The Sustained Chef

New Blog Site

2012-01-16T06:26:00.000-08:00

Here's a link to my new website and blog:

breadandcup

the sustained chef

24 Albums To Set The Mood

2012-01-07T14:57:00.000-08:00

Music is an important part of creating an environment of hospitality. Just as the food and service must be consistent in quality, it’s my personal opinion that the music heard in a restaurant needs to have a consistent genre or vibe to it. What you hear develops expectation, however subtle or subconscious it may be.

We often get the question, “who’s that playing right now?” So I decided to list 24 of my favorite artists/discs that set the mood for the bread&cup experience. Most are available on iTunes, Amazon or the service I primarily use, eMusic. I have listed the genre, a brief description and a one song definition that you should sample to get a good idea of the artist in one shot.

I confess that I lean toward the hipster on this list, as I take pride in finding stuff you’ve never heard of.

1. Kind of Blue – Miles Davis

-Jazz

-The record that changed music.

-One song definition: So what

2. Gotan Project – La Revancha del Tango

-Modern Tango

-Approach with caution, as this could be also termed as baby-making music. Sultry and sexy, this group creates an amazing sound

-One song definition: Queremos Paz

3. Jeff Oster – Surrender

-Contemporary Jazz

-Oster’s flugelhorn can fill a deep canyon. A smooth jazz-esque feel without the metronomic rhythm tracks

-One song definition: Voce Quer Dancar

4. Ahn Trio – Lullaby for My Favorite Insomniac

-Modern Classical

-A simple trio of violin, piano and cello

-One song definition: Solitary Singer

5. St Germain – Tourist

-House

-A good example of what house music can be; compulsive grooves layered with smart horn lines and improve styles.

-One song definition: Rouge Rouge

6. The Blue Nile – High

-Electronic downtempo

- Cold, snowy or rainy day musicSome days your music needs to match the weather. There is nothing sunny and mild about this group.

-One song definition: High

7. Cinematic Orchestra – Ma Fleur

-Ambient soundscape

-My repeated go-to for late night chillout and introspection.

-One song definition: Familiar Ground

8. Jem – Down To Earth

-International pop,

-The rhythms span from mideastern to samba, Her voice just grabs me.

-One song definition: Down to Earth

9. CeU – CeU

-Brazilian pop

-I got on this international female vocal trend this year and found this Brazilian singer.

-One song definition: Roda

10. Sphere – Closer

-International pop

-Another one on the international list.

-One song definition: Sunbather

11. Ana Lann – Chocolate and Roses

-Spanish pop

-Born in Madrid, sings both in Spanish and English

-One song definition: Me Echaras De Menos

12. Sise – Si-se

-Latin chilled out pop

-Fun, light, and pleasant

-One song definition: Rain

13. Zaz – Zaz

-French vocal pop.

-Her way with words makes me wish I could speak French

-One song definition: Je Veux

14. Goat Rodeo Sessions - Stuart Duncan; Chris Thile; Edgar Meyer; Yo-Yo Ma

-An unusual blend of classical, bluegrass and Celtic styles

-I put this one on in the morning

-One song definition: Attaboy

15. Chris Standring – Blue Bolero

-Contemprary Jazz

-Another in the smooth jazz line, but Standring adds a dynamic element to the genre that creates interest in the song.

-One song definition: Blue Bolero

16. Andy McKee – Art of Motion

-Instrumental acoustic guitar.

-McKee is an internet phenom, and when you see his YouTube videos of how he plays, you will understand how he makes so much sound for one guy on a a guitar.

-One song definition: Art of Motion

17. New Tango Duo & Walter Castrom - Bajo Cero

-Modern Tango

-They performed at the Lied Center last year, but I couldn’t attend. A musical regret.

-One song definition: Bajo Cero

18. John Coltrane – Ballads

19. Karrin Allison – Ballads

-Jazz instrumental and vocal

-18 and 19 go together. Coltrane recorded an instrumental only version of vocal standards in 1962. Allyson came along in 2000 and released a vocal version of the set list. Play it song for song in a playlist.

One song definition: Say it Over and Over Again

20. Washed Out – Within and Without

-Termed chillwave

-A modern sound with a laid back sensibility.

-One Song Definition: Far Away

21. Tin Hat Trio – Book of Silk

-Acoustic chamber music

-Moody and dark.

-One song definition: Empire of Light

22. Jai Jutal – Dial M for Mantra

-International downtempo, w/ eastern Indian influence

-Not sure the language being sung, but the groove translates easily

-One song definition: Ganesha Windmix

23. The Jazz Code – Various Artists

-Contemporary Jazz

-My music subscription to eMusic had a myriad of these types of compilations. This is only one of my many favorite compilations. You get a lot of music for the price and it’s a great way to build your library.

-One song definition: The Man with the Hat

24. Modern Jazz Café – Various Artists

-NU Jazz, Trip Hop, contemporary jazz

-At least ten volumes of various artists with 20 tracks, so you get your money’s worth

-One song definition: Your pick

The Constant Work of Assembling a Team

2011-12-23T06:35:00.000-08:00

Dear Entrepreneur,

There is an old proverb that says "Where there are no oxen, the barn is clean, but much increase comes through the strength of the ox." I take this to mean, if you don't want a mess, don't have any animals in the barn. But if you want to get work done, you can't have one without the other.

You can't grow your business without doing the work of finding, adding and nurturing good people. It is and always will be your most difficult challenge in building your business. And yet it will provide you with some of your deepest rewards.

We said goodbye to Ricky last night, one of my evening cooks that is moving off to New York to attend culinary school. It’s a bittersweet departure, as he carried quite a bit of responsibility for me, but his future looks so bright, a guy like him will certainly need shades. He came to our kitchen completely green, like me, with no experience. But his drive and desire caused me to steadily increase his duties, and I had no problem doing so.

In the professional kitchen, I’ve come to accept the revolving door. I embrace that talent needs to come and go. Instead of grumbling about it, I choose to cooperate with it. I’m learning to see it through the eyes of abundance. Anytime someone leaves, instead of leaving a hole, I see it as opening up a chance to develop someone new and allow that person to step in and step up.

I like to tell my employees, “make it hard for me to replace you.” In other words, do your job well, so that when you leave, you’ve raised the bar for the next person behind you.

Hiring is always a challenge because of the risk involved. It takes a lot of time to seek out, to interview and to train new personnel and you want to minimize the chance of it being a waste of time and having to start the process all over again. Here are a few things I implement in when adding new staff.

1. Take your time. A wise businessman gave me this bit of sage advice years ago; hire slow and fire fast. In his experience it is better to take your time on the front end making a hiring decision than to rush into it without fully thinking through what you need. But once you see that an employee is not a fit in your organization, it’s no help to anyone, for you, your staff or the employee, to drag out the departure.

2. Know what kind of person are you looking for. Every position you need to fill has its own unique requirements. Make sure you have a good idea of what qualifications you need. This is why I am willing to take a risk with people that lack experience. Most of my current positions don’t demand it. I am present in my kitchen and am able to train and allow the development of skills. If I was assembling a team for an entirely new restaurant, the need for proven track record would be much different.

3. Listen to your existing staff. Good chemistry among your employees is essential and you want to assemble a team that enjoys working with each other. Sometimes there is no way of knowing if people will get along until they are thrown into the mix. But there is a little homework you can do before the decision is made. Try asking your staff for recommendations of candidates for an opening. If they enjoy their job, they will more likely suggest people they know and want to work with. Some of our best people joined our team in this way.

We are hired for what we know, but we are fired for who we are. Don’t rely solely on a resume that looks impressive. Do what you can to discern character, because good character always trumps experience.

2011 New Year's Eve Dinner

2011-12-19T04:37:00.000-08:00

Here is our prix fixe menu for New Year’s Eve. This year we are offering a chef’s wine pairing with each item of each course. I always get excited when I look over a finalized menu. It’s as if I have been cooking mentally for days and am ready for you to enjoy it right now. But we’ve got to wait a few weeks.

This event filled up quickly last year, so I encourage you to make plans soon. We’ll set the table; you

New Year’s Eve

6PM and 8:30PM
40 dollars per person - 60 dollars w/ chef’s wine pairing
by reservation only
Call 402-438-2255

First
Spinach & Arugula Salad
-grana padano, dried cranberries, almonds, maple bacon vinaigrette
2007 Wolf Gewürztraminer Germany

Roasted Tomato & Corn Soup
-sourdough crostini, cilantro oil
2009 Abraxas White Blend California

Entrees
Plum Creek Farm Chicken in Lemongrass Curry
-butternut squash, wild rice, micro arugula
2010 Poet’s Leap Riesling Colombia Valley, Washington

Braised Beef Short Ribs
-Mushrooms, Roasted New Potatoes, Green Beans, Crispy Shallot
2009 The Prisoner Napa, California

Hickory Smoked Berkshire Pork Loin
-risotto, snow peas, black garlic
2007 Baileyana Pinot Noir Edna Valley, CA

Goat Cheese Tortellini
-dried tomato, pine nuts, scallions, shallot, garlic cream
2010 Docil Vinho Verde Portugal

Finish
Salted Caramel Toffee Custard
2005 Romieu-Lacoste Sauternes France

Dark Chocolate Ice Cream w/ Almond Tuile Cone
Norval Black ruby port / Rochefort 10

No Trespassing

2011-12-07T06:22:00.000-08:00

Every industry encounters trends and changes that require understanding and thus, adaptation in order to stay current and relevant to its market. Awareness of technology, customer attitude, and economic health are three factors to which I pay close attention as I seek to grow and sustain my business over the long term.

