Keep the heat low all morning

There are days that I question why I made the choice to do this restaurant gig, and then there are days that remind me why I did.

It came via a simple cup of soup

I was breaking down a catering for a group of teachers on Monday, and one gentleman came in the teachers lounge to see if there was anything left. I said of course, and so he took a few minutes before his next meeting to eat a bowl of our Tuscan White Bean.

As I continued my cleaning up, he began to ask about our restaurant, and especially the soup he was eating.

“Do you make this soup?” he asked.

“All from scratch.” I replied.

‘Man, this is just like my little Italian mother used to make for me. We would eat this all the time.”

“Did she drop a parmesan rind in the stock pot for extra flavor?” I chimed.

“Exactly!” he quickly added.

“Man, this soup gives me chills just thinking about those days.”

I wanted to open a restaurant that had the power to evoke that kind of emotion. I didn’t want a place that you forgot what you ate as quickly as you ate it. I wanted a place that served food that would bring together people and remind them of the good in their past, and also inspire toward something better.

Our recipes and dishes are not difficult from a standpoint of skill. But they do take time to adequately prepare, which is one reason I believe our food stands out. No one takes this kind of time anymore, and the end result shows.

I’d like to think a visit to bread&cup is both a step back, and a step forward. We want you to remember what good food tasted like from your mother or grandmother’s table, but we also want to say that our future can be crafted with values such as these. We don’t have to put up with fast, lazy food any longer.

More with malted wheat

Another easy application for malted wheat is at breakfast. Take these three grains:

½ cup malted wheat berries

½ cup pearl barley

½ cup long grain rice

Place the grains in a sauce pot with 3 cups water and a pinch of salt and bring to a boil. Once water boils, cover pot and turn heat down to low. Cook until grains absorb all the water, about 10 min. Leave the lid on during this process, as it will help keep the essential steam from escaping to quickly. When grains are cooked, add a tablespoon of butter and its ready to serve as a hot breakfast cereal.

We serve this with a shot of cream and brown sugar. But you can add your own interest to it; trail mix, dried fruit, honey, etc. While most hot breakfast cereals like oatmeal or grits tend to be mushy, this dish is chewy and full of plump grain texture.

Good food does not have to be complicated.

Malted Wheat

I’m on a malted wheat kick lately.

Malted wheat is the base grain used in making wheat beer. The malting process initiates germination in the kernel, but then is halted 24-48 hours later. This creates useable starch that can be transformed into sweet wort that yeast can then convert to alcohol.

All this potential energy is why I like using it in cooking. It is an ample substitute for rice as a side dish. I like pairing it with savory flavors that benefit from a sweet component.

The dish in the photo is a Baked Butternut Squash Bulb with Malted Wheat. I like butternut squash for its duel flesh component. I can cut the bulb end from the neck and use the two in different applications. For this, I cut the bulbs in half, scooped out the seeds, seasoned with a little salt, pepper and brown sugar, and roasted it in a high oven til tender

For the malted wheat filling, take a cup of malted wheat and hydrate it with a cup of near boiling water. I stir in herbs of sage, fennel, fresh parsley, smoked salt and black pepper. In the restaurant I cover it and place it in the holding cabinet for an hour or so, until the grain is soft enough to chew. Unlike rice, it will not absorb twice its measure in liquid, so there may be some sweet malty liquor left in the pan that can be used in flavoring for bread or other dishes.

For the sauce, scrape out one of the baked squash bulbs, which should yield about a half cup. Puree this in a blender with a tablespoon of dark molasses. Thin to a pourable consistency with a little cream.

To assemble the final presentation, drizzle a little sauce on the plate, add a scoop of seasoned malted wheat into the squash bulb and top with more of the squash/molasses puree. A bit of fresh parsley sprinkled on adds a finishing touch.

What did you do on your day off?

