Tom Colicchio serves me a sandwich. It’s a basic bacon, egg, and cheese, and he awakened at 4:50 this morning to organize it. The bread is scrumptious, some kind of sliced sourdough, and the bacon is the good things—thick-cut, with that fatty chewiness that solely comes from undercooking it barely. He gathered the eggs himself from the chickens he raises within the yard of his Lengthy Island house.
“We’ve got 4 birds,” he tells me. “We used to have extra, however a hawk received them this spring.”
Whereas the components are excellent, the presentation—not less than for Mr. High Chef himself, who earned his status in white-tablecloth institutions like New York Metropolis’s Gramercy Tavern—would possibly finest be described as, nicely, missing. Colicchio flopped the sandwich down on the seat between us, crammed right into a ziplock bag stuffed with them. Then once more, his timing couldn’t be higher. It’s midmorning, the 5 a.m. espresso kick is sporting skinny, and the fish we’re chasing off the Rhode Island coast are nowhere to be discovered. Even an obsessive angler would inform you: It’s time for breakfast.
“That is when the fish will present up,” he says, extra out of behavior than perception. “It’s at all times while you’re not paying consideration.”
Prior to now month, 56-year-old Colicchio, the James Beard award–profitable chef and founding father of the restaurant group Crafted Hospitality, which operates a half-dozen eating places across the nation, has averaged three days per week on his 26-foot Regulator boat, with twin Yamaha 250 outboards. Early in the summertime, he was chasing largely after resident stripers within the waters across the jap finish of Lengthy Island, the place he’s lived for the previous 16 years. Later, he began pursuing bluefin tuna once they confirmed up 80 miles offshore within the Gulf Stream. There was even hope of hooking right into a white marlin when the chunk turned on. However now, in late August, with waves projected at 4 to 6 ft, the simple motion is again inshore, operating up and down the Rhode Island shoreline, searching for striped bass or bonito, a torpedo-shaped cousin of the tuna, on a fly rod.