•

san says. "Or chicken or fish; Art makes "triple-chocolate cake."
Zeman's seven-layer cake gets Art's
marvelous fish. And there's always dessert."
Art begins cooking after he gets home thumbs-up, but don't offer to take him to a
fast-food or convenience shopping place.
;--) from work.
"I like fish and chicken, Chinese food, veg-
At first, the family kitchen was small.
Then the Dubins added a breakfast room, etables and bread — almost any bread. I
and finally redid the entire area with new don't really eat junk food — unless it's salt-
tiling and cabinets. Despite the myriad of free."
No indulgences? Art has no indulgences?
foods on the stove and on the burners, it
"Well, animal crackers."
seems always to be pristine; there are no
deep-red splatters on the walls that would
ike all master chefs, Art has had
reveal spaghetti sauce gone mad, no streaks
his bad days. His son's delicacies
of spilled crepes or creams.
fail "maybe 1/2 of 1 percent of the
Art is wearing an apron — this one has
time," Howard says. The beer bread
his initials — and he's watching the chick-
en breasts, already coated with egg substi- incident still remains fresh in their minds.
Art had been watching a cooking show
tute and breaded and simmering in one pan.
Earlier, he pounded them down to the per- with guest-host actress JoAnne Worley, of
fect thinness. He prefers working on a wood- "Laugh-In" fame. She made a beer bread
which Art promptly tried in his own home.
en board.
In a pot on the stove, Art tosses pasta and He doesn't like to linger on the experience.
•
"It worked fine for JoAnne Worley, but
margarine and fresh herbs. He concentrates
intently, never precisely measuring but al- not for me," is about all he will say.
One perennial, no-fail favorite is Art's fa-
ways getting it just right.
"It needs a few more minutes," he says a mous "sticky chicken," which he prepares
moment later, lightly pressing the top of his by first removing the skin, then dotting the
meat with pepper and browning it, then re-
peach pie.
The cooking part came easy to Art, and moving the fat and coating the chicken with
over the years he has come to perfect the duck sauce. The piece de resistance, though,
' presentation, his mother says. These days, is the apricots. Art decided the flavor of the
his completed meals (like asparagus stuffed fruit nicely echoed the sweet, tangy duck
into zucchini slices) resemble something out sauce topping.
Invite Art over and he's likely to bring
of a gourmet magazine.
Art is particular about what he puts in that chicken, or something else equally tan-
his food, preferring the freshest possible pro- talizing.
"Art is the ultimate host," Susan says. "If
duce and herbs. He likes Mother's margarine
and does just about everything from scratch, you're a workman in this house, you don't
>m "though even when I make some-
tv-or .
thing from scratch I'll use the
prepared stuff in a pinch, like any
:14- 111:111111h-
great chef," he says, non-
chalantly.
For himself, Art avoids red
meat altogether — "too much fat"
— and he won't use whole eggs.
Usually he uses an egg substi-
/— tute, or else he will carefully sep-
arate the egg whites from the
yolks. The yolks are passed off to
the less cholesterol conscious, the
family's pet dogs Sidney and
Baasi.
Baasi?
Baasi was named for a now-
• deceased French poodle that be-
/ - longed to the family, "as a way to
keep his memory alive," Susan
says. But it's clear she doesn't
take it too seriously.
Baasi and Sidney, meanwhile,
have lapped up the yolks and
wait for seconds. They're not com-
ing. Technically, the dogs are
;-=.-) supposed to contain their fine
dining to the dry stuff "They're
on diets," Art explains.
His guests relish Art's
desserts, but they're not his fa-
vorite part of the meal — not the
preparation, not the devouring.
"If I'm going to eat dessert, it
has to be something worth-
, while," he says matter-of-factly.
An acceptable selection would
be something along the lines of

h

leave without being fed. And he never goes
anywhere without bringing food."
"I get a lot of people who say they want to
take me home," Art adds. "I tell them,
There's just so much of me to go around."
On Rosh Hashanah, the Dubins usually
invite about 45 family and friends and some-
body in town who has nowhere to go. Art
and his mother do all the cooking.
Super Bowl is a big eating day at the Du-
bin home as well. Guests come over to watch
the game and especially to eat. "We serve
15 to 20 appetizers — maybe lemon-pepper
chicken wings and baked salami, or even
salmon (Art makes a phenomenal cold
poached salmon) — and desserts."
Those interested in dining on a gourmet
meal prepared by Art — which means es-
sentially everyone — should not, however,
ask for a Saturday afternoon invitation. Art
spends every Shabbat morning at Temple
Israel.
Art was 14 when a cousin suggested he
attend an Orthodox summer camp in the
Catskills. 'We sent him kicking and scream-
ing," Susan says.
But he had a good time. So he went back
the next year, and the next. First he was a
camper, then he delivered the mail, and fi-
nally the staff learned of his cooking skills.
Guess who became the new hire in the
kitchen?
Today, Art wears a kippah and keeps
kosher and often discusses religious issues
with his parents. "I think he would prefer it

MASTER CHEF page 58

in

*xmh,:laiM

Below: In the Dubin

house, everyone helps

set the table and clear

up afterward, too.