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Saturday, July 07, 2001
Gabrielle Hamilton, chef-owner of Prune in New York, discusses the myths of being a chef. Not every night can be "Big Night," she says. In reality, her job is to "accept and reject plates, keep the portions consistent, taste for salt, make salads, wipe down counters, make sure the walk-in refrigerator is clean and organized, administer Band-Aids to my dishwasher, change lightbulbs, scrape dried egg yolk off the floor and, like a good sheepdog, yap at the heels of cooks who arrive late." Mythologizing the kitchen? Who, us? Thursday, July 05, 2001
I've eaten at Grace. I once received a gift of dinner at any restaurant in the city, and having just read about Ted Cizma in Food and Wine's Best New Chefs of 2000, it seemed like the perfect place. Cizma runs a classy ship. He's right-on about his staff being professional and highly skilled. Our waiter, in addition to being candid about our choices, helped us through the eccentric selection of appetizers and the extensive list of wines and ports. If Luke and I were interested in how to run a fancy place, there's a lot to learn from Grace. As much as I'd like to draw parallels between our quest and Cizma's career, he's had a few lucky breaks that we're going to have to do without. Not the least of which was growing up around a grandfather with a passion for cooking, something that put cooking in Cizma's blood. Luke and I are both developing our own passions, from scratch, and hopefully our grandkids will learn a little something from us someday. In the meanwhile, though, it's one more stumbling block we're going to have to overcome.
In Today's Tribune: "One day, I finally realized I had strayed off the path, so to speak, and I found the path to true enlightenment. I cashed in my 401k and took a job as an unpaid intern in a place called the Winnetka Grill. Eventually, I got a paying job there." Many years later, Ted Cizma is one of the top 10 chefs in America and owns two restaurants, Grace and Elaine, the second of which he expects to gross $1.5 million in its first year. In Grace's Reader rating, there is an entertaining exchange between Cizma and an unhappy customer. Among Cizma's zingers: "I can't let ignorance run rampant ... My dedicated, highly skilled, professional and highly paid staff are mostly lifelong city residents. Sorry to break the news: We are way hipper than you ... It's not our fault you chose to live in Schaumburg, or wherever ... Tea drinkers are a demographic you'd rather not have in your restaurant." Cizma has the same fastidiousness I fantasize having. I particularly like that he uses Schaumburg as a generic slur against suburbanites. This has long been my favorite thing to scream as I wag my fist at downtown tourists: "Go back to Schaumburg, you clown!" Wednesday, July 04, 2001
Monday I drove to Grandma's and back. For seven hours, my elbow hung out the window, my eyes gazed upon the horizon, and my mind pondered the La Cumbamba ad. I wrestled with a series of questions, at the fore of which was, How cool would it be to buy La Cumbamba? And my answer was, Insanely cool. But that was a gimme. The other questions were harder: What about our jobs? Where would we get the money? Could I cash out my 401(k)? What would our families think? What would our friends think? What about our total lack of experience? And I answered, respectively: What about 'em? Who knows? Retirement is for suckers! They'd invest! They'd shower us with free labor! Did Neil Armstrong have experience walking on the moon? Something tells me each of those is a wrong answer. I'll head to La Cumbamba next week to see what the story is. If this were the pilot to a restaurant sitcom, William's eyes would well up, and he would say: "I see in your face the same fire that cursed me in my youth and brought me to America. I admire your pluck and desire. Here's what I shall do: You can be my busboy. I'll most likely kill you in the morning, but if you last a year, the restaurant is yours." Sadly, this is not a sitcom, so he will probably grimace, cross his arms and say: "You silly man. This restaurant has been my life. My blood and tears have gone into every dish -- I'm speaking figuratively, of course -- and you think I'd give it all up for nothing? You insult me with your tales of trivia contests and doggy bags. Out with you, now! I may serve swine, but I refuse to serve such a pig as you." Truth is, we are far from ready, even if by some miracle we raised the money. But that hasn't stopped me from planning a beer list, our dessert menu and a new facade. And I've decided that, whether we buy La Cumbamba or not, we should hang a portrait of William in our waiting area. Without his dream, we would have none of our own. Tuesday, July 03, 2001
Of the two restaurants that inspired Luke to start this thing, The Dellwood Pickle has closed, and La Cumbamba is apparently up for sale. It's a harsh lesson in the reality of how fleeting success can be in the restaurant biz. Especially for the places that really get it.
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