Knife's Edge - Restaurant Rants & Raves

Moving Target

We're re-hiring someone in a couple weeks. This person has gone through phases of being a good employee and a not so good one. Some of the behaviors this person has exhibited are really questionable. Many of this person's co-workers complain about the behavior.

So why would we rehire?

First- training is expensive. It takes money away from the other employees to have extra people while a person is being trained. It's a drain on our time. Training takes a long time. The GM is better at it than I, and she's only there two days a week. That makes for an even longer training period.

Second- We believe there are life lessons to be learned in the workplace. Working through these behaviors is a lesson this person obviously needs to learn. How to deal with the behavior might be one we need to learn.

Third- We have learned over the years that our organization needs certain "types". These people serve roles at the restaurant, often ones we don't know we need. This person, along with one other, unfortunately fills the role of scapegoat. A safety valve for the other employees to release frustration. By pinpointing this person, correctly or not, they're a more cohesive team. A little sick, yes. But life is like that sometimes. When this person really gets sick of playing this role, they'll change enough to convince their co-workers.

Miss You

It is no secret to anyone who used to read this blog that I have gone through a mighty unproductive slump. In truth, I've been adrift, both here and at work, sleepwalking in a sense. My role at the restaurant has shifted almost entirely to front of house and I have to say it's something I'm just not that good at.

I miss the adrenaline of cooking. I miss the daily application of skills I have been refining for years. I miss the kitchen.

We just put out our spring menu, and I spent the entire service in the kitchen for the first time in quite a while. It felt good and weird. I need to spend more time there.

Here Comes the Bridezilla

I've got a tasting for a catering gig tomorrow. My goal for the coming year is to capture as much catering business as possible. In years past catering was something I did, but only for really agreeable people, who wanted to spend decent money. I didn't have the staff and nearly all the gigs here are in the middle of summer, when we're insanely busy anyway. Now though, I have a good stable of people who have worked for me in the past, who have straight jobs now, and they're available summer weekends. I've also got a tentative agreement with a friend who got out of the kitchen a while back and is ready to get back in on a limited basis.

What I have done in past years are tastings, mostly not trying to get the catering job, but trying for the rehearsal dinner business. The rehearsals are easy, smaller numbers, less on the line, people usually more agreeable, and I don't have to pack anything up or divert staff from the restaurant. I still want the rehearsals.

My problem is I've refined my pitch to not get the job and have done it for so many years, it's hard to shake. I need to get back to selling, and trying to actually get the business.

Why I Do What I Do, Part IV

We're approaching a milestone anniversary, and we've asked customers to share favorite memories with us. We've been getting some fun ones. One of my favorites is this:

A few years ago we took our then 10 or 11 year old son Sam to your place to celebrate his birthday. He chose you over restaurants offering more kid-oriented fare such as pizza. It had for some time been one of our favorite restaurants for family meals because we liked the food and we could color on the tables. At this particular visit, however, our son had a particularly formative culinary experience. After receiving his order of fried chicken we noticed that he had gotten really quiet. We asked him if everything was okay and he said, with a dreamy look in his eye and a drumstick clutched in his fist, "don't talk- I just want to be alone with this". Later came his own chocolate XXXX, which he declared he wanted to marry.

Brass in Pocket (I'm Special)

I had a brief, but very nice conversation with folks from The Linkery down in San Diego. I asked them how things have changed since they've moved into larger quarters. Jay's response articulated what I had been searching for, in trying to describe the changes I'd been feeling at my own restaurant.

He said, "Now, everyone's a specialist at their job. Before we were all generalists." I realized this is where we're heading. And most importantly I need to become a specialist. I've been working toward this for a few months now, training others to take on some of the tasks I or the GM have been doing for many years.

I also realized I avoid training because I don't want to go through the six months of watching people stumble. Ten years down the road that six months doesn't seem so long.

Living Large

There has to be a better way to serve large parties. I don't mean large like 2500 people at a convention center. I mean parties from 12-20 or so.

It's great people want to celebrate, or a work group wants to go out for a co-worker's birthday. We want them to come to us. We want them to have a good time. We also want to serve them graciously, efficiently, and leave them feeling they'd like to join us again.

