Thomas Keller is the most decorated American chef in history. He also is a golf junkie who has stayed and played at Augusta National on more than one occasion. Among the many features he loves about the club: He doesn’t have to worry about how they’ll treat his toast.
Keller is particular about many dishes, toast included. He likes his well-done — browned, just shy of burnt. Many restaurants disappoint him on that front.
“You ask for your toast well-done,” Keller says. “What they bring out is basically warm bread.”
As a precaution against that tepid practice, Keller has taken a page from the playbook of Jim Nantz, whose preference in toast is similar to Keller’s. A few years back, the famed CBS broadcaster told the famed chef that he carries a photo of well-browned toast on his phone, which he shows to waiters wherever he goes so that they can convey his wishes to the kitchen. A clever tip from one golfer to another. Keller started to do the same.
Whipping out a cellphone at Augusta National is a no-go, of course. But Keller knows that there’s no need for that.
“When you ask for your toast well-done at Augusta,” he says. “That’s exactly how they prepare it.”
Same goes for any order. If you think the club’s course maintenance is meticulous, try sitting down for a meal.
“It’s an extraordinary experience,” Keller says. “Everything is done exactly right.”
Not that all meals at Augusta are the same.
Toast is a breakfast item. And at breakfast, unlike at lunch and dinner, there is no printed menu. Come up with a request, and they’ll oblige.
“It’s almost like they’re playing a game with you and challenging themselves,” a GOLF Magazine course rater says. “It’s, like, see if you can stump us.”
Eggs Benedict? Chicken and waffles? Asparagus frittata? Done, done and done. When the waffles (or pancakes, or French toast) arrive, a keen eye will notice that they’ve been branded subtly with the club’s iconic logo. The same is true of every piece of silverware.
At breakfast, most diners wear their golf clothes, as they’re en route to the course. Ditto at lunch in the grill. Dinner, though, is served in the main dining room, and it has a different dress code. A jacket and tie are required.
Not a green jacket, unless you’re a member.
“If you look across the room,” another GOLF Magazine course rater says, “it’s three blue blazers and one green jacket at every table.”
Most tables are four tops, spaced out evenly with ample room among them, covered with white tablecloths and ringed by wooden chairs with upholstered seats. The decor is understated. Two portraits hang on opposite walls — of club founders Bobby Jones and Clifford Roberts — aligned so that they’re looking directly at each other.
Service is spot-on but straightforward. The dinner menu matches that aesthetic. Nothing flashy.
“It’s classic American cuisine,” Keller says. “Perfectly executed.”
Steaks. Chops. Wedge salads. Soups. The fried chicken recipe dates back generations; its keeper is a longtime kitchen staffer who has been around nearly as long as the recipe itself. The kitchen is equipped in the manner of the world’s finest restaurants, Keller says. Many of the staff have trained in such places and are endlessly adaptable.
A vegetarian menu is in the offing. On a visit last year, one GOLF Magazine course rater enjoyed cauliflower as a vegan steak. Off-menu orders are allowed as well. There’s not much you can think of that they can’t prepare.
Ask for lobster Thermidor, and they may — or may not — have it.
But if they don’t, Keller says, “it will be something close, and it will be delicious.”
There’s no set time for dinner. But evenings tend to unfold in a familiar rhythm, starting with cocktails, often in the cabin where you’re staying with your host. There, the wine list is delivered, so the member can review it before the meal.
While golf is governed by written regulations, dining abides largely by unwritten rules of etiquette. Understandably, first-timers at Augusta have been known to worry about stepping out of line.
“I was petrified that I might pick up the wrong fork,” another GOLF Magazine course rater says.
Truth is, though, you can get away with that without getting thrown out. You just can’t linger in the dining room when you’re member isn’t there.
After dinner, a tour of the wine cellar is in order. An elevator will take you underground. Your host will be with you, along with a club employee as your guide. The collection you’ll browse ranks among the most extensive on the planet. Burgundy. Bordeaux. Napa. Tuscany. La Rioja. No prized region goes unrepresented. Many years ago, the cellar had the trappings of a fancy home collection. It since has been renovated. Gleaming and glassed-in, it could now pass, one GOLF course rater says, for “something you might see in a five-star hotel.”
And then the tour is over, and with it, the evening, an experience unlike any other, to be followed the next morning by a round that you will never forget. It’s a lot to digest, and some details might escape you later.
Not to worry.
“You just have to appreciate it,” Keller says. “Simply embrace it as an extraordinary moment in your life.”
