot smear of mustard and a witty pile of cornichons.

The next course — yellowtail sashimi — is a stark juxtaposition and remarkably light, with drizzles of Meyer lemon miso with fresh ginger and spicy soy. The salad on top is chopped cucumbers and radish and a bright orange blossom that, on first bite, is rather floral, but it has hot, peppery flash, not unlike wasabi, and then cools again.

Stevens segues into spring salmon, which smells warm and heady and not at all like seafood. This is thanks mostly to the locally foraged ramps, picked by sous chef Chad Townsend. Crunchy pancetta salts the plate and is also the most aggressive texture. Bright English peas knob around, lighter than popcorn and just as buttery, and a littleneck clam sweetens the whole thing; it tastes like banana nut bread.

A pour of 2006 Louis Latour Valmoissine Pinot Noir could be a course in itself. The wine smells steely, spicy. I expect it to be dry, but it tastes like wet berry lipstick.

The next dish I’m convinced is a mind read, combining my two loves in life: lamb and tacos. Stevens crisps a corn tortilla from Rania’s and sanctifies it with refried lentils and roasted tomatillo coulis and then a sweet stack of shredded lamb.

Eleven has its own pastry kitchen, and Chef Ericka Idler is in charge back there, and her culinary style is drastically different from that of Stevens, though they complement one another well. Where Stevens is subtle and understated, Eichler is brazen and bold.

Her dessert is indulgent. A chocolate peanut butter cookie cracks with pretzel crumbles and is streaked with a hazelnut spread, topped with a crisp layer of chocolate, a ball of chocolate peanut butter ice cream, and sided with homemade peanut brittle. It is as rich and dreamy as it sounds.

At the end of the meal, Stevens slides into the booth again — to check on me, but mostly to review my notes for any out-to-sea comparisons I may have made. “Actually, if I could find a way to make a living fishing, I so would,” Stevens admits, going back to our maritime theme. He drifts into conversation about early summertime mornings on the lake with his own two sons, Desmond and Gavin, and proudly produces a iPhone photo of two boys with aqua stares. “Now those are sea storm eyes,” he says.

And I have a feeling the other chefs won’t object.

Eleven, 1150 Smallman St., Strip District. 412.201.5656. bigburrito.com/eleven.


Anniversary Events at Eleven

Yellowtail sashimi

June 11 Veuve Clicquot Wine Dinner
Six-course Dinner paired with Veuve Clicquot wines, $150

June 12-13 Complimentary Champagne
Free Veuve Clicquot Brut Yellow Label for each dining room guest

June 13 Five of Eleven: Lounge Party
Complimentary dessert hors d’oeuvres served in the bar and lounge

June 14 Five of Eleven: Wine for Charity
100 percent of wine by the bottles sales donated to Greater Pittsburgh Food Bank


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