Keith Famie is really putting this 84-year-old man through his paces. It鈥檚 like an acuity test for seniors.
When the gentleman begins to answer one of his questions, Famie stops him. 鈥淚鈥檓 going to ask you that question again, and mention how you got to Detroit, and why Detroit,鈥 he instructs.
Moments later, Famie breaks in again. 鈥淛ust because I have a short window of time with you today, what was your first impression of Detroit?鈥
鈥淥h. I鈥檓 sorry,鈥 the gentleman replies.
鈥淣o, you鈥檙e OK,鈥 Famie says, 鈥渁s long as you don鈥檛 mind if I stop you once in a while.鈥
The gentleman is Sameer Eid, founder and owner since 1971 of Birmingham鈥檚 restaurant, one of the longest-running and most famous Lebanese-American restaurants in metro Detroit. While Eid鈥檚 son, Samy, handles most of the business affairs now, Sameer still comes in regularly to chat with diners who have been his customers for decades. And when Famie learns Sameer arrived at the restaurant that day in his vintage white 鈥60s Corvette convertible, he can hardly contain himself.
听
鈥淪ameer, can we get you to go back out to your car, pull out of the driveway, then drive back in and park so we can see you arriving?鈥
Bizarre request, but Sameer graciously complies. That鈥檚 because he knows Famie, the award-winning Detroit celebrity chef turned multi-Michigan Emmy Award-winning producer-director, is filming him for his upcoming series . The docuseries (originally intended to be a documentary film) is set to premiere Dec. 9 at the before airing the following night on .
鈥淵ou see stories like his and it gives me hope,鈥 Famie says while savoring the sumptuous lunch Phoenicia prepared for him and his crew.
鈥淚鈥檓 64 now and still driving this train, but he鈥檚 still relevant. And for me to be able to shine a light on individuals like Sameer, to remind future generations or even current generations of their contributions, I鈥檓 excited. He deserves this time in his life. The film focuses on young people, too, but I feel like an ambassador.鈥
Sameer is one of at least 60 interviewees Famie will film for his latest production, which traces and celebrates the rich history of Detroit鈥檚 culinary industry 鈥 with every ethnic group from the Italians and Polish to the Greeks and Arab Americans contributing to the city鈥檚 entr茅e excellence 鈥 and highlights the new generation of chefs striving to carry on our kitchen tradition.
And it鈥檚 guaranteed that every interview will be as meticulous, impassioned, and flexible as this morning鈥檚 with Sameer. That鈥檚 just who Keith Famie is.
鈥淗e鈥檚 relentless,鈥 marvels Fred Nahhat, senior vice president for production at Detroit PBS and Famie鈥檚 broadcast partner through nearly 18 years and more than 20 televised films hailing Detroit as the home of churches, hot rods, and many things in between. 鈥淚t might come from that ethos as a chef. When you think of him back in the day at Chez Raphael, Les Auteurs, and other places I wasn鈥檛 making the money to afford, that鈥檚 what he was like then.
鈥淏ut I wouldn鈥檛 paint him as esoteric,鈥 Nahhat explains. 鈥淗e鈥檚 very accessible. He鈥檚 a Detroit storyteller. He鈥檚 a hard worker, innovative, and he never stops. He鈥檚 a blue-collar filmmaker, and I mean that in the best way possible. There鈥檚 nothing but honesty coming out of his projects, and that鈥檚 pretty unique. At least once a week, I tell a filmmaker who wants to get on the air here, 鈥楪o talk to Keith. Get some advice from him.鈥欌
That advice might include taking an honest look at the production being developed. 鈥淚 look at four things when I step into any project, and all four have to work in sync or these things collapse,鈥 Famie explains. 鈥淲ho鈥檚 going to care about it? How is it going to help somebody in some way? Where is it going to be shown, and who鈥檚 going to pay for it? If you say, 鈥業鈥檓 making a film, but I鈥檓 not sure what it鈥檚 going to be,鈥 or you don鈥檛 have a place to air it, nobody鈥檚 going to fund it. And these things are really expensive to make.鈥
His long partnership with Detroit PBS helps assure potential funders that his films will be seen. But is Detroit really the city of chefs? Obviously, Famie thinks so: He notes that there were once more certified master chefs in Michigan, 11, than anywhere else in the nation, most of them in metro Detroit. One of them, master chef Ed Janos of and Money Tree legend, thinks it goes deeper than that.
鈥淚 didn鈥檛 realize it until I moved away,鈥 says Janos, a Detroit native now based in Denver who stood up with Famie at his wedding. 鈥淚t was just such a tight, tight culture. We weren鈥檛 afraid to share secrets and recipes and ideas with one another. It was just such a camaraderie, and I developed great friendships with fellow chefs. I鈥檝e been fortunate to cook in many places in the U.S., and there鈥檚 not the camaraderie I experienced in Detroit.鈥
Famie believes there鈥檚 a direct correlation between the automotive industry and the rise of superior chefs here. 鈥淒etroit was always considered kind of a 鈥榝lyover city,鈥 but auto execs were traveling all over the world,鈥 he says. 鈥淭hey may dine in downtown Chicago or New York, and their expectation level is only as high as it is for that moment. But the restaurants here deal with the same customers over and over, so the quality and consistency has to be at a very high level. I don鈥檛 want to say Detroit鈥檚 culinary community works harder than anyone else in the country, but they work damn hard.鈥
Between his culinary celebrity and second career in filmmaking, Famie achieved a measure of national notoriety appearing as a contestant on CBS鈥檚 Survivor: The Australian Outback in 2001, eventually finishing third overall. The reality series not only beat out Friends in its time slot but also was the highest-rated show on TV that season.