My industry certainly has its ups and down, but one thing that settles me and makes me glad is that at least you aren’t able to download a meal, nor does it appear that you will be anytime soon. The need for food is still a fundamental human requirement and there is no substitute for drawing together around a table to share conversation over simple food and drink.

It struck me the other day at how much change our current society must undergo just to stay conversant in the modern language of business and social interaction. The amount of irrelevant tasks and knowledge you and I have discarded would not be comprehended by a person living a hundred years ago.

I’m not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing, or if it’s just a thing, because I don’t imagine it will slow down anytime soon. But this constant reinvention of how I will carry out my daily life seems on the one hand unsustainable, and quite possibly, unfruitful. Consider these introductions and retirements of the recent past:

Landline/cell phone/smart phone – I remember getting my first cell phone about 13 years ago. It was huge, but novel at the time. It took me forever to master T9, and now that skill is irrelevant. When it dawned on us that every person in our household had a phone, we finally cancelled our landline service. We don’t even miss it or ever find ourselves needing it.

Facebook/Twitter – These are such recent phenomenons that even my tech savvy kids can tell me about the lame olden days before Facebook. The most common question I hear from people who don’t have an account with these two services is “Do I really need it?” I’ll address that below.

Online commerce – I seldom write checks anymore, nor send any kind of bill payment in the mail. It’s all done online. I make purchases weekly for supplies for my kitchen, for spice orders, for equipment parts, etc.

Texting – Are you like me and find yourself texting someone first to see if you can call them? Texting has changed the simple practice of talking on the phone.

Change is something every generation must address, Folks had to adapt to the motorcar when they probably thought the horse and buggy worked just fine. It just so happens that our generation is facing an overabundance of these same kinds of demands. The general rule I keep in mind is this: will I let these rule me or will I allow them to serve me?

I regularly take inventory here in this last month of the year as I look back over the goals I set for myself and my business. I see what I accomplished and what didn’t get done. And this year I include in this account an assessment of the invasiveness of technology. Where do I need to cordon off a boundary so that technology doesn’t creep past, like varmints into the henhouse? Here are a few technological boundaries I have set:

1. I refuse to do email on my phone. It does not need to have that kind of access to my immediate attention. The phone keeps me in contact, esp. in emergencies, like yesterday morning when my daughter called and said she was stuck on the ice. In this way, the phone serves me, not vice versa

2. Facebook – Do you need one or not? Again, ask the question, “Does it serve you, or are you its slave?” Karen had an account for a short time but eventually felt an obligation to it. When I reminded her it was OK to cancel it, and that life would return to normal, she was amazed at how quickly a person can get drawn into something so trivial.

3. Creating quiet space. How instinctive has it become to get in the car and turn on the radio out of habit rather than wanting to listen to a particular program or music? Or to turn on the TV or CD player at home to fill the silence? I am seeking more quiet space. I enjoy writing when it’s quiet. In this way, I can hear more.

Saying Yes When Everyone Else Says No

2011-12-01T09:36:00.000-08:00

I recently had the opportunity to speak at the TEDxLincoln event, telling a bit of the story of how bread&cup came into existence. The link to the presentation on YouTube is below.

http://youtu.be/S3P9R0MgVjA

The Art of Eating and Feeding

2011-11-27T09:58:00.001-08:00

“Did you have to cook on Thanksgiving?”

My response to that question is to downplay the “have to” part and replace it with a “get to” part.

For me as a chef, there is a wide, blurry line between work and play. To understand this division concerning vocation and lifestyle, you only need to look at the books on my nightstand. Interspersed in the stack of well intentioned but unread novels and nonfiction are the most frequently perused cookbooks and food magazines. I’m sure some psychologist would attest that this is probably not healthy and would press for a more balanced focus on other interests and diversions, but truth be known, that’s just likely not in the DNA of one who loves to cook for a living.

I think this imbalance stems from the fact that the preparation of food and eating it is not first and foremost a vocation. For a person to know how to feed himself is a basic human impulse, and is something a child figures out very quickly when he learns how to pick up the Cheerios between two fingers and put them into his mouth. This child discovers the pleasure of such action and does not forget it. The act of eating is now established and can continue on for a lifetime.

But in the same way, the act of feeding others is similarly fundamental. Parents of young, finicky children recall the satisfaction of finally “getting that kid to eat.” When our children first showed signs of food aversion, we felt like failures as parents. We couldn’t succeed at something as basic as providing food that our child liked. What was wrong with us?

Nothing was wrong. We only had to learn how to feed them.

Eating and feeding. Simple, human actions with lifelong lessons attached.

In the beginning, we learn to eat simple, bland food. As we grow, we learn to eat more broadly. Eventually as we mature, we hear the call to learn how to eat healthier. In our latter years, as metabolism changes, we learn to eat less. Eating is an education and a wonderful one at that.

As a chef, I feed others with the same progression. I embrace that there are times in life that call for simple, mild sustenance, and at others, an elaborate feast. The occasional cheeseburger can be balanced with regular placement of greens and vegetables. In the practice of moderation and variety, I don’t deny anyone the right to indulge, especially myself. I can’t eat fried turkey and smoked ribs every day like I did on Thanksgiving Day, but I can do it once or twice a year. I learn how to feed others by what I am learning about feeding myself.

I love to cook and I love to eat, and hopefully I am daily getting better at both. My goal is to provide food that ultimately brings satisfaction, not just immediate relief.

The Ebb and Flow of Local

2011-10-24T16:15:00.000-07:00

As the season shifts into low gear preparing for the long uphill drive through the cold-weather months here on the plains, our kitchen is in the process of change as well. Grieving the loss of an abundant, local vegetable supply, we turn our focus toward meats and proteins, and squeezing out every last drop of usefulness from late harvest tomatoes, pumpkins, butternut squash and a few things we have dehydrated, canned or put by in the freezer. There is a sadness to the turn, but it gives way to other benefits and blessings that otherwise would not be enjoyed if we maintained the more rapid pace of life during the warmer days.

If you asked ten chefs about his or her philosophy about buying and sourcing food locally, you would probably get ten different points of view. Likely you’ll find a little overlap on the Venn diagram, but opinions would vary from a commitment to using 100% of products sourced within an hour distance away, to the other extreme of only trying to catch and ride the wave of a trend that may or may not be here in 10 years. I don’t hold to a right or wrong position on the matter. I subscribe to a belief that free choices should lead to just that: freedom. Being free to choose what and how you eat hopefully will lead to the ability to enjoy that freedom even further. Eating should enhance the quality of our life, not diminish it.

It would be impossible to obtain all my food from local sources here in Nebraska. Our weather does not allow it, but even if it did, I would still run into the problem of supply. The greater the demand affects how much is available. Finding sources that will be capable of getting the adequate amount of product I need for my customers will most likely always be a challenge.

So I take the approach of developing what some call “local habit.” This means I have as a regular practice, the decision to buy locally when I can. If given the option of buying salad greens from a local grower or from a regional supplier, I will go with the local. I have the habit of buying pork and beef from guys who raise hogs and cattle in Elk Creek and David City. If they are out, I have to find another source that I trust. I have to be flexible with my philosophy if it is to be sustainable. If I held the position that I only served local, period, there would be many days I couldn’t sell a half the items on my menu. The more rigid my posture becomes, the more likely it is to snap. Trees survive the wind because they can move along with the currents.

But at the same time, sustainability also requires staying rooted. The tree can bend and sway because it goes down deep, keeping anchored and strong. Making local habit is a decision to which I can stay grounded in philosophy and ideal, and at the same time, gives me great pleasure in doing so.

What I wish I knew

2011-10-03T06:15:00.000-07:00

As an entrepreneur, I often find myself needing to make decisions that I have never made before. Personal experience is a great teacher, but sometimes comes with a price tag. To learn from your own mistakes can cost time, money and headache. Seeking out advice from others who have been down the road you are on is useful, but finding those who can answer your questions can become a challenge in itself.

Today I share some random lessons I've learned about opening and running a restaurant.

New or Used Equipment? I outfitted my place with mostly used appliances. eBay was a great source for finding exactly what I needed. I found a seller in Kansas City that specialzed in restaurant liquidation, and he had new pieces listed every month. We struck a deal where he would store the items I purchased from him over a 6 month period, then I drove down with a truck and picked them all up at once. I saved thousands this way. From another seller in SD I found a curved glass deli case for $200, but again, had to travel to pick it up, but the cost savings was worth it. The downside? It takes a lot of time to track down particular pieces of equipment.

To Buy or Lease Equipment? When making this decision, you roll the dice on the durability of a new unit to save you on repair bills at the onset. With this in mind, I bought my bread oven and dishwasher new, thinking I did not want these two items to break down any time soon. I love the oven and hate the dishwasher. I probably have the repair guy look at the dishwasher every three months. When I decided to get rid of my small icemaker, I chose to lease a larger unit. The peace of mind that comes from calling the leasing agent to fix it is part of the price tag that makes it worth it for me.

