A Legend, A Letter, and a Life Changed — Honoring Chef André Soltner

Last week, I attended the Celebration of Life for the legendary Chef André Soltner, where I joined more than 300 chefs, friends, and family. For those who may not know of Chef Soltner, he was far more than just a chef—he was an icon in the culinary world.

Together with his wife Simone, Chef Soltner owned and ran the legendary Lutèce restaurant in New York City from 1961 to 1994. For over three decades, critics and diners alike considered it the finest French restaurant in America. And for countless chefs—myself included—it was a dream to work under his guidance.

His dedication was the stuff of legend. In the 33 years he helmed Lutèce, he missed only four days of service—to attend his father's and brother's funerals. He lived above the restaurant, completely devoted to his craft, his team, and his guests.

Chef Soltner was relentless in his pursuit of perfection. His technical mastery was unmatched, he was also ahead of his time in demanding top-quality ingredients when they were hard to find in America. Lutèce wasn’t just a restaurant; it was the gold standard for French cuisine in this country.

The Letter That Changed My Life

Flashback to 1981: I was a 21-year-old sous chef working in a large hotel in Washington, D.C. Our team oversaw eight restaurants and a banquet department capable of serving up to 5,000 guests in a single event. On paper, it was impressive—but something was missing.

I had known from a young age that I wanted to be a chef, and I had risen quickly through the kitchen ranks—maybe too quickly. Deep down, I felt I didn’t have the classical French training I needed to become truly great.

So, I made a decision. I had to get to New York and work at the best French restaurants in the country. But this was pre-internet (imagine that!), so the only way to research was by flipping through issues of Gourmet and Food & Wine magazines and looking at the restaurant ads. I identified 12 places—names like La Côte Basque, Le Cygne, La Caravelle, and Lutèce, restaurants I’d never heard of, but that sounded like the real deal. I wrote to all of them, asking for a job.

And then, something remarkable happened.

"I received a letter from Lutèce—the only response I got. Well, more of a note, really—just one sentence. But that single line changed the trajectory of my career and, in turn, my life. It read:

“Monsieur Brennan, at this time I do not have an opening in my brigade, but if you happen to come to New York, please stop by and see me.”

—Chef André Soltne

I didn’t even know what “brigade” meant—I had to look it up. But I knew what I had to do.

A few days later, on my day off, I grabbed that letter and hopped a train to New York. I arrived at Lutèce around 3 p.m., in between lunch and dinner service. Simone, Chef Soltner’s wife, greeted me warmly, offered me a glass of water, and sat me in a little vestibule at the front of the restaurant. A few minutes later, Chef Soltner came out to meet me.

Even though he still didn’t have an opening, he sat with me for about a half hour. He looked over my resume—it wasn’t stacked with big-name restaurants—but he must’ve seen something in me. He picked up the phone and called two great French restaurants on my behalf: La Réserve and Le Cirque. Neither had been on my radar, and I hadn’t even written to them.

That same day, I went to both and interviewed with their chefs.

Six weeks later, I was getting my ass kicked on the line at Le Cirque.

Plenty more stories from that kitchen—but I’ll save those for another post.

Chef Soltner’s Legacy

While speaking with my colleagues, Chef Thomas Keller and Chef Riad Nasr, at the Celebration of Life, they shared stories that echoed my own. As young cooks, they, too, knocked on Chef Soltner’s door. Though there were no positions available, he still took the time to speak with them. They, like me, remembered his kindness and generosity.

Over the years, I’d run into Chef André at events, or he’d visit one of the restaurants where I was the chef. Each time, I’d remind him of the story—the letter, the visit, the phone calls. And every time, in classic André fashion, he’d flash that warm, infectious smile and shrug modestly, never quite grasping the profound impact he had on my career—and my life

.

I am forever grateful, Chef. Your influence and legacy will live on in the kitchens, the hearts, and the hands of every chef you touched.

Rest in peace Chef

—Terrance