Catering to the Masses

By: Chuck SalterWed Dec 19, 2007 at 8:09 AM

Levy Restaurants knows how to feed a crowd--with discipline, a helping of creativity, and, as needed, a dash of resilience. Plus the occasional lasagna.

For the Super Bowl, Levy flew in more than two dozen chefs from venues such as Wrigley and Lambeau Fields. Its strategy: Divide a large event into more manageable ones. Michael Arcomone, executive chef at Arlington International Racecourse outside Chicago, fired 2,000 pans--hardly glamorous work, but well worth it for the chance to be at the Super Bowl. This is one of the job's perks, and the chefs list off their marquee events like athletes reciting their stats.

In Miami, Nicely and his team have to solve their own share of surprises, including a shortage of cashiers, a cash-register glitch, and, for some reason, a run on roasted potatoes. After only 20 minutes, Doyle's staff radios the kitchen for more--and Nicely is ready. No, he didn't have a potato premonition. He always suspects there will be a run on something during the pregame or halftime rush. So he orders 5% more than he thinks he'll need and assigns a couple of chefs to stay in the kitchen. The backup potatoes arrive before customers even notice.

8:30 p.m. At halftime, Nicely grabs a seat in Flagship North Lounge, which is as colorful and crowded as any South Beach bar. A rapper and his entourage occupy a far table, and Jimmy Buffett commands a corner booth. A group of overcoiffed guys persuade the chef to pose with them--yes, he's become another Miami celebrity.

This isn't the path Nicely imagined when he graduated from culinary school, but it's more fun. He's running a kitchen that cooks hundreds of thousands of meals and generates $14 million in revenue a year, far more than he'd do at a restaurant. He has worked at the Masters, the Kentucky Derby, the MTV Video Music Awards. "This is probably the last company I'll work for," he says.

And then, he's slipping through the crowd, his tall, white hat bouncing toward the kitchen, so he can wrap up and beat the traffic home. On his way out, he notices things that could have been better and adds them to the pocket notebook he carries throughout the night. A towel on the kitchen floor. A culinary student without his uniform hat. The long line for sushi.

A thousand details? Please. Chef's just getting started.

Chuck Salter (csalter@fastcompany.com) is a Fast Company senior writer in Chicago. He likes his hot dogs Chicago-style.