Hire a Service or Do It Yourself? If you find yourself handy like me, you may feel the need to work on things yourself. Sweat equity goes a long way in starting up a business, and in some ways, it can be fun and rewarding knowing you did it yourself. I saved myself a bunch on the new west wall bench by building it myself. It took me much longer than a carpenter, but the job got done at a fraction of the cost.

But there does come a time when you just need to call a person to take care of it. At some point, your time becomes more valuable than the cost of the service. As an entrepreneur, you will have to determine when to make that call, since you are accustomed to shaving down costs whenever possible. If fixing things takes you away from the tasks that only you can do for the business, then hiring it done becomes essential. I struggled with this one until the day I came in and was handed a list of things that needed fixed; sink drain leaking, restroom door lock won't work, etc, etc. All of it was stuff I am perfectly capable of doing, but which would take my focus away from more important matters. My response: Can you just call someone, please?

What to buy? There are countless decisions you have to make in stocking a kitchen, from plates to glassware, flatware, and smallwares. Containers, cups, pots and pans. Some of this you learn the hard way by trying to save a buck and getting less expensive items. Here are a few of my recommendations that I wish I knew before purchasing. These are my opinions from my personal experience only. I don't get paid to endorse any of these.

Plates. Your choices run the gamut here, but for about 6 bucks a plate, the Everyday White collection at Bed, Bath and Beyond has been our choice from day one. We like the square shape and they have held up over the constant daily use. There are comparable plates rated at commercial grade, but the cost can be double or triple.

Kitchenaid. When I first started, I bought their ProLine Mixer and Food Processor. When both failed in the first month of use, I called their service department only to find out that Pro did not mean Pro, that it was only a consumer grade product. I have a KA mixer at home and find that it works fine for periodic use, but not designed to take daily demands of a commercial kitchen. Go ahead and spend the extra dollars for a Robot Coupe or Hobart stand mixer. I can mix concrete in those two if in a pinch.

Riedel Stemware. When the rep gave me the pitch on Riedel and all the research that went into the design, I admit I thought it was a little over the top. But after using these glasses for four years now, I am hooked. The shape of the bowl and the thinness of the rim both lead to greater enjoyment of the wine.
I can find cheaper stemware, but I'll look for other places to trim costs.

I'll add to this list in the future. If you are looking to open a restaurant, I'd love to dialogue with you and share more lessons. If my experience can save you a few headaches, it would make it worth it. You can contact me via this blog.

Good Luck.

My Celebriti-festo

2011-09-23T07:15:00.000-07:00

Alton Brown’s recent blogpost titled, My Fan-ifesto, instructing the public on how he is to be treated as a celebrity has really stuck in my craw. (I recommend reading it first, as this post may not make sense without standing in context) In response, I felt I should also write My Celebriti-festo for my own sake as a reminder of what our celebrity-obsessed culture has created.

Dear Celebrity,

You are a product, not a person. This is how you are seen in the eyes of the average viewer, reader, or wannabe. You are only an image on a screen. Sure, you may put your proverbial pants on one leg at a time, but you have been relegated to being just another one of millions of items being pushed on us as consumers every single day. This is why when you are seen in person, you are still not a person. You are a highly advertised product, and like all products consumed by our mass-media culture, you will wear thin in our eyes, and you will wear out in our use. We will tire of you just like we tired of our pet rocks and our Razor flip phones.

So, celebrity, when you are at a book signing, or on the red carpet or seen at a local Starbucks, and some fawning woman wants your picture, that’s all you are. You are a picture, which again, is only an image. If you could ask that fan to sit down and share coffee with you, my guess is that it would be a terribly awkward conversation, because she doesn’t know you, nor may I add, does she really care to know you. She wants the picture, because she can carry the picture around and show you off to her friends. She can’t take you, so she takes your image. Please remember this when fans treat you like a thing and not a human.

If your life as a celebrity sucks, change careers. This is what regular people do when they get sick of their life, or tire of the situation in which they find themselves. A few years into my mid-life crisis, I realized I could either whine and stay put, or get off my butt and do something about it. So in a fit of brilliance or insanity, I’m not really sure, I pulled a 180 and I became a chef. I still have an equal amount of things to bitch about in my new found profession, but I am willing to take the bad with the good, because the good far outweighs the bad.

Customers are the reason I am in business. Without customers, I have no revenue, regardless of how great my food looks and tastes. From time to time, we do see the hard-to-please guest, but I won’t make these folk the focus of my attention. I have far more great customers than I do bad ones and the former are the ones I try hardest to please.

But when the day comes that I can’t handle the people who complain just to get a comped meal, or who feel the need to steal my French Press carafes, or just want to take up a large table at lunch just to use the Internet, then it’s time that I get into another line of work. Putting up an awkward list of rules in my restaurant for these very few will only serve to make me look like a crotchety old man, not a person of genuine hospitality.

Go back to the little room. Jack White wrote a little :50 second song titled Little Room, that serves as a reminder to always remember what it is that made you famous:

Well you're in your little room
And you're working on something good
But if it's really good
You're gonna need a bigger room
And when you're in the bigger room
You might not know what to do
You might have to think of
How you got started in your little room
©White Stripes

Celebrity should always be a by-product of genuine, creative effort that flows from an internal, personal, soul-level source, not from external reward. For example, take the musicians who work hard, get noticed, become rock stars and begin enjoying the raving attention when their song is number one.

At some point, the musician must confront the question, “Do I love making music or do I crave the attention music brings me?” When they go from playing packed arenas to open air pavilions at State Fairs, it’s the love of making music that will carry them forward.

I wonder this about my industry and the rise of the celebrity chef. Are young people seduced by the attention of being Top Chef or the Next Iron Chef, or do they really just simply love to cook and enjoy the pleasure that brings in and of itself. It’s my belief that without this foundation, becoming a celebrity is a dangerous development.

Fame is fickle and fleeting, but at the same time, very seductive. If your success is written in the form of vast public appearances and gaining 400K Twitter followers, you may need to rethink your definition.

And that about wraps it up. So, dear celebrity, I hope this helps interpret for you how ordinary people view you and your position and status. We all have bad days and must deal with annoying people. Just don’t become one as a result of dealing with one.

Can you feel the changes coming...

2011-09-22T06:38:00.000-07:00

This line from the old Cat Stevens song that has come up on the shuffle is fitting for today. While we are fortunate to experience the change of four seasons in Nebraska, the one that always feels the most significant to me is fall. This year, it came all at once, in one day, two weeks ago, when the temperature shifted about 20 degrees and has stayed mild since.

This season change is such a beautful time of year. The contrasts are starker, the colors more vivid. The leaves, the pumpkins, the jars of red tomatoes are all signals that nature is ready for her rest and slumber, but will not retire without a display of brilliance one last time.

I used to complain about the fall, not because I didn't like it, but because of what was soon to follow; yes, winter. But in taking a lesson from Mother Nature, without a season of dormancy, she would not get her rest either. This year, I am taking a different approach.

Mother Nature does not need to be taught about sustainability. She sustains herself quite fine without our help. In her modesty, she knows how to clothe herself when a patch of her ground becomes bare. We call them weeds; she treats them as organic textiles, shading herself from the sun, preventing erosion and offering patterns and color so unique, we forget its brilliance. Even King Solomon himself was not dressed in such splendor.

For me personally, the change of season means a time to reel in, slow down and recover from a long market season. Gone will be the Market Meals, The Sunday Brunch and the intensity of attention that those require every week. Soon our outdoor patio will be closed off due to colder temperatures. These are elements of the season I love and will certainly miss, but they give way to a new kind of enjoyment.

The change of the season brings more rest, more reflection and more slow cooking. I can almost smell the warmth of our Steak & Ale Pie simmering on the back of the stove. Our French Onion soup, such a simple, humble dish of onions and water, requires hours of low heat, but is not without its reward for such patience. The Smoked Meatloaf will be back, with its aroma of smoldering hickory embedded within.
Soon we will go back to two daily, scratch made soups. (Is there a more comforting winter meal than soup and bread?) These are only a few of the items that will show up again with the change of the season.

Did I mention the Jerk Pork and the Pastrami Sammich? Yea, those too.

Yes, I feel the changes coming, and I like what I see. If you feel the blues coming on, make a stop in sometime for our new menu items. They don't call it comfort food for nothing.

A wahn..anna..two..anna..three...

2011-09-16T20:16:00.000-07:00

I used to think my parents were crazy, but what teenager doesn't? One reason I thought this was because, as a regular practice on Sunday nights Mom and Dad would fix up a batch of chicken livers, hearts and gizzards for dinner. It was the only time we were allowed to eat in front of the TV, because thats when Lawrence Welk was on. Though I did not partake, the smell of the bacon wrapped inner parts was pretty good. I just could not bring myself to eat it. Why in the world did they like that stuff? Gross!

How things change.

On my menu is chicken liver pate. As most things I serve, its a rather simple preparation with a highly rewarding outcome. Dean from Plum Creek Farm brings me a bag of livers every other week, and if I wanted them any fresher, I'd have to kill the birds myself.

