Knife's Edge - Restaurant Rants & Raves

Life in Prison - The Signature Dish

Before I go too far down this road I do want to acknowledge a certain amount of whining here and to quote an old friend who used to tell me "honey you've got high class problems now".

If you are fortunate enough to gain notoriety for a particular dish you then become obligated to offer it at every possible opportunity or risk the wrath of unhappy customers. Two nights ago we had people take seats, get water and then leave because we didn't have one such dish on the menu. The item in question is out of season. In a week or so it'll be available. It's also an appetizer. I wonder what these people think. Everything else on the menu must be crap? Wouldn't it stand to reason that if you are able to cook one standout dish that there must be at least a few other edible things on the menu?

How sick must they be at the French Laundry of "Oysters & Pearls" or Tongue & Cheek"?

The GM keeps pressing me to change the dish, thinking I'm bored with the preparation. I'm not. It's a good dish, I'm proud of my efforts and feel the attention it's received has been well-deserved. I'm just bored with people who search for it, to the point of being frantic. Or the people who leave because we don't happen to have it.

It happens everywhere. We talked with the manager at Citizen Cake who commiserated. They get the people asking for whatever it was Rachael Ray had there. "Sorry, we don't have that this evening." "But I saw it on Rachael Ray."

I love the press. I love people being able to find out our place exists. I hate that people can't take that information and form opinions on their own. But hey, these are high class problems and I'll stop whining.

To the Man Who Told Me "Fuck You" Last Night

I'm going to have to ask cedichou and Meathenge to weigh in here.

Sir:

When I saw you coming up the stairs with your friend, both of you helping your young children, I smiled. I spoke with your friend, shook his hand, he told me about the beach and the sunset and I told him about the sunset from the ridge top yesterday. I introduced myself to his son, you and yours were already heading towards your table. I saw there were 4 of you big people and 2 children and I recognized at least one of the women as local, though not a customer. You all looked nice, I was happy.

When the GM told me you had been negotiating for a larger table, one for 8 people and one "farther away from other people", I smiled again. As I've mentioned before in this blog, we seat people in particular places for a reason and the GM is very good at knowing where people should go. I knew she gave you her response to this request, "The table for 8 is actually too large for 4 adults and 2 children. You'll be very comfortable here. And all our tables are next to another."

When your waiter came over to tell us you had requested to go across the street to get a pizza for the children I was smiling, although out of amusement now rather than a warm, fuzzy feeling. When we sent her back with our polite but firm, "no, I'm sorry response", I didn't expect to see you get out of your seat and come to the front.

When you said "I'll make you a deal. How about we stay right up front here away from the table with the pizza" my amusement changed to disbelief. When the GM and I told you "I'm sorry sir, we just can't do that", the GM adding "it costs me money for your children to occupy a seat here. You could order your food to go and take it across the street to the pizza place and see how they handle it" I could see you didn't believe we were actually saying no. I could also see you knew exactly what the pizza place would have said. You and I know they bill themselves "the home of the adult pizza", that they have about 20 seats max and though we are friends with them and eat in each other's places all the time, we both know they would have given you exactly the same response we did.

When you said "my son has a very limited diet" I should have offered solutions. I should have assured you that we'd be able to make something that the little person would have enjoyed. Instead, I again repeated, "I'm sorry". When you said, "And you call yourselves a family restaurant" instead of saying, "We never called ourselves family restaurant" though that is true, we haven't, I should have said as the GM suggested, "Sir, we are a restaurant, period. We sell food." People have gotten engaged at our place but that doesn't make it a romantic spot, people have broken up at our tables, but we don't bill ourselves as the best place to leave your lover. We serve families, solo diners, happy and unhappy couples, motorcycle groups, wedding parties, speed freaks, people celebrating their 60th anniversaries and other chefs from the area. I wouldn't say that we cater to any of those groups.

