A chef who's in command

Chef Amy Tornquist conjures the determination of Rosie the Riveter and the chutzpah of Anthony Bourdain.

The owner of Watts Grocery and Sage & Swift Catering holds her own in the male-dominated world of restaurant chef/owners; she's one of only three highly successful female chef/owners in the Triangle. She's also a wife and mother. (She and her husband and business partner, Jeremy Kerman, have two daughters, Katie and Lizzie, ages 5 and 8.)

As an undergraduate at UNC-CH, Tornquist was an honor student studying Russian and American history headed toward a life in academia. But a stint baking and cooking with legendary chef Bill Neal at Crook's Corner in Chapel Hill changed her course. Neal encouraged her to attend cooking school. That early experience - followed by studying at La Varenne Cooking School and time spent at Hominy Grill with chef Robert Stehling in Charleston, S.C., and City Grocery with John Currence in Oxford, Miss. - sealed her fate.

When I arrive on a Friday afternoon to observe dinner service, Tornquist and her staff are chatting about dating, new cell phones, the N.C. State Fair and that night's meals. During the noisy exchange, Tornquist is focused, manning her MacBook and a pink BlackBerry that seems to be fused to her hand.

After a while, she says, "OK. Let's go to the back." Then last-minute requests and questions come from every direction. They know that once Tornquist gets on the line, it will be hard to get her full attention for front-of-the house concerns. So a short walk to the kitchen takes 15 minutes.

We make our way to the kitchen and see sous chef Ryan McGuire carrying a clipboard with charts and lists.

Tornquist has a fierce loyalty to local food. She spends Saturday mornings crisscrossing farmers markets in Carrboro and Durham, chatting with farmers and producers, inspecting goods and hefting bag after bag of produce, while keeping a watchful eye on her daughters.

In the kitchen, she and McGuire get into a discussion about aquiculture, sustainability and market offerings. Soon, other cooks join in, and kitchen-speak abounds: short-order quips, briefings about the line and some good, old-fashioned cussing.

Yes, profanity happens in kitchens, and Tornquist is very much a proper Southern gal when we chat about it. When I ask her about it, she winces a little. A recent Oct. 7 article in the Independent quoting her cursing has made her a bit sensitive about hard language, but she doesn't mince words or hold back the occasional expletive.

Cooking in a restaurant kitchen is hot, intense work and sometimes stuff can go wrong in the middle of a busy Friday night. There are not many ways to blow off steam during such moments. While Tornquist is expediting orders, she hears a familiar (an unwelcome) sound that signals the freezer is going out. Bad news. A flurry of phone calls and text messages ensues to save a freezer full of ice cream and more.

Things crank into high gear with a flurry of orders, the arrival of the repairman and the training of a new pastry cook. Tornquist takes everything in stride, from guiding the new cook through cutting slices of pie, garnishing and returning the whipped cream to the cooler to calling out orders and keeping an eye over each plate that leaves the kitchen.

Tornquist and the fellas on the line can cook, but more important, they love to do it. That's what makes the food so special. Pair that with family recipes such as Cousin Carol's poundcake; terrines made by chef Glenn Lozuke, formerly of Magnolia Grill; and common sense about how to feed people and Watts Grocery is an experience that is not to be missed.

Start with the barbecued shrimp and you will be happy for the rest of the night.

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