I start by sweating shallot and garlic in clarified butter, smoked clarified butter to be precise. Any time I fire up the smoker, I utilize every space possible. I fill a foil pan with five pounds of butter and let it absorb the smoke for about an hour. By this time it has melted and separated, and is ready to clarify. What's left is the richest, smoky, decadent ingredient I have in my kitchen. I cap my rillettes with it. I saute tomatoes for a Smoked Tomato Gnocchi, and I put it in my chicken liver pate. This is my dirty little secret.

The next step is to simmer the livers in the shallot/garlic mix, add a little white wine, a little chicken stock, some fresh rosemary, thyme and cracked black pepper and let all those flavors absorb into the liver. This takes around 20-25 min. Thats it. Some recipes soften the liver with cream cheese, but I like the stronger flavor the livers give without it.

Thanks to Ruhlman, I discover that its important to let the livers cool before pureeing, as it leads to better texture and emulsion. A quick pulse in the food processor, pouring in a drizzle of smoked butter.

To serve, we put three quenelles of pate on toast with freeze dried corn (I get from my friends at Savory Spice Shop in Denver) and maple syrup. The corn gives some crunch and the maple cooperates with the richness of the liver.

Why go through all the trouble

2011-09-08T05:19:00.000-07:00

I don't know if its just me, but canning seems to be experiencing a revival of sorts. Maybe its strategic placement, but the bookstore I frequent has made several publications available on the craft. I see boxes of jars at the hardware store and at the supermarket. My Farmers Market has its own canning guide and distributes it to the public.

Back in the day, canning food is how a family survived. They grew their own garden and they put by its bounty for consumption until next year. It was hard work, but essential if they expected to have anything to eat. This is obviously not the case now. Cheap sources of food are ubiquitous. The quality pales in comparison, but thats for another post.

For me, there is a reward to canning food that goes beyond economics. It falls under the main category of anything I attempt to accomplish: Do I enjoy it? If the answer is yes, and if I can make the time, I will.

In my restaurant last week, we processed around 175lbs of fresh, locally grown tomatoes. Some became sauce, some for juice, some went into the dehydrator and the rest into canning jars. It was a lot of work coring, peeling skins and deseeding, but it was pleasurable work standing around the center work island, with casual conversation ensuing.

There is one aspect of the canning process that would go overlooked by everyone other than me. Its a tiny instance that happens sometime during the cooling process.

Its the ping.

Years ago, when I was a little boy watching mom can the homemade ketchup she and dad loved to make, I would wait to hear the sound the made by the lid as the vacuum seal became secure. It would let out a little ping, and I would tell mom that another one was ready. Afterward, it was my job to press on all the jar lids to see if they sealed properly. If it clicked, then we would use that one right away, and put the others on the shelf for later.

When my jars make the same ping, I am taken back to that simpler day. I smile, and remember the aroma of cloves and spice that filled our little country house from the simmering batch of ketchup. Some things you just can't put a price tag on.

Making Hay While the Sun Shines

2011-09-05T07:18:00.000-07:00

My rural Oklahoma roots remind me of a saying that was oft used in the late days of summer; "make hay while the sun shines." The wisdom behind this implies that you take advantage of opportunities when you have them, because when the time passes, you won't have that chance again.

It is this code that serves as the reason for serving brunch in September. The gentler temperatures and vivid colors will morph into a season of cold and grey before we know it. Then we'll be shoveling snow and tweeting complaints about how long our winters are in Nebraska.

Attached are some photos, courtesy of Kris Reiswig, from the first week. Only three more Sundays, so make plans now to join us.

We'll set the table; you bring the conversation

Heirloom Tomatoes from Harvest Home, Waverly, NE

Handmade biscuits for our Three Pork Gravy

Bone-in Berkshire Pork Chop and Eggs

Sweet Caramelized Onion Tart

Eggs Benedict w/ Smoked Hollandaise

Maple Fritters

Angel Food Cake w/ Blackberry Glaze

Garden Quiche w/ Basil Pesto

The Gravity of a Restaurant

2011-08-28T06:36:00.000-07:00

Every job has its distinct challenges, its upsides and downsides, the good days and bad ones. And when you're self employed, its no different. I'm discovering that its a matter of how I manage those times when they do come, instead of trying to naively assume I can somehow avoid them altogether.

There is a constant force in my restaurant, I just simply refer to it as gravity, that always wants to pull the operation downward. It goes with the territory, yet its taken me this long to recognize that this force is both unavoidable and at the same time, quite useful. Without it, there would be nothing to keep us from drifting away from the main reason we are in business.

On any given Saturday, we have several components in orbit, all of which require preparation, execution, and oversight so that it won't come crashing down in catastrophe.

It all starts with the baker, who makes the bread we will sell all day long. We send that rocket up and get the production started early in the morning, and as long as it stays in orbit, we will have bread to sell the rest of the day.

Then we fire off the Farmer's Market crew and get them in their space, with the cinnamon rolls that the baker made, and all the tent, tables, change, and gear they need to carry on business for the morning.

Next off the launch pad is breakfast, and all that it entails. Right behind it comes the catering order, and setting the table for the bridal brunch that arrives at 11. Once we have acertained that everything is smoothly in orbit, preparation for the Market Menu is ready for liftoff.

With this much activity, there's a lot to go wrong. And because we are dynamic human beings that stayed out too late, or is mad at the roommate, or had our car towed last night; in some way, shape or form, it eventually will.

It does. And it did. And I should not be surprised.

I should not be surprised when the printer on the POS won't work, which is connected to the cash drawer, causing it to not open, which means the bartender can't make transactions for the 10 people in line, which means I need to open the next register to keep the flow going, but since it hadn't been counted down properly, it will need to be reconciled some time later, which will screw up the accounting on the reconciliation sheet, of which I am terrible at and will have to pass it off to someone else to clear up what I cant fix and has more questions than I have answers and...

I call it Gravity. It wants to pull your work to the ground.

And it's always going to be there.

It does get wearisome when it feels like all you hear is, "the sink is leaking," or "the fryer won't turn on," and "there is a huge leak in the women's restroom." But these are just the facts, and I've spent too much energy asking why they happen rather than accepting it as the natural gravity of business.

But without gravity, we would not have flight. Its amazing to think that the plane I see flying overhead this morning has an incredible amount of force working against it. And if the pilots and engineers have done their job, the passengers will never give it any thought. The same laws that would cause it to fail are the very same ones that allow it to soar and get everyone to their destination.

The effort required to extend hospitality is great and constant, but when well executed, despite adversity and mishap, it makes the outcome that much more fulfilling,

Now whoever thought of doing that?

2011-08-15T21:10:00.000-07:00

My learning curve as a chef is never ending. That's one of the things I enjoy about the craft of cooking. There are always new techniques or methods to discover, many of which are not really new, but actually quite old. Gels, foams, and liquid nitrogen have their place, I'm sure, but not before I have a better foundation concerning the enduring methods cooks have used over the years.

Take the pigs head, for example. Humans have utilized the hog for centuries, and when faced with the question of how to tackle the head, I would have liked to hear those early conversations.

"You gonna eat all that?"

"No, I'm allergic to occular fat..."

"Ooo, I'll have yours. I love it!"

Regardless, somebody figured out how to eat the thing, and I joined in suit and served one up on a platter to my man Johnny for his 26th birthday. Here he is, in hog heaven, ready to devour half a braised head all to himself.

So its not hard to see how someone figured out that you could just cook the thing and pull the meat off like any other bone. Ribs have bones and meat, Chicken legs have bones and meat. You see the progression. The skull has bones and meat, so why not?

But like the modern gastronomists of today, who are probably nothing more than bored cooks who need something new to try, so was the restless young butcher who decided to no longer simply boil the head. He would make head cheese!

The process is not difficult, but it is time consuming. It helps to brine the beast's noggin first. Using a curing salt gives it a pinkish color, much like making corned beef or pastrami, and it imparts a salty flavor as well.

Not sure what the original called for, but I brined mine for about 5 days to get it fully saturated and seasoned. After a rinse out of the brine, its ready for a slow simmer for a couple of hours with additional seasoning of mirepoix, bay leaf and black peppercorns. Once the meat breaks down and becomes tender, its ready to remove and let cool.

At this point the meat pulls easy from the bone. There is a surprising amount of meat surrounding the jaw, under the eye and ear, and the tongue. Remember, nothing went to waste back in the olden days.

Once the meat is harvested, it can be cut into cubes and placed into the molding vessel. I used a couple of 1/6 pans. Anything can do unless you want to be historic and all proper about it. Then you can spend top dollar on a vintage terrine mold on eBay and be authentic.

Now comes the tricky part; reducing the stock down into to the equivalent of porcine Jello. It helps to clarify the stock by removing the fat. This can be done by letting it cool down and peeling the fat cap of the top. Or you can do what I do and pour the stock in a ziplock bag, let it settle for a minute or two while the fat rises to the top. Then hold the bag by the top edge, and snip the bottom corner and let the stock drain into a clean container. You will notice the fat remains on the top of the liquid, and as soon as it gets near the bottom, move the bag away and you are left with a defatted stock. There should be enough collagen in the stock that, once it is reduced down to about a quart, it will congeal when it cools. I have to admit that its hard to make the word congeal sound appetizing, but you have to take my word for it and trust me here.

Here's the pig gelatin settling in the mold, ready to be chilled and eventually served.