When you said "Fuck you." I did exactly what I should do. I stood there and did nothing. I'm quite proud I didn't turn into Travis Bickle, saying, "Fuck me? Fuck me? FUCK ME?! FUCK YOU!!!!" And then spitting out a frothing mass of invective that would have made you wish you were never born.

When you apologized on your way out, did you realize you said, "I'm sorry I lost that", rather than I'm sorry I lost it? Minor point perhaps, but I think it gives me a clue that you saw this as a battle, that you had entrenched yourself and the only thing you could possibly do was to leave, and in so doing, making your friends leave with you. When I assured you, "That's fine" I was commiserating. I've been there, and boy did I feel stupid after losing my temper.

To the friend who told me he had been really looking forward to the meal: I told you then you could still enjoy yourself. Leaving was your choice.

Back to Mr Fuck You: Beyond the simple economics. A restaurant seat does indeed generate revenue, well, the seat doesn't, the person in the seat does. Some restaurants know by meal period, by hour, by any way you want to know, how much revenue they expect that seat to produce. We don't process that sort of information but we do know our per person average, and we do know that children won't come close to consuming anywhere near that average. So, in a certain sense we are losing money every time a child dines with us. Certainly in another sense we are making money because the parents are spending money and seats with someone in them are generating more revenue than seats with no one in them. We also know, sweeping generalization here, that responsible parents when dining with their children spend a bit less than when they come in on their own. Note I say responsible. There are some folks out there who might think nothing of downing a 5th glass of wine with their three year old at the table but fortunately we don't see too many of them. Or even being by themselves they might be more inclined to have an appetizer, entree, dessert, coffee, etc, than when they are concerned with a shorter attention span.

Where you got the idea we are a family restaurant I don't know. Perhaps because we have crayons on the tables. Perhaps you have friends who have told you how gracious and welcoming we are to them and their children. One such family dined with us the night before and was in two nights before that. Don't let these people fool you. You can talk with others in town who will tell you what horrible, vicious people we are because we spoke directly to their children and told them that their behavior was disturbing other people and that they would need to take their seats and draw or play quietly at their table.

Where you got the idea it's ok to order a pizza to bring into another restaurant I'll never know. Granted, I have read about some restaurants, who eager for "family" business will make arrangements to do something like what you were proposing. I doubt you have read about them, since I see this in trade papers and it is clear we are not in the same business. Even if this were business I were pursuing, I certainly wouldn't be looking to outside sources for the food. I'd make it. That's how I make my living. Now mind, I am not saying to the parents of a toddler who bring a banana to mash up at the table to let me sell you the banana, nor do I mind unduly the occasional request to warm up some baby food for a young toothless person. Saying that, I do realize I'm on a slippery slope here. Is there a cut-off age, particular type of food? I'm drawing the line at sitting erect, wielding a utensil and having even limited conversation.

But sir, beyond the sheer economics, I spend an average of 11 hours per day working. Making food. Worrying about food. Worrying about my customers comfort. Worrying about whether they will like the food. By telling me there's nothing I can cook your son that he will eat you are slapping me in the face. And few people like being insulted.

After you left, the waiter told me that others at your table were saying "No, don't ask, don't ask." This tells me either you knew your request was out of line, or they were advising you to just do it and not ask. I'll go with the former. And this sir, is what infuriates me more than anything else. I hate when people try to justify what they know to be untrue, whether it's our administration doing it, you doing it or when the GM and I disagree over something we actually agree on. When you know your argument is invalid why the hell do you try to make it? You didn't take your food to go and try to eat at the pizza place because you knew they wouldn't accept that. If your kid doesn't eat anything but pizza why didn't you take care of that before dining with your friends?

