Though I am merely a mediocre home kitchen chef at best, I would imagine that opening a restaurant could plague a professional chef with as much doubt as it does freedom. While you do get to create your own menu from recipes crafted over your years of experience, what if you stray too far from the tried and true? Will anyone other than adventurous foodies frequent your restaurant? This conundrum can be particularly daunting in a city like New Orleans, where the culture and cuisine are so intertwined that some would argue New Orleanians subscribe to gastronomic protectionism.

While we all know the “French bistro with a Creole twist” is de riguer in New Orleans, sometimes wouldn’t we all like to try something different? Many people admit to frequenting the same five restaurants and nothing else. It can be scary to branch out, and that’s where the beauty of small plates really shines as they allow us to expand our culinary repertoire without making a full commitment and for a portion of the price.

Lately I’ve noticed that local wine bars have been filling the gap between an established restaurant and a catered event. Kitchen or no kitchen, wine bars have been hosting local chefs to serve up small plates in a veritable culinary round robin. Challenges abound: privacy is nonexistent, tools and space are limited, and all ingredients must be schlepped in. Often the set-ups are reminiscent of a Top Chef challenge: “Create a culinary spectacle from these five ingredients using only a plastic spork and a ShamWow.”

What chefs would forgo the prestige of heading a kitchen to subject themselves to this sort of pain and likely public failure? Chef Daniel Esses exemplifies a new breed of traveling chefs. One wonders when he rests. He slings tapas at Cork + Bottle on Tuesdays and at Swirl on Fridays. He has become a regular in the Sunday Bachannal rotation and on Tuesdays and Thursdays he’s selling his fresh pasta and sauces at the Crescent City Farmers Market. I recently attended a short course he led at Swirl on fresh pasta making and realized another medium that his mobility allows for: instruction.

Imagine the scene: the class was led in the back corner of the store while customers wander in and out, cell phones ring, half the class is sitting a la Linda Blair in The Exorcist in order to be able to see, two ladies at my table are treating the course like their own personal happy hour complete with an ongoing side conversation, and a dog wanders aimlessly in between the students’ feet. Not exactly a quiet backdrop against which to teach 24 pasta virgins how to make three kinds of pasta and three sauces in less than two hours.

Sidenote: doesn’t all the white in this pic make it look like a kabbalah meeting? Is that Jeff Goldblum in the background?

Although a bit endearingly clumsy at first, Esses seemed to grow into the role before our eyes. Able to simultaneously demonstrate how to form the ravioli while the first sauce simmers, he balanced cooking, teaching, and serving well enough to keep us all interested. Funny anecdotes from his experience working in some of New Orleans’ better known kitchens as well as generous pairings served with each course certainly helped. In keeping with the experimental atmosphere, Beth, our host and part owner of Swirl, encouraged students to try each wine with each pasta.

The most exceptional pairing was our first mini-course – a goat cheese/edamame/sun-dried tomato ravioli in a shitake marsala sauce paired with a Domaine Ostertag Pinot Gris. The earthy flavors of the wine were a perfect match for the woodsy shitakes.

The second pairing was a fettuchini in Esses’signature puttanesca paired with a Ciacci Piccolomini Sangiovese.

The final pairing was farfale in vodka sauce paired with Paitin Dolcetto.

Gross shot, I know. I almost wolfed it down before remembering to take a picture.

Esses says his ultimate goal is to set up a local establishment where he can sell a variety of prepared foods. He envisions an exhibition-style kitchen where customers can watch the pasta making process from conception to completion. I don’t know about y’all, but I’ll be waiting impatiently for the opening.