And here you have the final product, head cheese. I can't imagine that it will make it on the menu anytime soon, but if you want to try it this week, let me know and I'll give you a sample to try.

Knowing What Business You Are In

2011-08-10T21:52:00.000-07:00

This young man proposing to his now fiance serves as a strong reminder that I am not in the food business, but in the hospitality business.

A couple of weeks ago, Tanner emailed me a request. It was cushioned by apologies and disclaimers, but his motive eventually became apparent. He was ready to ask his lady to be his bride and he wanted to do it at my restaurant, the place they had their first date.

After that, who would not say yes to whatever he had up his sleeve?

To make a long story short, Tanner wanted to set up a scene with that included his girlfriend, their friends and family and have a meal that celebrated the occassion, and he asked if I would put together the food to commenorate it.

Yes, yes and yes.

Years ago I read an article that explained the decline of the railroad industry after the turn of the century. It said the key mistake the railroad executives made at that time was that it did not realize it was not in the railroad business; instead it should have seen that it was in the transportation business. The bigger picture of moving goods and passengers from point A to point B was myopically overlooked as the oncoming airline industry developed. Transportation, not trains, was the future. If the railroad was to compete, it would have seen this coming, and improved its infrastructure, and made train travel more efficient and widespread. Instead, it missed a huge opportunity.

Danny Meyer has this reminder in his book, Setting the Table.

“What really challenges me to get up and go to work every day is my deep conviction about the intense human desire to provide and receive hospitality—well beyond the world of restaurants. Within moments of being born, most babies find themselves receiving the first four gifts of life; eye contact, a smile, a hug and some food. We receive many other gifts in a lifetime, but few can ever surpass those first four. That first time may be the purest “hospitality transaction” we’ll ever have, and it’s not much of a surprise that we’ll crave those gifts for the rest of our lives. I know I do.”

Entreprenuer, do you know what business you are in? You might think you are designing software, but you're really making your clients business work more efficiently. My new HVAC serviceman does more than fix heatpumps; he makes my life easier with prompt, effective service. Understand the value you provide your customer that goes beyond your product. And now is a good time to discern that. It will make all the difference in the world as you build your enterprise.

Congratulations, Tanner and Lauren. Thanks for letting us be a part of your story.

Four Years and a shot of Dimple Pinch

2011-08-07T14:53:00.000-07:00

Just getting home after a full day of restaurant adventure, with the prominent element being the true-to-form Midwestern thunderstorm that showed up uninvited at dinner time this evening. It came on so fast, the folk eating outside had to abandon their tables along with their food and drink and seek shelter inside. I sit now, in the solace of my outdoor man-cave, enjoying the occasional dribble of rain water caroming from leaf to leaf on my big ash tree that stands guardian over most of my back yard. There is something so calming about the air after a summer storm. It is in this that I take refuge, and reflect back on the importance of this day.

It was four years ago today, August 06, that we opened our doors for business. We were hoping to open Monday morning the 5th, but our health inspector was not available to sign off, so we had to wait one more day. It was a little after ten that she gave us the thumbs up, and told us we could open. A quick email to our followers (didn’t have Twitter back then) and a short post on my blog, and by our second day of business, we had a full house.

People ask me what it feels like to cross this mile marker, and I never really know what to say, because words seem so inadequate to express the incredible journey that has unfolded in such a short period of time. As I unwind out here in the night air, listening to Hearts of Space play in unison with the crickets and other night sounds, I thought I would try to put words to emotions of the experience, and see if that would go anywhere.

It’s like having a baby. Up until the day we opened, we were still pregnant with a dream. We carried the idea inside us, like a fetus nourishing itself on its mother’s life blood. But once the doors opened, the baby was born, and it had to be taken care of every single day. No turning back, no giving it back, we were committed and had to figure out how to make it work from here on out.

Was this going to be the biggest mistake of my life? I remember one early morning after about two months of being open, I think it was around 3am, I couldn’t sleep, and could feel my pulse in the soles of my fatigued, overused feet. I recall wondering if I had made the biggest mistake of my life. Was this restaurant idea a dumb pipe dream that led me with stupidity down a path I would not be able to reverse? Sleep deprived, stressed, fearful, the pressure was more than I had ever experienced. But perspective is always clouded by inadequate rest, and I slowly came to realize that it would get better, and indeed it did. Thankfully, I no longer work those same kinds of hours. And no, I don’t think I made the biggest mistake of my life.

Rewards aren't just monetary. It’s the person I’ve never even met who tells me thank you for going to the trouble of opening this kind of restaurant. It’s the number of times people said, “I don’t feel like I’m in Lincoln when I’m in here. It’s the Omaha World Herald paying us two surprise visits, and writing our first critical review outside our city limits. It’s sitting with Tom, an honest, hardworking man, after my shift on Saturday nights, enjoying a drink and conversation and seeing how much he loves our food and staff. It’s the numerous cards and bouquets of flowers that were sent to the restaurant, to the hospital and to our home after Karen discovered she had ovarian cancer. It’s the eighty-plus people that have worked for us over each of the four years, all of whom made a mark on our efforts to provide simple food and drink

Find your own voice. We had no prior experience before we opened this place. In fact, our first bank turned us down for a loan, after a year and a half of developing a relationship with them, of keeping our business plan in front of them, of even bringing my banker bread and other food we would eventually serve. But we kept true to the vision, much like Bob Taylor, maker of Taylor Guitars, of which I own one of his instruments. Bob started making guitars around 30 years ago. But Bob was not an experienced guitar maker. He just simply wanted to make a great guitar. He attributes his lack of experience as part of the reason for his success. Because he did not have the preconceived parameters of what was required to make a guitar, he felt he was freer to think about guitar building in an unrestricted way. His is a true American success story in every sense of the word.

In the same way, I think our lack of experience helped us create the restaurant that we wanted. We were not bound by certain parameters of what a restaurant had to be. We simply had a dream and set out to make it happen, and thank God, it worked out better than we had ever hoped.

There are so many to thank, and too many to name, but it is crystal clear to me this evening that we did not get here alone. Great staff, great customers, great opportunity in a great city. Just like tonight, there was a perfect storm building and I am only so fortunate to be able to witness it unfold.

Cheers!

Mortadella

2011-07-18T16:11:00.000-07:00

Bologna gets a bad rap, as do cold cuts, hot dogs and other such tube steaks. Some of it is rightly earned. There were reasons the butcher figured out how to make these forms of meat, frugality being high on the list. But when frugality turns into cheap, that’s where you get into problems. Adding fillers and other non meat products reduces the process from craft to crap.

We are currently making all of our sausage and cured meats and it proves that the end product is no better than the beginning ingredients. There is no alchemy in starting with junk and thinking you will create culinary gold. Garbage in, garbage out. It applies to food as well as computers.

But one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. The scraps that some would toss, the frugal would figure out a way to make use of it. Liverwurst, kidney pie and pickled pork tongue are a few of the creative uses someone figured out could be tasty, and passed on the practice to successive generations. Some would probably say that it’s time to stop that tradition. I beg to differ.

I don’t have to do charcuterie. There are easier, less time consuming ways to make a product for the menu, but when is ease the standard for deciding what to make? If I succumb to the notion that easier is better, a world of opportunity gets overlooked and subsequently, its pleasures get passed by.

The mortadella project was a next step toward one of those pleasures. It’s an emulsified sausage that contains pistachios and olives and little flecks of pork fat. It has a beautiful cross section when cut open, and its flavor of mace and garlic are distinct and prominent.

It is a labor intensive meat product, and keeping it held at a cold temperature is crucial in maintaining its emulsion. Then you have to worry about packing it into the large casing. And if that’s not enough, if you aren’t careful, it will burst if the poaching water in which you cook it is too hot.

Why bother?

The satisfaction of accomplishment, of learning a new cooking skill, and of knowing how an ingredient behaves at a certain temperature to start. Add to that a memorable flavor, texture, and appearance of a finished product that you can say, “I made that.”

To me, that’s reason enough to bother.

One of these things is not like the other

2011-07-14T05:20:00.000-07:00

So that I do not stand as fodder for any anti-arena gossip, let me say that I admit that I stand to benefit from the building of this new arena as much as anyone. I am willing to put up with the inconvenience of the additional noise and dust for the price of progress. Any type of improvement demands a cost, one that I am more than willing to pay. Thankfully we have not needed the arena to succeed in the past four years of our existence. In my mind the arena will only help us refine our vision for providing locally sourced, handcrafted food for the people of our city to enjoy in an atmosphere conducive to conversation and reflection.

I wrote on Sunday about an encounter with an arena project vehicle (shown below) that was creating a bigger problem than the one it was sent to solve. To my surprise, that post raised a few eyebrows, and it appears we have found a solution.

I must thank a few people for their prompt attention to this problem. Devin Seacrest of WRK, LLC, Darrel Podany from Senator Johanns office, and Halley Salem from Urban Development all contacted me early this week concerning the problem I outlined in my Sunday blogpost. I do not apologize for pointing out incompetence, but neither do I want to be culpable of not being grateful for those who execute their job skillfully. These three recognized that something was amiss and as a business owner dependent on my outdoor seating as a vital revenue source, if I did not take time to publicly say thank you, I would be guilty of ingratitude, which is something I never want to have to own.