Which brings me to another point. Some kids will eat readily and some won't. I get this. I also get coming from a background where at times what we had for dinner might have been all that was in the house, I get picking up out of date items from a supermarket dumpster as a kid because I did it. I get hunger. Not as acutely as some. But I get it. By letting your son decide where you and your friends will eat, you are producing another person like yourself. Entitled, rude and abusive when things don't go his way. Your job is to prepare this young soul for life among his fellows. Part of that job is teaching him how to deal with situations where he's not getting what he wants. Your behavior last night taught him a pretty poor lesson. And deprived you and your friends of a great meal, in an inviting atmosphere. The place across the street makes good pizza, I eat it frequently, but it's not where you set out to go.

You should also know that minutes after you left a party of 5 came in. A man about your age, who has a son the same age as our restaurant. The son was not with the party last night it's true. But in contrast, the family is a favorite of ours. Their son is a dwarf, and while that has at times put a strain on their relationship, and I'm sure has produced some heartbreaking moments, they are positive, upbeat people, who have not let their son's condition turn them into bitter, entitled people. They have brought their son to dine with us since he was an infant and we had just opened. One of our waiters knitted him a hat when he was two and we always loved to see him in the high chair at the beginning of the meal and then zonked out by the end. Dad and his friends took a table, had another great evening and left happy. If that's being a family restaurant, I suppose we are.

Now ced and Biggles, give me the dad's perspective. You're about the same age and both as far as I can tell trying to do a good job being dad. I know there was another resolution, but I didn't feel like one was available in the moment. To be fair to the dad I also was so stunned that I probably was less willing to entertain other solutions, feeling that if he didn't get why it wasn't ok to bring food from another restaurant into ours that I was less willing to to try to solve his problem.

Celebrating Bird

As we approach our day of national excess I've been thinking about the nature of our holidays. I had thought during Halloween that we'd be a lot better off if everyone dressed in their costumes all the time. Of course, anyone who knows me knows this wouldn't be a big leap for me. In fact my biggest dilemma every Halloween is wearing something that people will recognize as a costume rather than just my regular clothes.

Wouldn't it be nicer if we ate together regularly with people we love (and loathe) like at Thanksgiving, or we were loving and attentive to our partners like at Valentine's Day all the time?

I suppose these days, for most people, the holidays are an easy out. A duty to perform and by so doing getting some absolution for the rest of the year. Because in this business you rarely see holiday spirit.

That's why we close for Thanksgiving and Christmas. It started because in our first year of business we had contracted for a massive New Year's Eve 2000 party. Most of crew were young drinkers and we wanted no arguments and no no-shows, so we said we'd close for those two holidays but New Year's attendance was mandatory. In subsequent years we've kept it that way for other reasons.

The aftermath of the holiday is bad enough. People who have little affection for each other forced by societal expectations to spend, gasp, an entire weekend with each other, who, not being able to say what they really want to their father-in-law, take it out on the waiter.

We also didn't want to have to throw our entire routine into chaos, particularly for Thanksgiving. A completely different menu for one day, trying to encompass everyone's traditions and favorites. No thanks.

I feel particularly sorry for my friends the food writers who have to report on every season's celebrations. Yikes! How boring can that get? I'd love to be a fly on the wall during the editorial calendar meeting at Gourmet or Food & Wine when the turkey issue is discussed.

So this year, as we have been doing for the past 6, we will be heading to my mom's place, about an hour away from here. Although there will be a significant number of people there (last years count in the high 60's, the year before 92) I only have to bring one food item.

Christmas, that's a whole other story.

Pay You Back With Interest

Last night  I was working the floor with only two waiters and a busser and we were pretty busy. A little too busy for only two waiters. Everything was fine, except I think I'm out twenty bucks.

After the rush had passed, but we were still hustling, a man who looked like a typical resident of our town came to the top of the stairs. That is to say, he was sporting a ball cap, was a little grubby looking, but not filthy, wearing a tee-shirt with a flannel shirt over it and with an expression that made me think the little man stoking the coal inside this guy's head had taken a break.

