Randy Page’s mother learned to cook from a Betty Crocker cookbook – which Randy still has – but she was blessed with innate talent. Randy’s childhood, on a little farm just outside of Charlotte, North Carolina, was a feast of made-from-scratch meals and pies so good he’s never been able to duplicate them.
At eight years old, Randy decided to make a cake; he threw a lot of stuff in a pot and baked it. It was, in a word, inedible. From this, he learned that you can’t cook anything without study and practice. He got a French cookbook, and by the age of ten was regaling his classmates with homemade croissants and chocolate mousse.
Yes, he was smart, very smart, but he was also, in his own words, “kind of lazy.” After high school, he worked flipping burgers while nursing dreams of somehow, without too much work, becoming rich and famous.
“Randy, you need to get a real job,” a buddy of his told him. “Come to culinary school.”
‘Why not?’ thought Randy, and he ended up at the Culinary Institute of America. After that, he returned to Charlotte to be a chef.
“With my diploma, I could have worked with any chef in New York City, even the most famous,” he says. “But I just wanted to wear that big white hat in my home state.”
And thus began a 40 year career. Page worked in several well-known fine dining restaurants, as well as at Arkansas State University at Jonesboro as the culinary director. Lazy no longer, Page put in several years there and then moved to Tulsa to do the same job at ORU.
Now, you’ll find him in a cozy little shop on Tulsa’s Lewis Avenue – Cricket & Fig Chocolate – surrounded by comfy leather chairs and a legion of adoring customers. What he’s famous for now? Chocolate truffles.
He makes his succulent creations by hand, and it takes two days. He uses Valrhona chocolate from France – the best on the planet, he says. On the first day, he melts then cools it in order to prevent the complex crystalline sugar from being ruined by heat. That’s called tempering. Then, he makes the fillings – ganache based, using butter, cream, chocolate and three kinds of sugar. (Page has the science down pat, and if asked, he’ll give a practiced, knowledgeable spiel on the function of each.
There’s also a flavor mixed in. Lavender and local honey, for example, or maybe pistachio paste from Sicily. Another truffle features burnt honey, Scotch whiskey and local beeswax. Meanwhile, he’s poured the chocolate into molds, and, for some varieties, he hand paints them. In goes the ganache, and this concludes the first day. The chocolates rest all night to crystallize, and after one more day’s work, they are ready to sell.
The shop also serves breakfast and lunch, cooked by Kathryn Thomasson. You can enjoy a home-baked scone topped with a thick slice of bacon and melted cheese, a grilled cheese sandwich, cheeseburgers, pasta, salads and more.
“It’s simple food,” he says, “done well.”
And what, praytell, happened to the lazy version of Randy? He was transformed, simply by the love of his craft.
“We work hard,” Page says, “and I don’t do it for the money – there ain’t much of that – but every time someone takes a bite of chocolate and I see he loves it, I get gratification instantly, and I can relive that golden moment all day.”
