Remembering Chef Max Provost

The Tucson culinary scene lost one of their favorite brothers last week.

Max Provost was seen at just about every food-related event around town for the past decade. He was a self-described “Culinary Mercenary.” In fact, a Facebook post by Mama Louisa’s Chef/Owner, Micheal Elefante, alluded to Max as “The Culinary Deadpool.”

Max has lent his hands and palate to a good number of Tucsonan’s favorite restaurants. He also spent a great deal of time at the Mountain Oyster Club where the staff became his extended family. 

“Whether we were cheffing it up at the Club or at public events, we jammed together on eating half the menu and drinking excessive amounts of soju at Kimchi Time,” said Obadiah “Obie” Hindman, friend and Executive Chef at the Mountain Oyster Club. “Kicking back with the dogs on the porch and talking shop — Max was always a great friend and a good time. When he would help us out at the club, he would take the time to give the younger cooks advice, most of it good. Love you, Maxie. Save me a seat at your table.”

Max would often spin tales of his post-culinary school days, cooking and catering to stars in Hollywood. His skill set was both prodigious and prolific. Beyond what he put on a plate, listening to the man speak on food can be likened to hearing Mozart describing musical composition. As Mozart excelled in all musical genres of his time, Max could speak on and cook any cuisine. 

Chef Provost had a bit of a perfectionist side to him when it came to dishes, and while sometimes in the hustle and bustle of a busy service could be perceived as inefficient, it certainly was a thing of beauty.

It became a running joke with some chefs, but for one GUT Dinner, he took two days to make a perfect pea purée for a Spain-inspired dish. Max wasn’t just going to put any sauce on the dish — it needed to be the exact flavor, texture, or color.

He was a true artist at work.  

I had the personal pleasure of traveling with Max to France to represent Tucson during the Lyon’s Street Food Festival in 2023. Max, who has some French ancestry, took in all the sights and sounds of his family’s culture, and he ate it up. It was a delight to witness.

Often during the trip — when I was being my typical American Chef self, in a hurry, stressed out and uptight — Max would ply me with croissants, cigarettes, and coffee, reminding me to take it all in and embrace the European way of life (even if it meant a breakfast cocktail on a workday). This is just one of many great pieces of advice he gave me, and I am forever grateful for this life lesson. 

Max was an avid lover of dogs, and thankfully, his beloved and faithful companion, Rufus, was by his side until the end. 

I couldn’t begin to speculate on the order, but besides food and Rufus, Max’s third passion, and love of his life, were his friends. Max was the friend who was literally always there for his friends.

He was the first one to reach out when you were going through things, and he’d continue to reach out to make sure you were okay. If you ever needed anything — and I do mean anything — from help at the restaurant, a lunch companion, or fixing an appliance, Max would show up for you.

I thought that the hours of phone conversations we shared were a him-and-I thing until I heard the same stories shared by so many others after his passing. I actually can’t believe he had enough time to be such a good friend to so many.

When you became friends with Max, it was a close friendship — forever.

One example: Chef Janet Balderas and Max were friends first before they were neighbors. Their friendship grew over the years, and if you ever hung around the two of them together, you would have sworn they were brother and sister. So much so, that when Janet had her kids, Max instantly became “Uncle Max.” 

Max was a very well-spoken young man with a golden smile, and he could start and hold a conversation with anyone. Often, his outgoingness would result in lifelong friendships with people from all walks of life.

One quick glance at his Facebook page is evidence of this.

Such a huge outpouring of love for the man. So many stories and life experiences have been shared by people from all over the country. It is a true testament to the impact Max had on so many in the short time he was here in physical form. 

Max’s voice, food, and smile will be missed by his family, Rufus, the Tucson culinary community, and so many others. However, the memories he has made will keep his presence with us all for years to come. 

As Max, the “Culinary Mercenary,” would often say, “Have knives, will travel.”

Well, safe travels, our dear friend.