He told me he had an emergency and his Uncle Del told him the only place he could think to go was our place and to look for the man with the <insert my most distinctive feature here>, "he's a really nice man". He told me was trying to get to work, was out of gas, needed money, they'd pay me tomorrow with interest, his wife Roni worked at Safeway and she'd be in at 4:30, would I be here? I allowed I wouldn't, he asked if someone would they could leave the money with plus interest. He said his Uncle Del ate with us often.

Whether I'm a nice man is open for debate. I am however, a soft touch. I have been down on my luck enough, and invented enough preposterous stories to be at least amused when someone goes to the effort of that much elaboration. I also like to quote my favorite sage of the beggar, Henry Miller, who said "to be generous is to say yes before the man even opens his mouth."

I asked him what he needed. He said $20 and they'd throw in an extra $10 when they repaid me. I told him that wasn't necessary, gave him the twenty and returned my attention to the dining room. Later, searching our mailing list yielded no Del's, Uncle or otherwise.

I could be wrong. The GM and I are going in for dinner tonight. Maybe I'll have $20 to leave for a tip.

A Record

Here we are in the slow time of year and we had a record night. The GM opened the gates about 5 minutes early, which is an extreme rarity for her. They didn't stop coming all night. The longest wait was an hour and ten minutes and we ended up seating people nearly an hour after we closed. They had been in the previous evening with a large group who were attending a memorial service. We called a few other places trying to get them fed and just couldn't turn away hungry people who had come from a funeral.

Although things were mostly smooth I did wish we had our group of Leo girls on the floor. We had three young women who had birthdays within a week or so of each other who gave amazing service and were insanely beautiful as well. They're all doing other things now, one works for a title company, one is in college and the other is taking care of her small nephew who has a deadly disease and wasn't expected to live as long as he has.

This is not to slight the people we have. They're just new and while the machine is running, I don't know that I would call it well-oiled. Under the circumstances I'd say they did a great job.

The GM's neck went out. Of course, it's Sunday and no options to fix it today and she has to be charming at our winemaker's dinner tonight. And I have to go now. Everything on the prep list marked, plus prep for the winemaker dinner and prep for our three course prix fixe.

Unconventional

We're in the midst of one of two culinary festivals we have here. This one focuses on mushrooms and it's been a spectacular season for them. Rain and cool weather are bringing forth chanterelles and porcini in such quantity that I'm paying as little as $5 per pound for golden chanterelles. I have yet to get out in the woods myself, I usually wait until a little later in the season and usually pick the less commercially viable varieties like hedgehogs, or shaggy manes. This is both because I'd like the pickers to make a living and because given the nocturnal hours I keep, by the time I get to the forest they're all that's left.

We're serving a three course mushroom themed dinner every night of the festival: Wilted greens with trumpet royale mushrooms and truffle oil vinaigrette, gnocchi with chanterelle and house cured ham ragout, and candy cap creme brulee with spicy chocolate bark for dessert. The candy caps have a maple flavor and the creme brulee is a good talking point for the staff. When have most of our customers had a dessert they enjoyed with mushrooms and cayenne pepper?

I did a cooking demo yesterday morning and I'll do a class on Monday. Sunday night we're having a winemaker's dinner with one of the old-timers here. He just completed his 60th organic harvest. As he puts it, when he was a kid they couldn't afford chemicals. It was cheaper to send the kids out to the field to weed and get rid of pests. Over time they compared their results to their neighbors and realized their grapes outperformed the chemically farmed ones.

Unlike many of the newer organic growers, his winery doesn't trumpet this all over their bottles, although I think they may have added something about organically grown grapes on their last vintage. They grow that way because that's who they are and how they do things and don't use it as a marketing tool. Which I love. We have people telling us we should use organic products, we should use Niman meat, we should add organic wines to our wine list, etc.

We do use organic products, although not exclusively, and our meats and poultry have always been hormone and antibiotic free, as well as free range, although I don't feel like paying for Niman's pr machine, so I seek out other suppliers, the Gm has finally added the organic designation to those wines which have had a home on our list for years.

