Worthy feasting at the Liberty Medal gala

Just as the Constitution represents the work of many creators under James Madison, so too did last Thursday's Liberty Medal gala at the National Constitution Center.

To feed honoree Steven Spielberg, presenter President Bill Clinton, and nearly 500 guests (Gov. Rendell, Mayor Nutter, and Sister Mary Scullion), a team of VIP chefs was assembled, including Jean-Marie Lacroix, Guillermo Pernot, and several of his colleagues from Cuba Libre.

"We're cooking for stars and these are the stars that I can bring to the table," said John D'Amelio of Max & Me Catering, owned by Libre Management, which handled the banquet. He coordinated the courses and the timing with all the chefs in the kitchens and prep areas around the building via two-way radios.

Last Thursday's workday started before 9 a.m. in the main kitchen, two floors below the street. Planning had begun six weeks earlier, with a tasting session that yielded the ambitious selection of hors d'oeuvres including lobster and corn hush puppies with smoked paprika aioli; chicken breast batons coated in tarragon; and figs marinated in marsala with truffled goat cheese and crisp sage, all conceived by Luke Palladino of Libre.

The gala is a pet project for Max & Me, the center's in-house caterer. "We try to go one better than the year before," said co-owner Barry Gutin.

The evening went like clockwork. Chefs and cooks followed their assignments. The only steam being let off came from the stoves.

Shortly before cocktail hour, Palladino and managers prepped waiters, explaining some of the chef's creations, including chestnut necci (crepes) with Calabro ricotta and chestnut honey.

As the ceremony proceeded outside, waiters practiced in the dining room. The goal: Serve 500 dinners in 14 minutes.

Many salads (heirloom greens with candied orange goat-cheese nougat and fig compote topped with sourdough toast from Pernot) could not be served before the end of the ceremony, lest the audience assembled on the lawn spy the silhouettes of servers on the windows.

The choreography evoked the precision of ballet: "As soon as Richie Havens plays his first note [to end the ceremony], we move," D'Amelio said.

One waiter, Christian Boris, felt his phone buzz in his pocket with a message. It was his agent. A meteorologist, Boris had landed a job with a TV station in Las Vegas. He found his father, Bob Gallo, the catering company's director of operations, and playfully quit on the spot. Not really - he finished out the night like a true pro.

Downstairs in the main kitchen, sous chef Phil Gleichman was the "fire guy," pulling pans of carrots and turnips from 230-degree steam ovens. To his right, Lacroix - one of Philadelphia's most decorated chefs, who spent more than 25 years at the Four Seasons and Rittenhouse Hotels - seasoned a vat of the vegetables.

Handling the entree (short ribs) were Louis Chabot, Max & Me's executive chef, and Lacroix, who said he came for the chance to work alongside Chabot, his old buddy.

(And even though they were in the midst of an important banquet, the next dinner could not be ignored. In front of Lacroix, asparagus was being cut for the next evening's event, a sit-down meal for 550 people.)

Meanwhile, the radio crackled with a request for 10 vegan meals. "Not vegetarian," the voice urged. "Vegan." Chef Derek Steel grabbed quinoa and corn and went to work.

The hot food was slid into 5-foot-tall insulated carts and rolled into elevators for the trip upstairs to one of two staging areas, where five assembly lines awaited.

Just off the dining room in one staging area, chefs calmly plated short ribs, added sides of spoon bread and garnishes of carrot and turnip, and ladled on sauce. Waiters marched from the kitchen with two plates at a time, and D'Amelio's 14-minute goal seemed to be a cinch.

"There's a constant ebb and flow between the front of the house and back of the house," said Gallo.

Then came an ebb. Two security guys stepped into the doorway, followed by a slight, gray-haired man wearing a Liberty Medal, accompanied by a well-dressed woman. Spielberg and his wife, Kate Capshaw, waved and stepped into the elevator. Moments later came more security, followed by a puff of white hair. Clinton stopped to pose for photos.

As quickly as the plating stopped, it restarted. And when the last entree went out the door - hot and on time - waiters served dessert (cookies and small pastries prepared by chef Karen Dalbora) and coffee.

Finally, for kitchen staff, dinner was over. D'Amelio, Boris, Gallo, and the chefs dug into the leftovers and talked of grabbing drinks.

It wouldn't be a late night for D'Amelio. Tomorrow morning, he had to oversee that dinner for 550, and three weddings the next day.

Watch the chefs as they prepare the dinner: www.philly.com. EndText