The series did elevate his national profile enough to land him a series on Food Network, , and shows and appearances on Detroit TV as well. But ultimately, 鈥渢he Survivor thing put such a magnifying glass on your life and everything, I was totally fine with, 鈥楲et鈥檚 step behind the camera,鈥欌 Famie recalls. 鈥淚 mean, when you鈥檙e on a reality show, you have to grow a very thick skin. I enjoyed being invisible, and telling other people鈥檚 stories allowed me to do that.鈥
In 1998, he launched Visionalist Entertainment Productions. What鈥檚 鈥淰isionalist鈥 鈥 a word he coined himself 鈥 supposed to mean? 鈥淣obody asks me that anymore,鈥 Famie says with a smile. 鈥淏ut there鈥檚 a story behind it. Years ago, I read a saying: 鈥楾o dream is to fantasize; to visualize is to expect.鈥 The point is, you cannot do anything without visualization.
鈥淎s a chef, you walk through a market, see a cut of meat, and say, 鈥業鈥檓 going to make that tonight.鈥 You鈥檙e already visualizing the outcome. When I created the name, people said, 鈥楾hat means nothing.鈥 I said, 鈥業t means everything.鈥 Sometimes with films I have to wait a long time to get just the right clip. I already know where it鈥檚 going in the film. So much of what we do in the field is about that visualization, seeing where we want to go with our project. We鈥檙e visionalists.鈥
And with that vision come certain guiding principles when Famie is on location. 鈥淚 have a very strict narrative to my filmmaking: See it, say it; say it, see it,鈥 he says. 鈥淚f I don鈥檛 have the visuals to tell the story, then we have to let it go. Another point I stress with my crew is, the story we鈥檙e going to tell is not always the story we鈥檙e going to tell. The film we aired last year, , ended up with a story about Parkinson鈥檚 disease because we found a woman who continued to cruise despite being in stage 4. You never know how these things will work out, so you have to be flexible.鈥
Famie didn鈥檛 visualize how difficult the transition from chef to cinema would be. 鈥淚t was economic suicide, for sure,鈥 he says, laughing now. 鈥淓veryone in my family thought I had lost my mind. Every time I would walk into an interview, someone would say, 鈥榃here are you cooking now? Where is your restaurant?鈥 I鈥檇 respond, 鈥極h, I鈥檓 producing now.鈥
鈥溾楬ow do you know how to do that?鈥 they would ask. I鈥檇 tell them, 鈥業 already knew how from my food things.鈥 It wasn鈥檛 a stretch; it was just a pivot.鈥
Famie pivots a lot. He鈥檚 a producer and a fundraiser, and while his director of photography, Brendan Martin, has done the majority of editing on his recent films, Famie is part of the process. City of Chefs will include stop-motion animation sequences, which he commissioned, produced by students at the College for Creative Studies and scenes from the one-time Legends of the Stove charity event, which he organized, at the Detroit Athletic Club. And practically every film Famie produces is accompanied by a companion book 鈥 which he writes. He鈥檚 a man in constant motion, which comes as no surprise to chef Brian Polcyn, Famie鈥檚 friend since high school.
鈥淗e鈥檚 always been like that ever since I can remember,鈥 says Polcyn, a nationally known charcuterie expert whose new cookbook Meat Pies comes out this fall. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 just his personality. Even when he was a chef, he always had something else going on. I equate it to fishing on a pier: I鈥檇 have one line in the water, and he would have nine. But he seems to have found his niche, which is good.鈥
But why a series about chefs now, after almost 20 years of focusing on so many other subjects? 鈥淚 don鈥檛 really have a good answer for that, other than I鈥檝e always wanted to tell this story,鈥 Famie muses. 鈥淚鈥檝e always understood the importance of our culinary heritage, and I had a conversation with Brian Polcyn that made me say, 鈥業 think it鈥檚 time to dive into this.鈥 I guess maybe in a subconscious way I was reflecting upon where I came from personally. I started seeing other chefs getting older, falling off the radar screen, and thought it was time.鈥
He had other stories to tell first. 鈥淚鈥檓 always looking for, 鈥楬ow is this story going to affect someone? How is it going to make people think about their own lives, or gain a perspective? Change a paradigm of thinking about other people, or humanity itself?鈥 That鈥檚 the jazz for me.鈥
This story originally appeared in the August 2024 issue of 糖心vlog安卓版. To read more, pick up a copy of 糖心vlog安卓版 Detroit at a local retail outlet. Our will be available on Aug. 6.
| 听 |
|