Icy art
But a large block of ice might find a welcome friend in me, so long as it doesn’t mind a little pruning — with a chainsaw.
I wouldn’t haphazardly butcher a block of ice on my own (no ice deserves that, no matter how poorly behaved). Instead, my first hands-on introduction transpired under the competent tutelage of Chef Earl Morse.
The new executive chef at Eve’s at the Garden, Chef Morse is stirring things up at the restaurant in the Portland Harbor Hotel.
During an informal reception for the chef several weeks ago, the room was a-chatter with food talk. People asked about his background, including his most-recent stretch as chef de cuisine at Kennebunkport’s White Barn Inn, and his plans to revamp the Eve’s at the Garden menu.
But I had spotted Chef Morse carving ice out on the patio when we arrived, so that’s where my questioning steered. Turns out he’s not simply a chef with some power tools; Chef Morse is a certified professional ice carver and close to reaching master ice carver status. That ranking is held by only a handful of carvers in the country.
He’s carved ice in Japan, Belgium, France, the Netherlands, Germany, Ireland, Switzerland and the U.S, racking up ice carving accolades alongside his culinary education.
I oh-so-slyly remarked that one might find “ice sculpting” a beneficial addition to a resume in, say, a tentative economic climate. To my delight, Chef Morse agreed to give a lesson.
Ice carving day arrived along with 85-degree temperatures. The sun, it seemed, didn’t care for my plans.
There on the Eve’s at the Garden patio, the ice block stood under some tall foliage and next to a gurgling fountain. It was perspiring at good speed. Chef Morse had draped a cold cloth on its top to help slow the heat’s destructive impact.
On a nearby ledge rested an arsenal of ice chipping, carving and cutting tools. All of them had been at least partially fabricated (meaning, you won’t find these apparatuses at the local Home Depot). All of them looked dangerous. A few looked like they might spend weekends earning additional pocket money as extras in Hollywood horror flicks.
There lay a nail board, a chainsaw, a flat chisel and a couple of die grinders with differently shaped tips. And while I wouldn’t pick a fight with any of them, the most threatening of all the tools was the angle grinder. Its modifications included an array of screws protruding from the face — and I imagine it can easily wipe the smirk off of anyone who mishandles it.
All told, we were working with more than $4,000 worth of equipment. I willed myself not to break any of it.
After an introduction to the tools, Chef Morse brought out his book of stencils. There were pages of options, drawn out on transparency, all of which Chef Morse has carved numerous times.
This being my introduction to the ice carving business, I thought it might behoove me to carve something round, lumpy and undetailed: perhaps a storm cloud or dumpling.
We opted instead to go with a delicately finned fish, swimming alongside a shoot of seaweed. Chef Morse, you see, is of the optimistic variety.
The transparency is used as a guide to first “sketch” the design onto the ice by carving the lines into the face of the block. When in competition, the transparency can be displayed onto the block, ensuring accuracy. In this case, eyeballing it worked.
With the outline scratched into the block (and already beginning to melt into oblivion) we were ready for some tooling.
First up: the chainsaw. While this chainsaw was toothless, it’s still not a toy for children. It retains plenty of cutting ability and can stab into a block of ice with the same ease that a regular chainsaw has cutting into just about anything.
Chef Morse took the lead, pressing the blade down into the top of the block, guiding it south along the pre-sketched lines. The chainsaw is able to cut using the bottom, nose and top of the blade, so it can be pulled out from the block and plunged back in, nose first.
A few portions of ice fell away on one side and Chef Morse turned off the chainsaw. “Would you like to try?”
Would I? Absolutely.
After some reminders about safety, he handed over the chainsaw. My nerves perked up. My anticipation peaked. And all my excitement apparently frightened the dickens out of the chainsaw.
It refused to start. I tried again. Nothing. It understandably didn’t trust me.
With some coaxing and kind words, it eventually started up. And there I was, setting a chainsaw into a giant brick of ice on a sun-baked patio. The saw sank into the ice with minimal pressure and I attempted to guide the blade along the sketched lines. I was sloppy, but definitely carving.
With a long cut made down the side, and the blade still thrust into the block, Chef Morse instructed: “Now just flick your wrist.”
I did, and a hunk of ice fell away, shattering. One cut and I’m already flicking like a professional.
I made a few more cuts, feeling a bit more confident. Still, I found that the chainsaw seemed to have its own plan, not willing to move in the exact direction my mind willed it. That, I’m sure, comes with practice.
With the large portions of ice removed, Chef Morse rounded out some curves and gave some dimension to the block with the angle grinder. This tool, he told me, is ideal for removing larger pieces of ice quickly, to get the sculpture to start taking shape in a pinch. And we were in a pinch, what with all the melting.
The three-dimensional shape of our cold fish could now be distinguished.
To begin finely shaping the piece, Chef Morse reached for the die grinders. The one with the fluted tip can be used much like a paintbrush, although it’s held more like a sword. The rough cone-shaped tip spins rapidly and files away the ice much like a sander treats wood.
It also enabled improved control for adding stripes on the fins and smoothing the curves of the fish body. The pointed tip can be plunged into the ice as well, affording some texture — scale-like texture in this case.
I took hold of a die grinder with a cylindrical tip and worked to round-out a seashell near the sculpture’s base. The advantage to such a tool: It removes layers of ice with ease. The downside: It removes layers of ice with ease.
Some serious over-shaving went on, with the seashell getting distinctly smaller as I worked. And while Chef Morse made the smoothing look easy, I worked like a shaky barber, taking too much in one spot and then taking too much in another in my attempt to fix it.
Even still, the sculpture came to proud completion.
It shined on the Eve’s patio like a rejuvenating beacon of cool under the sun’s heated gaze.
And then it promptly began to melt.
Perhaps it won’t be remembered as the finest example of Chef Morse’s work, but it’s the best ice sculpture I’ve ever laid a die grinder to.
