Caribbean cowboy
By Catherine McGarry Miller + photos by Kevin C. Groen
At 19, Montana native Michael Morton was a mosh pit punk who also briefly studied art in Missoula.
“I’d be hard-pressed to tell you what I was trying to say,” he admits of his found-object constructions. “I was young and trying to make statements, but was probably naïve, misinformed and shallow.”
Growing up in Montana, Morton experienced home on the range and its wide open spaces. He spent much of his youth exploring the woods near his Helena home, rooting around deserted mines and abandoned shacks.
An avid fan of grunge and industrial music, Morton in 1993 joined the “Montana Mafia,” slang for the mass migration of young Montanans to Seattle for the music scene and city life. Having worked in delis as a teenager, he cooked to finance his clubbing. “I learned to work fast – whatever you do, do it fast. I had a string of deli jobs and never diversified my portfolio.”
His first job in Seattle at a high volume kosher deli taught the unruly youngster a lot about interacting with the public and conforming to strict kosher dietary laws. Later Chef Walter Pisano of Tulio Ristorante took a very green Morton, with an admittedly bad attitude, and mentored him into a reluctant professional. “This was the real deal,” Morton smiles, remembering. “I had just enough experience to get in the door. I’d worked in such undisciplined kitchens. This was my first real professional kitchen where I learned technique, presentations and vocabulary: about quality in food.”
Under Pisano’s tutelage, Morton’s long locks gave way to a military coif and he calmed down enough to learn his craft. Risotto was a real trial. “It’s really good when done correctly, but there’s no way to fake it or hide. The trick to risotto is cooking it very slowly and to never walk away from it.”
The lessons Pisano imbued stay with Morton. “He said, ‘You should taste everything but you should taste nothing,’ which means that you should be able to taste all the ingredients that contribute to a dish, but nothing should overwhelm it. He also talked about the ‘face of food.’ Looking at a plate you should be able to see all the ingredients. Like in a sausage, each ingredient should be in every bite and in proper proportion.”
Friend John Dye lured Morton to Milwaukee in 2001 to work at Hi Hat as a cook. “Brunch had the volume and intensity of serving people who were hung over and hadn’t had their morning coffee yet. You spend six hours in a 120-degree box and you’re either going to kill each other or have a really good time.” Hi Hat Executive Chef Matt Post introduced him to the nuts and bolts of the business: costing, inventory management and processing employee paperwork.
It’s been a huge learning curve for Morton, who worked hard to find the owners’ palates and satisfy their food memories. He’s captured the Caribbean heat without the hellfire, from his entrées to his Habanero Chocolate Cake that emits a nice smooth afterglow. I rank the curried cashew veggie cakes, Cassie’s invention, as one of the best vegetarian dishes in town. Morton is rightly pleased with his Mango Mahi Mahi, a recipe he pulled out of his imagination, which brings together islands of flavor: succulent fish dressed in mango salsa plated with plantains, fragrant coconut rice and a brilliant sweet pomegranate reduction. Fresh corn on the cob, a rarity in restaurant menus, is served Cuban-style with mayonnaise and cotija cheese.
After a soft opening in September, Good Life has already received tons of ink and within weeks was packing in the crowds like a well-established restaurant. The focus at present is executing a small menu with consistency and quality. “It’s a long journey from taking a plate of food and tasting it and then making a hundred plates of that food from the same recipe and having it taste the same.” It’s a journey to which Chef Morton is totally devoted. Unmarried with no kids, pets or plants, he just works and sleeps. And for now, that’s a very good life. VS