This one came rolling by late afternoon and is what a properly functioning street sweeper looks like. Picking up more dust than it leaves behind, reducing its impact on the neighborhood in which it operates. Notice that there is no large plume of contaminated dirt billowing from the spinning brushes? Notice also the trail of water in a straight line behind the truck to keep the dust at bay? See the clouds rolling by along the horizon? This is a guy doing his job. This is all I ask.

Thank you Devin, Darrell and Halley. I deeply appreciate your efforts and coming to our aid.

Wait and See

2011-07-13T04:49:00.000-07:00

The verdict: wait and see

As this point the doctor is not really sure what her condition is and what caused the debilitating pain, but instead of continuing to prod and poke around and incur further expense, his advice was to be patient and observe any further changes or developments. Since the pain has subsided and there are no other symptoms, he said to carry on with life. We can do that.

So to not incur any more cabin fever, and to help her take it easy, she will go spend a few days with her mom, and not be tempted to lift any cases of wine or heavy dish racks that could have spurred the onset.

As her husband and as a writer, I find that putting my thoughts into words helps me as much as it helps anyone else. When faced with situations beyond our control, I believe it is human nature to reach for something of which we can be in charge. Doing so helps us with our grief and fear that develops as a result. It’s not uncommon to feel the need to clean the house, organize the garage or wash the car because these are ways we can begin to feel in command, while our world continues to cycle out of control.

Over a year ago, when the doctor gave us the devastating news that Karen had cancer, my first impulse when I got home from the hospital was to write about it. I later reflected on why that was my reflexive response, I believe I did so because I needed something to control. I was not able to control the story as it unfolded, but I could at least control the reporting of that story. I was not in authority over the circumstances, but I did hold authority over the words.

Fast forward a year later, when the CAT scan last week showed a suspicious thickening in her abdomen, the levee broke. Fear came flooding in. Frightening thoughts eddied in the flow. I thought we had beaten this. What do I do now?

This time, my first inclination was to go to the grocery store. I am a chef, after all, and food is what I control on a daily basis.

I must have spent two hours there, walking slowly, deliberately through the produce section, past the butcher counter, studying the different colors, shapes, proteins, and the ideas that transpired. It was an oddly calming exercise, and I gave myself the permission to be there while Karen rested in her narcotic-aided sleep.

I spent more than normal that day, and gave myself permission for that as well.

Life pulls us back and forth between these two poles of submission and control. We seek mastery over our domain, all the while knowing that the domain is fragile and tenuous at best, and could be pulled from our hands at any moment. But the tree planted by the water survives the storm. The house built upon the rock remains standing. Likewise, the roots of our soul must stay deeply grounded if a sustainable life is desired.

Relief

2011-07-12T06:22:00.000-07:00

They’ve ruled out cancer.

Whew!

The pathology report shows a negative biopsy of the affected area. All her blood tests show normal. Now that we know what it’s not, we have to find out what it is.

She is feeling a bit better today, still gimpy, but nowhere near the level of discomfort as before. But my “shoot first, ask questions later” wife is getting pretty restless. No grass grows under Karen Shinn’s feet, and week in bed at home is more than she can stand. Understandable, especially when you don’t know what’s going on in your own body, and are just told to wait for someone else to figure it out. Activators don’t’ know what this means. In her mind this should have been figured out yesterday.

A consultation with the doctor is scheduled later today to determine if laparoscopy is needed to investigate further.

The Peter Principle

2011-07-10T08:09:00.000-07:00

I’m all for progress, and am willing to put up with the construction necessary to make the Haymarket Arena happen, but when you come across incompetence of this nature, it’s too good to keep to yourself.

A few weeks ago, the dumptruck convoy mounted up and began the process of removing the contaminated dirt from the old railyard site. I would estimate one every minute or two turns left onto S street in front of my restaurant on their way to who-knows-where with their soiled soil. Trucks we can deal with. Granted, they are a little noisy at times, but we are used to big vehicles coming in and out of the post office. All a part of urban landscape. I get it.

What I don't get is this guy, a so called street sweeper. I don't understand his role. He made several passes on Saturday, creating such a cloud of dust, you could not see the building across the street.
Frustrated to the point of action, I walked out in the middle of the street and stopped Pig Pen from doing his "work." I asked the driver if this is normal, and in his brilliance replied, "I don't know, I didn't build the rig."

I could tell I had a winner on my hands, but foolishly continued to pound on the thick skull with more questions. Similar answers. The only progress made was creating a headache from beating my head against his too many times.

But his last statement to me was so befuddling, I just walked away in disbelief. His words were:

"We're not supposed to worry about the dust. We're just supposed to keep the dirt from the trucks off the road for the EPA"

Somewhere, small children are having this conversation:

"What does your daddy do?"

"He's a streetsweeper. He drives around in a big truck and makes a huge mess where ever he goes."
Now I'm no scientist, just a chef, but it would appear to me that the EPA is creating a new problem with its solution. Just keep the dirt, the contaminated dirt, from the trucks off the street, nevermind if you kick it up in the air. Its' more important to keep in compliance than it is to see how compliance is not working. Its much easier to consult a policy than a person. That way PigPen can get off at five and go drink beer without interuption.

I feel sorry for this driver when he or she gets back to this mess.

Pig Pen reminded me that common sense easily takes a back seat to beaurocracy. I would hope that any driver, upon seeing smoke coming from the tires or the engine of his truck, would think to stop and take a gander at what might be going wrong and get it taken care of. If a streetsweeper creates more mess than it remedies, then shouldn't someone stop and at least ask a simple question?

I don't know where to begin my appeal, but on a Sunday morning, venting through the written word makes me feel a little better. Thanks to our faithful customers who are willing to put up with this inconvenience. I hope we can find a solution ASAP

No news is good news

2011-07-09T21:34:00.001-07:00

That sound you hear is the sigh of relief, from me landing in my patio chair, of finishing a long market Saturday, and of having Karen home from a brief stay in the hospital. She is resting, enjoying the pleasant effects of the pharmaceutical cocktail the medical barista has her taking, and yet already feeling bored from the down time of being off her feet and in bed.

We still don't know anything, which I guess in some ways is good news. All we know is something very small is causing a great deal of pain. Our waiting now is for a pathology report from the biopsy that was taken yesterday from the painful part of her abdomen.

It took me about twice as long to get through the Farmer's Market this morning, as I fielded numerous questions from friends and vendors inquiring of Karen's health. These are pleasant interruptions, however, each one a reminder of the community of which we are a part and of your concern for us and for her well being.

I wish I had more to let you know, but will continue to keep posting anything new we find out here on this forum. Thanks to our staff who have willingly stepped up to cover Karen's shifts and made it so much easier to be away. You guys have no idea how much we appreciate it. Thanks to my mother-in-law, Betty, who made it up through the long detours from Missouri to sit with Karen for a short time, enabling me to be at work today. My words are inadequate for proper remuneration.

Its times like these that reveal the quality of community in which you reside. We are so blessed to be surrounded by so much love and support. No one like to be in this point of vulnerability and weakness, but when you are, there is no better feeling knowing that support is an arm length away.

I get by with a little help from my friends

2011-07-08T19:11:00.001-07:00

If you don't see Karen or me around the restaurant this week, it's because we had to admit her to the hospital today (Friday) for severe abdominal pain. It happened all of a sudden on Tuesday evening with symptoms that appeared to be a muscle spasm in her lower right rib cage. Some aspirin and a heat compress provided some temporary relief, enough for her to get some sleep and wake up the next day, a little sore, but able to carry on with her daily duties.

But by the end of the day Wednesday, the pain had come back with a vengeance, in her words, as painful as childbirth. Nothing provided relief. I can attest to her high tolerance for pain. This is the woman who bore both children without epidural or other pain blocker, you know, like the pioneers did it. Needless to say, neither of us got much sleep that night.

By Thursday morning, I felt very helpless, and began consulting her physicians, who told us to take her to the hospital for relief and immediate care. They were able to help manage the pain, do a few tests, and conclude from the CAT scan that there was a thickening in the lining of the abdomen (omentum) and that the doctor felt it might be related to her cancer. It seemed the air left the room, as it was hard to breathe as we feared we may have to open another chapter of the book that we thought was closed.

The advice was to consult with her oncologist, which we did this morning (Friday). To our relief, they said her symptoms were not consistent with cancer, and that a tumor should not cause this much pain. It took some convincing, but the doctor and nurse practitioner got Karen to agree to be admitted into the hospital for immediate observation.

So I checked her in today around 1:30pm and the plan of attack is to manage the pain and try to determine its cause. The puzzling condition is that piercing, excruciating pain is the only symptom. No fever, no nausea, no vomiting, no heartburn, no radiating pain. She has an appetite, and can eat and drink normally. Possibilities include hernia, gastritis, diverticulitis, ulcer, and omental torsion. The plan is to try to eliminate each of these one at a time.

Thank you all for your prayers and concern. Special thanks to our incredible staff for picking up the slack this week and covering for both Karen and I. My worries are many right now, but the well being of the restaurant is the least of them. I will use this forum to continue to keep updates published. I wish I could answer your calls, but trust that I appreciate your effort, which translates into concern for Karen and me.