The biggest impediment is that people insist that they be seated at one table. Let's face it, if you've got 15 people sitting down to dinner, people on one end of the table aren't talking to people on the other end. I understand the psychological value of all being together and at the table. I also understand that in certain circumstances there is a special guest and the need to all be at the table with that guest is important.

It's hard to get a large table to stop visiting and place an order. A table of 15 can easily take 30 minutes to order. Then the waiter has to input the order which takes a few more minutes. The kitchen takes a minute or two to decode the special requests and count all the items on the order and before you know it 45 minutes has gone by before the first guest to order gets an appetizer. So the guest thinks the restaurant has slow service.

We try to get people to sit at neighboring tables in smaller groups, explaining it really is for their comfort. Usually, the guests think we are being unaccomodating. Often, after they've agreed to the arrangement, they start moving the tables once they arrive so the tables are touching.

If we have a party of 14 or larger we ask they choose from a limited menu and again, the perception is we're being unaccomodating. We don't hold fast to this line, there are a number of variables; time of dining, season, whether we know the people, what the occasion is, etc.

Our dining room is large, and very inviting for large groups. They are a significant portion of our business and I'd like to better serve them. Any thoughts?

Luck is Made, not Found

I have never understood making January 1st a holiday. In a nation allegedly dedicated to the ideal of improving your station in life through hard work, taking the first day of the year off seems perverse. Unless of course, the ideal is a standard other people are held to, not one you actually apply to yourself.

That said, I'm not working. Because it is my normal day off, not because we're closed. The GM is at the restaurant and The Sardine is sleeping. And I'm enjoying the quiet that comes with everyone else being hungover and closed.

I've had my fill of Hoppin' John. Last night we covered two sides of my heritage by serving lentil soup with pancetta and salami (for my half Italian blood-line), and sauteed halibut with Worcestershire butter sauce, scallion spoonbread and Hoppin' John (for my Southern childhood, with wry nods to my English/Welsh blood-line, my Northern Ca culinary sensibilites, and my Francophilia).

I started the day with more Hoppin' John. I resolve to be luckier this year.

Looking Back All I Did Was Look Away

2008, despite the recent financial meltdown was a good year for me personally, but not such a good one for blogging. I just needed a little time to do what the title of the song in the lyric I used for the headline says.

As for the year's end, I'm hoping the crash and subsequent repair of our keg fridges will be an omen of things to come. I knew the fridges had problems. The beer wouldn't pour properly. It was foamy and took a loooong time to draw a pint. The waiters sold little beer, and I don't blame them.

There are two parts of the keg beer equation. One is temperature, the other pressure. The Co2 pressure was correct, the box just wasn't cold enough.

Last night, the beer poured perfectly. The new compressor is working great. I'm not looking forward to the bill, but I'm glad the problem is fixed. Just like, hopefully, our nation.

Sour Grapes

"But Atticus, he's pouring sugar molasses* all over his dinner!", is what went through my mind when the couple asked for olive oil and balsamic vinegar for their bread. I don't get it. How did this start?

Olive oil I can (kind of) see. But not really. Bread acts like a sponge, soaking up way more oil than I really want to eat, unless you're really quick about dabbing the bread in the oil. You might as well drink a shot of olive oil.

Balsamic vinegar I can't see. Especially not the "balsamic" you are likely to encounter at 99% of restaurants. I don't have real balsamic on hand, and indeed have only tasted 100 year old balsamic twice in my life. Even restaurants that keep really great vinegar on hand are unlikely to pour it for a bread spread.

In the scene from"To Kill a Mockingbird" that I reference above Atticus lets Scout know that to comment on how or what people eat is rude, especially when, like Walter the sugar molasses pourer, they don't know any better. My role when I'm on the floor is to be Atticus. Inside though, Scout is hollering.

*Thanks meloukhia

Compressed

The compressor for our keg refrigerator died. A fitting end to the year. Things tired and crapping out, needing an overhaul, but probably not until the new year.

I often forget machines need maintenance. I somehow think they're just supposed to work, forever, with no input or care from me. I forget less than I used to, and am no longer surprised when they break, or parts wear out. At least, on older machines. When a new Kitchen-Aid mixer starts popping springs after only a month or two, I get irritated.

My own machine needs some maintenance. A little oil at the joints, regular movement of all the parts, a little spit and polish wouldn't hurt. Ah, the stuff of New Year's resolutions. See you soon.