Monday is not really a day off for me, except that I normally don’t work in the kitchen on that day. Taking a real day off is difficult in the winter, because most of the diversions I would normally want to take occur in the warm outdoors. I’m the type that needs to move away from my normal environment to really relax. I would rather spend the cash to go to the cinema over watching TV or Hulu at home any day. It becomes more of an event that way and therefore I am less distracted.

Last Monday gave me an opportunity to witness a beef slaughter. Why, you may ask, would I choose to do this on my day off? To know me is to know that its difficult to shut my brain down, which is why watching random TV is the most boring thing I know. My nerdiness comes in the form of learning something, anything, it doesn’t matter what. When I come across a show on Discovery Channel on how something is made, its like stink bait to a catfish. I can’t resist. So when one of my local growers told me they were putting a steer down, my response was, “how do I get there?”

I describe the experience as fascinating, sobering and sacred. I will spare any photos or gory details here, but I will add that tremendous care was shown in handling the animal properly. Very clean, very orderly and the work was done swiftly. Dave was patient in fielding my many questions during the entire process.

I use the term sacred for the slaughter because that is the point the human takes ultimate dominion over the beast. He takes the life from it and this is not to be taken lightly. As a chef I am still several steps removed from this point and I wanted to see it with my own eyes. I’ve delivered live animals to the butcher as a kid growing up on the farm, and I’ve seen the carcass hanging in a cold locker, and of course have cooked and eaten my fair share of meat, but the one element I have never seen is the slaughter. I felt I needed to connect some dots.

How’s that for a day off?

86 the Pork Loin

10:17pm

You know you’ve been on your feet too long when it hurts more to sit than to keep standing. But all the planning and work paid off, with the exception of running a bit short on a few entrées. The woman that stopped by the kitchen and commented on the Chocolate Pasta made it all worth it. And when the amuse bouche gets as many compliments as anything, it’s a reminder that the attention to detail is worth it. My week is now over. Time for an Old Stock and collapse in a chair. Good night.

A pleasant surprise

12:30pm
A Valentine's Day surprise was waiting for me when I went home to shower and eat. You may have seen this before. These are the best kinds of surprises. Thanks, Karen.

Reservations are fully booked...

10:14am

About time for my break, to step away while lunch is served, then come back for the final orchestration of ingredients. Eggs are peeled, vinaigrette is made, paillards are pounded, loin is stuffed. Pasta is yet to be rolled and lasagna assembled. Sauce continues to reduce. Weeds are avoided so far. Back in a few.

Did you know we are low on...

8:30am

The message says we are out of fives, spring mix, pearl barley and there is no more thermal paper for the credit card machine. Am I that disorganized? To me its all part of what I signed on for.

Printer is out of paper...

7:15am

The morning staff is now here, which means less room to work in our tiny kitchen. The list is getting checked off. The blueberries are heated and strained, the béchamel made, squash is prepped, soup is on, tomatoes marinating, mushrooms sliced down on the mandolin, bacon is done, chx stock is reducing, pasta doughs are both resting in the fridge.

Time to deliver the cinnamon rolls, which were slow to proof today for some reason. This is another reason cooks find baking frustrating. Rising dough is feminine in gender. It is mysterious, requires love and attention, but can be oh, so, intoxicating. You can’t rush her. Patience is your virtue here.

Is the oven at the right temp? Check it again...

4:45am

What goes into getting ready for a special meal like Valentine’s Day? In addition to the regular prep that needs to be done, you start at an obscenely early time just to get it all done. While your guests are not even thinking about the meal they will eat tonight, you are. Down to the very last detail. The list is long.

Do I have to be up this early or am I some kind of masochist that needs to feel the burn of an obsessive personality disorder? Maybe, but ultimately it comes down to being at my best at this time of day, so I go with what I know.

I do it because I know people are coming to my place for an experience, and I want that experience to be the best it can be under my watch. I want the eyes of the customer to brighten when the server sets the plate down. I want to see those eyes close in satisfaction when the first bite is taken, and I want to hear that one word all chefs understand, Wow.

