Chef and Tell with Kyle Fitzgerald of the Old Blinking Light

Lori Midson

Kyle Fitzgerald, exec chef of Old Blinking Light

​"I haven't had lunch yet," sighs Kyle Fitzgerald, plopping himself down on a stool. Soon a vase of flat tubers fried in duck fat arrives at the bar with three dipping sauces. "The duck-fat fries have always been popular," he says, but "we're always trying to make them better." He picks up a fry and hands it over. "What do you think?" he asks, leaning forward. I stick the fry in my mouth and nod my head in approval, which seems to make Fitzgerald happy.

"I'm happier than I've been in months," admits the executive chef of the Old Blinking Light, the Highlands Ranch outpost of the Taos restaurant owned by Joseph Wrede, a Food & Wine magazine Best New Chef winner. He pauses and downs a few more fries before continuing. "There was a point, though, not too many months ago, when I thought we were going to close," confesses Fitzgerald, who credits his kitchen crew for fighting "to save all of our asses, to fight for our jobs and to prove how much they wanted this restaurant to succeed."

Fitzgerald, who's only been cooking at the Old Blinking Light for eight months, got the kitchen itch eight years ago, when he took a job as a banquet kitchen cook at the Adam's Mark (now the Sheraton Downtown Denver). From there, he did time in the galleys at Ted's Montana Grill, Tony's Market, Thëorie and the Golf Club at Ravenna before landing the top spot at the Old Blinking Light. "I came on as sous and was kind of handed the exec position after the former executive chef was escorted out," he recalls. "It used to be fusion-crazy food here, and the prices were being jacked up, so when I took over, we analyzed ourselves and really started to care about what our customers thought. Things are beautiful now. We cleared our path, improved our food and deleted a lot of the obstacles in our way to success."

Between bites of those fries crisped in duck fat, Fitzgerald talks about egos and duck confit hot dogs, Ultra-Tex 3 and 8 and molecular gastronomy, and what he might do to you if you throw a fist in his kitchen.

Six words to describe your food: Seasonal, seasoned, balanced, comforting, clean and approachable.

Ten words to describe you: Leader, explorer, stuntman, dad, patient, conqueror, artist, fighter, student and passionate.

Favorite ingredient: I'm always looking outside of my comfort zone to discover new ingredients or cooking chemicals to make something classic new and interesting. I've got at least two new spices or two new chemicals to play with every month. But if I had to choose one, it would most likely be Ultra-Tex 3 or 8, a modified starch derived from tapioca. I haven't used too much of either, but we've made some crazy dishes with both. On the more natural side, I'd have to say pork. You can cover so many of the common tastes with a whole pig -- everything from salty bacon to a maple-glazed pork loin.

Most overrated ingredient: Asparagus. It's never in season when you want to use it, yet some restaurants still insist on using it year-round. I don't really think that people use it for its flavor so much as for presentation and to make sure there's some green on the plate. Please find a new dead horse to kick.

Most undervalued ingredient: Love. I know that sounds kind of cheesy, but way too many plates go out in high-end places that look and taste like they've been created by robots. Great chefs make their food with love. I took ribs that used to take us, at the most, three hours to make and turned it into a twelve-hour process, and now people say they're the best ribs around. I know they'd take a medal in the South at a competition, but they have a six-hour smoking process and then another four-hour braising process, plus a night in the liquid to let them rest. Love is what makes the whole process worth it. If you don't want your food to show love, go ahead and press the number-three button on the microwave, unwrap the plastic tray and place it on a plate. If there's love in the food, it'll show in the flavors and technique.

Favorite local ingredient: Palisade peaches. I get the baseball- to softball-sized ones about a month before anyone else, and they only charge me for the gas. I'm not giving up my sources.

Rules of conduct in your kitchen: Leave the drama behind and just cook. Work clean and never think that someone else will get your stuff for you. Respect your ingredients, because farmers and ranchers all work for pennies, and when all is said and done, it's the least we can do in return. My restaurant is a sanctuary -- sometimes people save up all year for the meal they get at my restaurant -- and we should never let customers leave angry or disappointed. I never allow cell phones, either.