Certainly the flipside of not loudly stating that you use organics is if no one says it, then it doesn't penetrate into mainstream consciousness. And having people be aware of what they eat, where it comes from and how it produced is vital knowledge. I'm just tired of self-righteous fools parroting what they read and asking questions they really don't want answered, or making they statements they really don't understand.

One thing I do think is important though is to frame the debate. Years ago at a Chef's Collaborative conference I heard a discussion about terminology that still applies. Instead of posing the question of organic vs "conventional" agriculture, instead pose the question organic vs "chemical". After all there's nothing conventional about spraying chemicals all over your food.

A Recipe for Tonight

Just finished the Artist's & Writer's Cookbook, a lovely tome from Kudzu's collection with recipes from such notables as Man Ray, Jean Tinguely, Edgard Varese, Isak Dinesen, Marcel Duchamp and many others. This one, by Mark Tobey, caught my eye for tonight.

Recipe for a Dish of Nothing:
On a fireless stove and in a state of complete abstraction, place in a well-ungreased pan about two bales of Forest Silence. Remain motionless about 15 minutes. At the boiling point, remove and serve.

The Tyranny of the Highly Personal Chef

When I first read this piece (you may have to register to read it) in the New York Times I was full of things to say about it. But after re-reading it I'm a little confused by Daniel Patterson's intent. He's taking on what he describes as the tyranny of and by extension the cult of Chez Panisse which he tactfully says he admires. He then goes on to bemoan the lack of influence Thomas Keller has had on the way SF chefs cook and to point out that Bay Area cooking is not very innovative. To quote chef Patterson

This is an argument against the dogma of using those ingredients to create only comfortable home cooking with no particular point of view.

But earlier in the article he says

Even when channeling the home cooking of other countries like Vietnam (the Slanted Door) or Peru (Limón), the chefs stay true to the primacy of simplicity and cultural authenticity.

So is that not a point of view ? The only example he gives of what he thinks should be happening is to say we need more chefs like David Kinch of Manresa who

uses local ingredients, precise technique and a generous helping of imagination to create a modern, innovative and highly personal style of cooking.

The most telling sentence in the article however, is

A San Francisco diner said: "When I go out for a Wednesday-night meal, I don't want something in gelée. I want a pork chop or a bowl of pasta."

Alright, now down to business. First Chez Panisse and Alice Waters. Let's separate the restaurant from the personality. I certainly wasn't there, but I'd be inclined to accept Jeremiah Tower's description of Ms Waters in his book California Dish, in the early days as closer to the truth. Granted he is a bitchy old queen but I'd be willing to bet that he did indeed raise the bar for ingredients at Chez Panisse. I'd also be willing to bet that if Jeremiah hadn't been so willing to blow James Beard and Richard Olney that no one outside of a few Berkeleyites would have ever heard of Chez Panisse.

However Alice came to her vegetable realizations doesn't matter. She has been able to parlay that into a full-blown persona of Alice in the wide brimmed hat, market basket in hand, bringing organic veggies to schoolkids. Which is great, kids need good food. For better or worse a good chunk of my childhood nutrition came from the free school lunch programs at my grade schools. Perhaps if they had been serving me great organic food I might have stayed in school. Nah, probably not. But perhaps my body would be in better shape.

Now onto stylistic difference. Since Patterson is writing for the NY Times I'm going to assume he is saying SF is conservative food-wise as compared to NY. This is true. I once had an argument with Paul Bartolotta about what was a better restaurant city. His contention was NY, mine SF. We were both right, but we were looking at it from a different perspective. His was that all the money and the talent you could ever want was in NY and so there was no question that the best high-end places were in NY. Mine was that all the ingredients were here and so I was pretty comfortable knowing I could walk into just about any reasonably priced SF eatery and get amazing produce. So, if you're looking for a high-end, "look what I can do" type of experience, yeah, NY has that. NY also has a population of 8 million as opposed to SF's estimated 750 thousand. What does that tell me? That I was right when I moved to SF and felt like I had moved into a small village. I had. Little did I know where I'd wind up.

