Lunch Lessons: The Story of a Gourmet Cafeteria Chef
By INSUNG CHO

One hundred fifty pounds of unthawed oxtails were piled high on the stainless steel counter of an industrial kitchen in East Harlem one morning in February. Andrew Benson, the executive chef, began the meticulous task of slicing and carving off the frozen excess fat, preparing the meat for tomorrow’s lunch.

Benson and his sous-chef, Clinton Nixon, were not plying their artistry for the palates of New York’s high-end diners. Instead, they were creating school cafeteria food for the 865 elementary and middle schools students that attend the charter school Harlem Promise Academies.

The task took four hours – far longer than Benson thought. He was irritated. Benson estimated that 100 of the 150 pounds of meat were fat. He called his supplier at Sysco and gave him an earful.

Sysco is one of the largest food distribution companies in North America. The company supplies all types of fresh and cooked foods, including seafood, beverages, and ready-made desserts, to large organizations including high-end restaurants and hotels. Benson receives a shipment of food weekly, and the vendor appreciates his business. To appease Benson, the vendor agreed to send a free case of fruit juice for the elementary school with the next delivery.

Fruit juice is as close to ice cream as it gets at the Promise Academies, and the students treat it like manna falling from the heavens.

“Last week the eighth graders bum rushed Sharif, one of Benson’s kitchen staff, and stole all the juice,” said Margaret Millner, a member of Benson’s staff. As a result, there is now a sign on the refrigerator door where the juice is kept:

“No juice for the eighth-grade lunch until further notice—the kitchen staff. Learn to respect where you eat.”

Juice is the first thing Benson takes away when the students misbehave. And even when they are not being punished, students can only have one cup, because fruit juice is high in sugar and calories.

This careful enforcement is a result of Benson’s ultimate goal: to change the eating habits of the students. Benson runs a nutrition-rich food program with the passion of an artist and the determination of a military drill sergeant. He eschewed hob-nobbing with the wealthy five-star restaurant crowd in order to teach kids in Harlem how exquisite school lunch can be, with the right amount of love, and the right amount of low-fat foods. It’s a mission he hopes to bring to the curriculum in all of the Promise Academies schools and beyond.

Benson wants to expose the students to what is out there in the world of food. He hopes to teach them to respect their bodies and what they put into them. “It’s not about the amount, it’s about eating healthy,” he said.

He finds the food in school cafeterias “disturbing” and describes it as, “something he wouldn’t feed a dog.”

The concern over student diet is one that is currently gripping the nation. According to National Center for Health Statistics, 17 percent of the nation’s adolescents are overweight. If this trend continues, the Center for Disease Control and Prevention predicts that 30 to 40 percent of children today will have diabetes in their lifetimes. Such alarming statistics have led many school districts to overhaul their lunch programs, reducing fried food and fillers and increasing vegetables.

New York City is one of the districts attempting to revamp school food. Changes have been made—the milk is 1 percent fat, bread is made from whole wheat, and salad bars have been introduced—yet many of the traditional staples still exist. Chicken nuggets, mozzarella sticks, tater tots, and fried patties are regularly on school menus. In comparison, Benson whips up tilapia Veracruz, Moo Shu vegetable, and pot roast. The food service program at the Promise Academies is a model for the ideal school lunch, provided everyone has the same equipment, money, and flexibility as Benson.

While the rest of New York City schools spend about $3 to feed a child, Benson spends $6. Most schools in New York are not equipped with working kitchens. Benson and his staff cook 99 percent of the meals from scratch. Public schools use excess government farm commodities because the cost for the products is heavily subsidized. Benson does not. The beef he uses is grass fed. Produce is supplied from farms that use limited pesticides. Pastas and bread are made from whole wheat.

Benson is careful not to be outlandish with his spending, but he has no official budget. Private funding allows leeway, said Marty Lipp, the spokesman for Harlem Children’s Zone, the non-profit organization with which the schools are associated. Created by Geoffrey Canada, the Harlem Children’s Zone (HCZ) is a project aimed at revitalizing East Harlem, one of the poorest neighborhoods in New York City. The ambitious goal of the Center is to turn the area around in one generation. To do this, the Center provides a multitude of services such as immunizations, job training, child rearing classes, SAT prep, fitness and cooking classes—all free to the area’s residents. The main focus of the organization, however, is the schools. The students, chosen by random lottery, are from low-income families in the neighborhood.

Harlem has one of the highest diabetes rates in the city according to the 2006 Community Health profile issued by the New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene. This statistic, coupled with the fact that 44 percent of entering students were overweight, compelled Canada to initiate the healthy food program. But while credit for the idea goes to Canada, implementing it is Benson’s responsibility.

“Andrew [Benson] wields great power here,” said David Rosenberg, an eighth grade English teacher at the middle school.

Teaching after lunch used to be impossible, said Rosenberg, referring to the school where he previously worked. The kids were “off the hook,” he said, but now “they are much more subdued.”

Rosenberg attributes much of this to the food. “You can’t maximize instruction if kids are sugared up, filled with carbs and without breakfast,” he said. “Eating healthy supports better learning.”

* * *

Benson’s commitment to healthy cuisine may stem from the fact that he is not a typical cafeteria cook. He holds a culinary degree from Johnson & Wales University, one of the top places in the country to train for the field. As a student he interned at ritzy restaurants in 4-star hotels in New York such as the W, the Garden City Hotel, and the Rhiga Royal. According to his father, Mark Benson, Benson could easily have worked at one of these establishments.

