They've gone native

WEST NEWTON -- Lumiere chef Michael Leviton, as little and wiry and tightly wound as a Preakness jockey, is battling the suburban stop-and-go traffic on his way to the Belmont farmers' market. Earlier in the week he ordered corn, blueberries, and nectarines from Kimball Fruit Farm in Pepperell. At the market he retrieves and pays for the produce, then floats from stand to stand picking up this or that perfect thing and making plans with a farmer to come back next week for some delicate haricots verts. He stacks and crams the bounty in the back of his Subaru wagon, rolls down the windows, and heads back to the kitchen to prep and cook.

For years, Leviton and many other area chefs have stocked their larders with local meat and produce. It's hard to remember that this kind of shopping was once considered revolutionary -- the likes of heirloom vegetables and farmstead cheeses have entered the mainstream, and seasonal and artisanal sensibilities have trickled down from the degustation all the way to the train station. Even McDonald's has served fair trade certified coffee.

But the conversation about how to make use of such ingredients continues. We talked to four local chefs with very different businesses and asked them about their approach to eating locally.

Back at Lumiere, Leviton discusses some of the challenges of a regional focus. He and his crew are breaking down the corn they got at the market. "The cost of labor is what really kills me," says the chef. "[Large-scale distributor] Sysco probably sells corn already husked and garlic peeled. Buying that stuff would save me time and money, but it wouldn't taste as good." Leviton says that local food can cost more, and that the supply and quality can sometimes be more variable than he would like, but that he wouldn't have it any other way. "We're not using local just to use local," he says. "We buy local food because it tastes better, and we cook with the seasons because that makes sense. You could serve asparagus year round, but it's so much sweeter for just that one month in the spring."

Leviton realizes that cooking with only what is in season locally can alienate some diners. "A couple that dines out just sometimes may feel cheated if there aren't fresh raspberries with their chocolate, but in the winter that's how it is," he says. To make up for the minimalist plates, the cooks do more detailed sauce work, lots of stocks and reductions, and make sure that every little thing is perfect. "In February we serve braised lamb shanks with white beans and gremolata," says the chef. "It's as good as any heirloom tomato salad. Just different."

Kingfish Hall chef Katherine DeWitt See also favors local ingredients. Though the Faneuil Hall restaurant, which often caters to tourists, is sizable -- it has 180 seats and does between 200 and 500 covers a night -- See is still able to use a dozen small purveyors rather than one or two giants. She buys produce from A. Russo and Sons in Watertown and Sid Wainer & Son in New Bedford.

"Sid Wainer calls and they tell me what they have from local farms," says See. "Right now we have heirloom tomatoes, tons of corn, and all of our salad greens from Massachusetts farms." Kingfish Hall sources seafood from seven different fishmongers, all of them local except for the salmon specialists, who are out in the Pacific Northwest. "When people come here they expect to find New England fish," says See. "We have snapper from the South Atlantic and salmon from Alaska, but we focus on the cod and the black bass and the East Coast halibut. We have Maine shrimp and bay scallops in the winter, at least six local oysters every night, and our lobster boil is all local -- local corn, local clams, and local lobsters. When we have beautiful stuff, it's like guaranteed inspiration for the cooks."

Then there's James Lionette, co-owner of Lionette's Market and the Garden of Eden Cafe in the South End. Every week, Lionette buys a whole pig from a farm in Vermont -- then makes sausages, renders the lard, and sells the ham. Lionette pays more for his Vermont pig than he would for an animal from a more industrial source, but he says it's worth the cost, as much because of politics as flavor. "This is the real price of pork," he says. "Americans spend less per capita on food than anyone else in the world." For him, he says, the decision to buy local is "beyond philosophical." "It's the only way to eat," he says. "Every bit of meat we serve comes from local farms."

David Becker isn't quite as zealous. This time of year the chef-owner of Sweet Basil in Needham can't get enough local tomatoes, but he says that "when they're gone, they're gone." "Everybody understands that the good stuff is only around for a short time," he says. Becker buys most of his produce from Natick Community Organic Farm (and in return loads the farmers up with used fry grease to run in their diesel tractors) and Volante Farms in Needham, and deals with a couple of "souped up" gardeners who come by with whatever doesn't fit in their fridges. From local farms he gets edible flowers for the table, thimble-size turnips ("not those cannonballs dipped in wax "), and maple syrup "so good you want to just soak pancakes in it." Becker doesn't mind serving tomatoes out of season, but he does mind dealing with corporations -- he'll only order them from local purveyors. "Sysco is the Darth Vader of the food world and [distributor] US Foods is like Sysco's little punk brother," he says.

Becker also disagrees with the idea that local is always better. "You have to use your senses sometimes," he says. "There is no substitute for local tomatoes, but fresh shrimp are usually goopier and mealier than frozen shrimp, and I like the gummy, stabilized heavy cream so much better than the wholesome stuff." Becker buys hydroponic basil even in the summer. "It's just nicer stuff," he says. "It's tender, sweet, dirt-free, bug-free, and every bit is useable. Field basil grows like weeds and comes in half-brown, bug-eaten, sunburned, and so thick they probably chop it with a machete."

He feels the same way about grass-fed veal. "Grass-fed veal is tough," he says. "People who eat veal here don't care whether the thing lived in a milk crate or was frolicking out in the fields -- you tell them about the good husbandry and they just point at the food and tell you it stinks again."

Like most chefs, Becker is trying to make his diners happy and keep cooking. "Usually we end up buying the best of the worst," he says. "Like chevre from Vermont Butter & Cheese Company rather than from some old hippie lady churning it and trying to sell you goat's milk soap at the same time. It's not as romantic, but at least we can stay in business."

Lumiere is at 1293 Washington St., West Newton, 617-244-9199. Kingfish Hall is in the Faneuil Hall Marketplace, South Market Building, Boston, 617-523-8862. Lionette's Market is at 577 Tremont St., Boston, 617-778-0360. The Garden of Eden Café is at 571 Tremont St., Boston, 617-247-8377. Sweet Basil, 942 Great Plain Ave., Needham, 781-444-9600.