It also tells me NY can support more places that Patterson would like to see. Most diners are like the one quoted above. They want good food, not challenging personal visions. And most restaurants survive on repeat business. I can guarantee you Delfina sees more returning guests than The French Laundry, or even Gary Danko. Yes, they're cheaper but I think you get my drift. Believe me if I tried to sell the dish described at the end of Patterson's article I'd end up eating a whole lot of clam tapioca for dinner. Funny, while writing this I flashed on clams, tapioca.... Oysters, tapioca....hmmmm. Is this some sort of highly personal style of cooking, or just a little plagiarism from the French Laundry canon?

One things chefs have to start to understand is it's not about them. It's about the customer. People go to dinner for a variety of reasons, most of which have very little to do with the food. Many of you reading this are the exception. We do go places for an amazing, palate-bending experience. Most people go because they're on their way to other things, like getting laid, or reuniting with old friends, or simply because they cannot cook very well and need to eat something.

Ultimately what Patterson is decrying is the lack of inspiration in SF. The truth is, we can't all be geniuses. Another truth is most geniuses don't get air-time, because they intimidate the majority, and we're all, like it or not, playing to the majority.

The article did however inspire me to keep growing, learning and trying to push the envelope here in the middle of nowhere. It's pretty easy for us to be the best thing going in our neck of the woods so this rattled my complacency. I get the message, pristine ingredients do not make a cuisine. But, neither do chefs and restaurateurs. Diners do.

 

Follow Suit

It's been quite a while since I've had a real post. Halloween just gets in the way. I really wanted to do a huge Corpse Bride pumpkin for the finale but when I got to the store, alas, the pickings were slim. Next year I will order a case or two from my produce people although that means I don't get to evaluate them for carveability.

I will also get to posting the headcheese recipe but I feel like I just need to catch up.

We've been trying to give the GM an extra day off the floor. Five days of customer contact is just too much. So, I've been donning a suit and working the room instead of the stove. Let me tell you, the clothes do make the man. I feel poorly for the GM since she has had 6 plus years of dealing with recalcitrant diners, trying to direct them to the seats she'd like them to take only to have them frantically look around the room for a "better" table. This is a concept I've never understood. If you're seated next to an open sewer, sure, but what the hell does where you sit have to do with your meal? Do people really not get that restaurants make their money from making people feel welcome and comfortable and that most of the decisions we make, including where to seat them, have their comfort in mind?

At our place we have enormous south-facing windows along two of our walls. Everyone wants a window table. Yes, it's dark and yes the windows face the exciting view of a street with no exciting features but hey, got to be by that window. So the trick is to steer people to the other side of the room, by the railing, once the windows are full, or when a waiter is maxed out and can't gracefully handle another table. The suit (and unfortunately, being a man) helps. People have followed right along.

Of course the window thing can be turned to our advantage. If we need to buy a little time we can say to the customer, "If you want to wait a few minutes we can have a window table set up for you."

The other thing about the suit is that our regulars are commenting how wonderful I look, which is all well and good but the GM is still far more attractive, always looks wonderful but gets half the compliments.

At any rate it has been revelatory. I've also been noticing bad habits of our staff that the GM has somewhat given up on correcting that we will address in our upcoming staff meeting. Most of the floor staff is terrified of me, which is pretty funny because I am essentially the rough, tough, creampuff and the GM is lovely to look at but do it her way, or else. But, they would rather quit or die than displease me (the joys of having a dysfunctional family for your staff) so perhaps some of these noxious behaviors will be stopped.

It's also good for me step out of the kitchen. It lets the kitchen crew test their limits, develop and challenges their creativity. Since an old, well-liked employee has returned our sous has been trying much harder. He still needs help in the vegetable department, he just doesn't have a love for vegetable cookery and it shows. He's trying to lose weight though so maybe he'll develop that part of his palate.