All that glitters is not gold

2011-06-19T08:57:00.001-07:00

Those who are not have a hard time understanding those of us who are, we introverts, who have an odd sort of need for time alone. The extroverts have interpretations of this requirement of anything from being unfriendly to Ted Kaczynski-like strange. But if you are one, you have an innate knowledge of what I am talking about. You may not be able to explain it, but just as effective as aspirin to a headache, so is solitude to your internal soul.

On Father's Day this morning, I began a little hashtag on Twitter (#rememberingdad) of little sayings I recall hearing from my Dad over the years. Like the time I had a flat and was so flustered by it that he simply replied, "don't cuss the one that went down; be glad the other four didn't."

"The other four? I asked. "What do you mean?"

"You've got a spare don't you? Three plus one equals four."

And thus was his simplicity of reason and his thoughtful approach to life that I saw over and over again. To this day, one of the most profound sayings he would share with me when something didn't seem quite right, like finding a bargain too good to be true, or a sales pitch offering something for nothing.

"All that glitters is not gold; All that titters is not tit."

Here again reminding me that not everything is as it seems.

But this can work in the converse, also. Some situations are much better than they appear to the naked eye. The old proverb states that there is a man who appears to be poor, yet has great wealth. Treasure is hidden, and many times left that way. It's much easier to safeguard by keeping it quiet.

Now, nearly six years after my dad's passing, I realize he was a man of great wealth, a keeper of a deep reservoir of thought, insight and knowledge, that very few people got access to. I remember him spending hours alone, on the tractor tending to our 26 acres of woods and pasture grass, or in his hand-built workshop, fixing, welding or maybe just simply enjoying the reward that the privacy proffered. I never really thought of it at the time. I was busy in my own mind to even notice or inquire. But if I had the opportunity today, I'd begin with my list of questions for him that grows longer with each continual year without him.

The more complicated my life becomes, the more I yearn for a tractor to ride, a pasture to mow, or a rose garden to tend. These were among Dad's diversions in which he found great pleasure, and which gave his mind the space it needed to explore his thoughts, much like a spelunker moving into a passage only large enough for one person to pass. It's not that you don't like people; it's just that there are some internal places too tiny for inclusion and need to be sussed out alone.

While I wish my Dad was still alive, to be able to call him today, hear his voice, and to feel his pride, I am still able to enjoy another bit of wisdom he left behind. "Don't be sad for what you don't have; be thankful for what you missed out on." Dad isn't with us any longer, but I missed out not having a father of which I was not proud.

Thank you, Dad. May I carry your legacy well.

Charcutepalooza - Stuffing Sausage

2011-06-14T06:39:00.000-07:00

Now that my kids are in their teen years and the empty nest is in sight, I get a little nostalgic for the days when they were young and the times seemed more simple and their needs seemed less daunting. I think back over the years when they were little and to the toys that seemed most memorable to them, and to me, and it reminds me that regardless of how fast the world around us moves, some things remain the same and will always do so. I remember the Christmas I got my son and his cousins a tool tray and filled it with rope, a hammer, a flashlight. some bungee cords and a few nails. After the fray of opening all the gifts, the first thing the boys grabbed and took outside was that tray full of items ready for creative use. Made me feel proud as a dad and uncle. Cooking owns this same kind of simplicity for me. Start with a few ingredients, add some creativity, go to work and admire the outcome. I am fortunate to have found a supply of good raw ingredients with which to begin, like this big farm chicken from Sanders Farm in Valparaiso, NE Or the two hogs I buy from TD Niche Pork in Elk Creek, NE. Here is 178 pounds of raw Berkshire pork ready to be butchered for its various uses. It takes about 3 hours to break everything down, to trim and pack it up for my cooks and I to use in kitchen. My job is make sure everyone has what they need to do their job; shoulder for sandwiches, bellies for bacon, fat and trim for sausages. Below is a batch ready to be turned into coppa, a spicy stuffed cured meat that will need to hang and dry for a few weeks. Here is the tube in its "green" form, that is, as it is assembled and full of moisture. As it drys, it will lose a significant amount of weight, and this weight loss is one way to determine the progress of the aging process.

In my moments of nostalgia, stuffing sausage reminds me of mashing out shapes of Play-Doh with my kids. Drop different colors into the molder and push the plunger, and out comes a funky new design that can be anything from a snake to a make believe red and blue striped hot dog for Barbie to eat. The main difference is that you can actually eat the snake or hot dog.

But the ultimate end of all my cooking is the plate, placed before the customer for enjoyment. Here we did Pork Two Ways, combining a spare rib with a pork sausage and simple mashed potatoes.

Why I agree

2011-06-07T09:29:00.001-07:00

Livability.com has released a statement noting in their opinion the 10 ten most livable cities in the US for college grads. Even though I graduated college 25 years ago, I don't exactly fit into its given rubric, I agree with the assessment. It was 21 years ago that my new wedded wife and I moved to Lincoln, thinking we would stay a few years and move on to bigger and better horizons. But two kids, several cars, a house, and a thriving young restaurant later, the future looks even brighter for our Midwestern city. It's why we want to continue to invest ourselves here.

When asked what I thought of the new arena and other economic development planned for Lincoln, I told the friend that I believe in five years we will be living in a most favorable city in the nation. I predicted that publications like US News and World Report or Consumer Reports will be writing stories about the best cities in American and that I believed Lincoln would rank among the top. This website is a foreshadowing of that prophesy.

Here's why I think a college grad should consider sending down roots here.

Opportunity
1. I can speak for myself and my industry here, but it amazes me that in a city our size, how few the number of independent, locally owned, chef-driven restaurants there are. If I ever have the good fortune to open another place, I will first consider here in Lincoln, rather than fishing in other waters. If I wanted to move to Austin, or Portland where opportunities for local food are abundant, I might get lost in the crowd.
2. Instead of thinking about what Lincoln lacks, the young entrepreneurial mind should be saying, what can I create? I love the story of Ryan Starr in the May 29 edition of the Journal Star, who wants to bring "zorbing" to Lincoln. Instead of complaining that there is nothing fun to do, he takes the attitude, "I've always wanted to sell fun." He's a contributor and void presents him with his opportunity.
Leadership
1. I was most impressed by the campaign to build the arena, and how it was filled at the top with agreement from leaders across political and economic lines. It is unusual to find that of unity in a city our size. Sure, we will wrangle over the details and deal with the detractors, we have leadership in place that will move us forward. As a businessman and entrepreneur, I want to incubate my new ideas in this kind of environment.
Family
1. Big urban cities are fun, vibrant playgrounds for big people, but not so much when it comes to raising a family. It can be done, obviously, but when Junior comes along, the little one has a big effect on the choices Mom and Dad make to ensure proper attention can be given to raising that child. The pace of life here helps, as does the number of great kid-friendly parks, events, and leagues that cater to children. Our schools rival other parts of the nation that may appear sexier and more hip, but hip doesn't really matter when tucking a toddler snugly in bed, feeling the security of stable surroundings.

I hope the college grads can see this and take it to heart, to believe we are a livable city and not succumb to cynicism and mere consumption. Take that degree and become a contributor, and reinforce Liveable.com's belief that Lincoln is a great city to live.

Gratitude: One Year Later

2011-05-30T08:34:00.001-07:00

It was a year ago that the presence of a silently growing mass called cancer was revealed to us by Karen's OB in the sterile little hospital room in which she lie in recovery. This was the same man who presided over the birth of our two children 18 and 15 years prior and introduced us to the little boy and little girl that grew inside the same space that now housed the tumor. Life and death are ironically and intimately connected.

But now a year later, I sit at home writing about these memories as Karen is inside, getting ready to go into the restaurant, which now for her includes the added routine of washing and styling her hair. It has come back in such new found glory, it makes the months of baldness seem like a distant past.. Black and thick, seasoned with a sprinkling of gray around the temples, it has a vibrancy now that makes her look better than ever. The chemo brought death to the old, but made way for life of the new.

I can't help but think of our good fortune in this story and not consider those whose story has not brought the same kind of relief. Not only cancer, but other suffering brought on by earthquakes, tsunamis and other natural disasters. The stories from the recent Joplin tornado show how some were spared and others were not. The twister passes over one house and destroys another. A child is pulled away from a mother's arms. One survives, another does not.

Even today, this holiday we call Memorial Day, calls us who enjoy life to remember those who lost theirs in our nation's many conflicts. Life and death are inseparable.

The older I get, the less answers it seems I have to the more difficult questions that our human condition provokes us to ask. The biggest and most daunting ones begin with the three letter word, why?

Why?

Sometimes the why can be answered. Why was I careless? Why didn't I take more precaution? Why didn't I take better care of myself? But at other times, why can seem like a futile exercise, like explaining the importance of math to a 7^th grader. In his mind, it feels like nothing more than a boring waste of time.

In my quest for living a more sustainable life, the one ingredient I have discovered that rises above all others is gratitude. Being grateful for what I have, as well as for what I don't. Gratitude for what is right now trumps over the fear of what might be.

I don't know what I will have tomorrow, but I know that today, I have a wife that is healthy, beautiful and able to enjoy life with me at this stage. Cancer, or any other malady or catastrophe could show up tomorrow. It is beyond my control.