This is why the day starts early.

There will be about a 30 minute wait

After two punishing nights of service, of near record sales, in the midst of winter, I still rise at 5am by default. I wish I could fall back asleep like normal people, but when you own a restaurant, you have to accept the fact that your life will never be normal.

For some reason, last winter felt extremely long. I don’t recall any days like yesterday where the temperature got above freezing and certainly not high enough to remind the soul that winter is not an eternal condition. So this year, fearing a repeat of the cold and the state of the economy, I was not looking forward to this season. I found myself hitching this as additional weight to the yoke I already pull as a small business owner. I was braced for a long haul.

A few months ago as the descent into winter began I was impressed by a very particular thought. I get these from time to time, and I began to mull over the words, “Can winter be better than summer?”

I am afflicted with a brain like a grist mill. I grind through thoughts, scenarios and ideas like Nebraska grain after a fall harvest. It’s very hard to turn it off. I think it has something to do with why I don’t sleep all that well. If I wake up with a thought, it’s hard to set it aside without looking at it from all sides and the middle.

I began to pulverize this idea of winter being better than summer, and the more I minced it down, I discovered it had more to do with possibility than prediction. What do I believe is possible? Not so much what will happen, but can it?

Why should winter be better than summer? Why should I expect I will succeed when so many other businesses are in the tank? What gives me the right to believe it will be any different?

I doubt I am unique in my ability of underestimating success, but when it comes to actually envisioning what reality will look like, I probably lean toward the cautious side. I assume I do this out of fearfulness. It’s dangerous to actually want something that has the risk of defeat attached.

We ended this January with sales rivaling last June. The coldest month, without the advantage of outdoor seating has brought more and more people to our little room at the corner of 8^th & S.

I’m not sure what I think about the formulaic power of positive thinking that gets handed out in business books and seminars from time to time. There are plenty of upbeat, optimistic people that haven’t made their business work for factors other than their ability to magically manifest results out of thin air. But there is something to be said about the kind of vision you see and how you plan to see that vision become reality.

I assumed this winter would be like the last. But when confronted with the possibility that it may not be, I’m sure glad I took it seriously. Better to be ready than to be caught off guard.

Brandywine, Rutgers, and Principe Borghese

The spike in outdoor temperatures this weekend solicited fond memories and emotions that remind me that Spring will eventually return and bring with it all of its many pleasures. One of those is the promise of a new garden. Each year as the seed catalogs fill the mailbox with their colorful photos of the latest hybrids and discoveries, I always think that this is the year I will produce such results.

This is the role of Spring. It is promise. It is renewal. It signals new beginnings and new opportunities. It is the reward given in exchange for paying off the monthly installment plan called Winter. Spring, and the thought of it, feels better in climates that have a harsh season preceding it.

Back in November I made a conscious decision to not complain about the Nebraska cold this year, and I think I am reaping the benefits of that choice. Instead of putting my attention on the negative aspects of the season, I’ve tried to take a “glass half full” approach. Granted, when the mercury says minus 5, it’s hard to find something to lift the spirit, but at least I can say my truck started every time, and that I have a job indoors in front of a 500 degree bread oven.

Hope is priceless. We can’t live without it, and pity the person who has lost his bearings on it. The soul clamors for it. Our country voted for it. Like the old saying goes, Hope really does Spring Eternal.

We should always attach ourselves to Hope in every possible opportunity, and Spring is one of those Eternal conditions that makes the heart hopeful. It’s one of the reasons why I plant a garden every year, regardless of how busy I am, or how unlikely my tomatoes will look like the brilliant orbs on the seed packet. In it is the ritual of planning, preparing, and planting that lead to a reward of its own kind.

We still have February to get through, and March may still roar in like a lion, but the ground will eventually thaw, the daffodils will emerge and the little seeds you put in the damp dirt will do what Nature intended for them to do. Yes, they will germinate and burst into fruitful plants, but they also have the potential to grow into happiness.

If you let it.