“The Rhiga Royal offered him a position,” said Benson’s father. “I know the executive chef was really happy with the work that he did.”

Instead, Benson happily calls himself a “glorified lunch lady.” He dreamed once of owning his own restaurant like all culinary students, but the appeal quickly faded after he saw his own friends try and fail. The hours are long and time off is rare, said Benson.

Furthermore, Benson isn’t interested in fame. He has little admiration for celebrity chefs like Jean Georges Vongericheten, Alain Ducasse, and Mario Batali. These chefs cater to the rich and famous and make millions with their restaurants or TV shows. Benson rarely watches the Food Network and expresses no desire to have his own TV cooking show. The weekend when Prince Charles and Camilla Parker Bowles visited the school he chose to go to Vegas.

“I like working around kids and not snooty adults,” said Benson.

“As far as complaints, like he wishes he was in a restaurant, I’ve never heard that,” said Andrew Billingsley, a childhood friend.

“He really enjoys what he’s doing and I think if anything he would like to see a wider distribution of what he does at HCZ,” said Billingsley.

According to Billingsley, Benson has always been a foodie. “He was the only kid that knew what foie gras was at age 12,” he said.

“He would eat strange things,” said Benson’s father. “The greatest memories I have of him as a kid was when he was in first grade. Normal kids come and have milk and cookies, not Andrew. We had to keep instant miso soup packets in the house, dried seaweed and Nori crackers,” said the elder Benson.

Benson credits his father for his interest in food. A clothing importer and exporter, the elder Benson still dreams of opening his own restaurant one day and prides himself on his willingness to try anything once.

While Benson was growing up, he and his father often had conversations about food. They would also go on weekly outings to try different ethnic cuisines, said Benson.

Benson grew up in Queens, New York and still lives there today in a small apartment he recently purchased in the Bay Side neighborhood. As a teenager he worked at two small mom and pop shops in Queens. It was at these establishments that he received his first professional culinary experiences. He learned how to bake authentic New York bagels and differentiate cuts of meat.

He attended a public high school in Queens, Benjamin N. Cardozo High School. Benson admits he was a terrible student. “I got mostly D’s,” he said. “I was lucky I graduated.” He made a turn around in culinary school by studying hard and scoring high grades.

Originally, Benson thought he would work in food marketing. After college he held a marketing position at a sushi company, but he couldn’t resist the lure of working in a kitchen. He landed a culinary position at Food Change, an advocacy organization. Its mission was to provide food education and assistance to those who have difficulty obtaining healthy meals. It was there, he said, that he developed an interest in nutrition education for children. It was also through this organization that Benson met Canada and got his job at the Harlem Children’s Zone.

* * *

It’s 11:30 a.m., and the lunch rush is beginning. The giggling sixth graders, dressed in their red, white and black uniforms, skip into the cafeteria. Benson stands in the dining room, observing the students as they grab the brightly colored plastic trays before assembling themselves on the food line. Benson is dressed as usual in a chef’s hat, black slacks, and black Merrill clogs. He is slim and of average height and wears his short caramel colored hair slightly spiked.

Many of the students wave “hi” to Benson, and he greets many of them by name. Oxtails are the main attraction. They are seasoned with jerk spices and served with yellow rice and peas and stewed cabbage. One by one the kids take their plates, without complaint, and find seats at one of the tablecloth-covered round tables. Some do wrinkle their noses or ask about the meat but, by this point in the year, most stifle any instinct to protest.

“You get in trouble if you say ‘nasty,’” said 12-year-old Yacouba Sidibe.

Benson punishes students who complain by kicking them to the back of the lunch line.

“If one kid says it, then it will start off a chain reaction and none of them will eat the food,” he said, explaining his limited tolerance for complaints.

Since part of Benson’s mission is to get the children to try new foods, a simple “ewww” can set him back completely. It can lead to a grade-wide revolt against, say, the bok choy and Korean BBQ being served that day. It also means the students will go hungry. Students are forbidden to bring outside food into the school. Staff must also abide by this rule to keep from tempting the kids.

The student reaction to the food is mixed. Some, like seventh grader Ray Briggs, love most of it. Briggs has even tried to cook some of the food at home.

“I’ve tried to make the pizza and the tortilla and the chicken pasta,” he said.

“I like the school lunch,” said Andrew Crowder, a sixth grader. “It’s healthy food, but it tastes like home cooking.”

Others are less than thrilled with the healthy focus.

“They don’t put enough fat in the food,” said Tonicia Merchant, a seventh grader at Promise Academy middle school.

“I understand why the fat people need it, but they should let the skinny people eat what they want,” said Shantae Hicks, another seventh grader.

By 1 p.m. all the students have been fed, and it seems the meal was a success. The plates are clean, and only scraps have been tossed into the trash. Lunch is over, but Benson’s only half-way through his day. He still has to deal with vendor negotiations, billing and paperwork. Visitors interested in the food program also stop by. And there is an afternoon meeting to discuss the rooftop garden he’d like to start. Later, the after-school cooking program will begin and keep him busy until 7 or 8 o’clock this evening. By then he can call it a day, but not before he decides what to serve for lunch tomorrow. Oven baked chicken and steamed broccoli? It’s a likely contender.