Last year, as Karen's OB was allowing the aftershock of the news he had just announced to us to settle in, he offered this advice; Even though it was normal for us to want to think in terms of odds and treatment percentages and chances of survival, he instead directed us to focus on all the positive things that we know right now. He reminded us that the cancer was detected early, and it is a treatable disease, and that we have a great network of support around us. These three were in our favor and we can be grateful for such.

Why eating for pleasure is your best hedge against gluttony.

2011-05-23T08:44:00.001-07:00

Words have a subtle way of changing their meaning, especially as the speed of our culture continues to exceed any sort of presumed speed limit. The instantaneous communication devices that we hold in our hand or have sitting on our lap make us immediately familiar with thoughts, phrases and ideas from sources far and wide, be it a company, celebrity or completely obscure individual that gets noticed by millions of people for something quirky or embarrassing that got caught on video.

Case in point; I remember a few years ago seeing the film, Napoleon Dynamite, thinking somebody should make a "Vote for Pedro" shirt. I should have counted the number of shirts I saw the week following. From ones that were obviously homemade to those professionally created and sold in joints like Wal-Mart and Spencer Gifts, it did not take long for that phrase to become a nationwide fad, only to turn into a cliché in the same amount of time.

Familiarity breeds contempt. That with which we are most familiar is what can become taken for granted and eventually mistreated. This is why we hate that pop song they play on the radio over and over and over again. This is why we can be the meanest to people in our own family. We become so familiar; we eventually start taking them for granted and ultimately forget their importance.

Food falls under this category, and I believe it is our tiresome familiarity with what we eat that leads to trouble.

Eating is the most basic of human functions, and its beauty and importance can be as easily disregarded as the sun that rises every day.

So can the meaning of pleasure.

The title of this post contains a word that I think is severely misunderstood due to its current familiarity. The word pleasure has become attached to a certain meaning that I think needs reinterpreting. That meaning has less to do with any type of profound satisfaction and more to do with simplistic relief. I would wager a big stack of chips on the pass line that pleasure is not automatically considered a worthy end as much as it is a gluttonous one. Let me contrast the two ideas.

Gluttony can be thought of as a form of reward that has a short term payoff. Its interest is immediate satiation, but typically it has some form of regret attached to it. Drinking too much can seem like a good idea at the time, but the recovery required to assuage the hangover will have to be paid like disconnect notice from the electric company. You can't put it off. The price will be paid or else.

Pleasure on the other hand, should be thought of in more noble terms. Pleasure that has its mind set on long term dividends takes care to not put those dividends in jeopardy. Pleasure keeps a portfolio of experiences and adds to the balance sheet, never wanting to debit the account for a frivolous withdrawal that may take a long time to recapture.

Often we refer to yielding to indulgent impulses as a moment of weakness; giving in to that bit of chocolate or second helping because "I couldn't help it." But counter intuitively, pleasure can ultimately lead to strength over weakness, because when pleasure is taken very seriously, care is given to guard it.

Have you ever had a perfect evening, or moment with someone special and find yourself thinking, "This night is so perfect; I wish it could go on forever." Your sense of pleasure is heightened and you feel the thrill that it is intended to deliver.

What's the second thought that comes through your mind?

"I don't want to do anything to screw this up."

In this way, our pleasure serves as sentinel for continued and future experiences because its outlook is beyond the immediate horizon.

This is why I believe pleasure, not guilt, rule, diet or duty, is our best bet against gluttony and overeating. Eat better, more flavorful, meaningful food. Take time to savor, and take pleasure in the preparation, the setting, and the people you are with. Slow down and cherish everything about the moment and safeguard it so there can be many more like it in the future.

The Culture Code

2011-05-22T05:45:00.001-07:00

I've decided that trying to reduce 30 years of a man's work into four paragraphs is like trying to convey anything of importance via Twitter. Rashard Mendenhall found out recently that 140 characters are just enough to get him misunderstood.

Let me highly recommend the latest book I just finished, titled The Culture Code, particularly if you are the nurturer of a dream or idea that you are hoping will someday become a physical reality. I resounded with it on many levels, but at its most important, I take away the thought that dreams are what our country was built upon, and the ability to chase those dreams is one thing that makes the culture of America unique and great.

I've had the good fortune to chase a dream, one that I can trace its inception back 16 years ago. It has been a difficult journey seeing it come to fruition. There have been good days and bad days. There have been seasons that felt like long stretches of wandering in the desert, and moments of elation that I could not even begin to describe.

We are a country of dreamers, but I would not go so far to say that every person should feel required to have one that they are trying to chase. I do think that a phrase such as "follow your dreams" can become cliché and meaningless as easily as others akin to it, like "think outside the box" or "take it to a new level." The more it gets thrown around as a slogan, the less power it contains. This is the nature of words. They must always be reviewed and redefined in order to understand their meaning.

If my voice has legs, I hope that it will find the path to those who have an idea festering inside like a pesky splinter on the ball of the foot. Everywhere you step, you feel it under the skin and can carry on despite it, but eventually will have to stop and address it. Your dream is your offspring. It is under your stewardship, your watch and care. It contains your fingerprints and your DNA. It is as distinctive as you are. And like a child, it needs you to parent it, direct it and help it grow up. Dreams, like children, will have an indelible imprint on your life if you choose to birth one. It does not exist to take care of you, but you are to be its guardian.

It’s our own fault

2011-05-16T06:16:00.001-07:00

I wrote in my last post about our American food culture and how we tend to relate to food as a source of fuel rather than a source of pleasure and enjoyment. The vast majority of Americans think of eating as a means of filling the tank in order to move on to the next activity. Speed and efficiency overtake any concern for means and substance. Degree of quantity supersedes any measure of quality. We like our food big, and we want it right now.

Framing it this way helps me take inventory of comments I receive via email, or on some of the online food and travel sites, about our restaurant and the way we serve our food. We have deliberately gone "off code" when it comes to the mainstream appreciation for how it wants its food. You could even go so far and say that some of the complaints are my own fault for not giving people what they want. Imagine being invited to a potluck with some new friends and you show up with a juicy fat roasted chicken, only to find out everyone at the gathering is a vegan. You didn't get the memo. You missed something about culture into which you wandered.

If your agenda is to serve chicken to your new friends, you're likely not going to get invited back anytime soon. But if the plan is to make a connection with them, then you might still have a doorway open.

If I told you I wanted to sell sushi in Ashland, you'd think I was crazy. Serving raw fish in small town Nebraska? I'd probably have a better chance convincing those vegans to eat chicken. I might as well reply to the email from the lawyer of the Nigerian millionaire while I'm at it. But if I had the ability to personally convince everyone in the county the joys of eating sushi, and had a packed house every day to prove it, you'd call me a genius.

It's easy to blame the market for not accepting your idea without understanding why you are not connecting with it in the first place. If no one is walking in my doors, do I know why? Do I know from their perspective what it is I am asking them to do? Change is difficult for most, and if I'm asking you to change how you eat, I'm walking to school, uphill, both ways, knee deep in snow.

Go ahead and say it

2011-05-15T04:59:00.001-07:00

I tell my wife that male humor never progresses or matures past the junior high level. The easiest way to prove this is to make a batch of sausage. I make sausage from scratch every week, sometimes twice, and without fail, every time, some guy on my staff makes some kind of phallic comment. Since it's impossible to escape, and yes, I can admit that the hog casing does resemble a 25 foot condom, go ahead and say and get it out of your system. Last night we made pork kielbasa with winter onion that I retrieved from the Farmers Market and served it as a two way (insert joke here) with spare ribs and sautéed spicy mustard greens.

Among my favorite sausage we make is boudin blanc, a white sausage made from chicken or lean pork that gets its fat from the eggs and cream whipped in to create an emulsion before stuffing into the 25 foot condom. It's a glorified hot dog, really, but made with real meat and not from floor sweepings or whatever else might go into an industrial tube steak. Boudin Blanc w/ Fresh Spinach & Garlic Cream Sauce

Boudin Blanc (from rulhman's Charcuterie)
Fresh chopped garlic
Fresh spinach leaves
Cream
Grana Padano or Parmesan
Smoked Almonds

I like to slice the blanc and sear the surface in one pan, while in another, heat garlic in olive oil til flavor is released. Add a huge handful of spinach and let it wilt down, which it will do quickly, then add the seared sausage, cream and cheese. Simmer til the cream reduces and season with a little salt. When plated, I add smoked almonds that I create in the smoker while doing other meats. The spices in the sausage are subltle, but very noticeable with the cream sauce.

Going off code

2011-05-13T13:05:00.001-07:00

A customer of mine loaned me a fascinating book that has answered several of my questions as it pertains to understanding customer behavior. The Culture Code (Clotaire Rapaille) is an explanation of why people around the world live and buy as they do. The author shows why we think the way we do about beauty, health, money, work, and especially my interest, food. If you are a marketer of goods, I recommend this one highly.

What makes this book of value is the simplicity of his thesis. He seeks to summarize behavior, regardless of culture, into a one-word code, that is easy to grasp. Rapaille says that this code is not random, but a result of the influences that have shaped our culture in order to survive to the next generation.

Of particular note, he describes the American culture code for food is FUEL. When I read his explanation this word picture, a number of things I experience in the restaurant business immediately fell into place.

Americans approach food as fuel that will fill them up so they can move on to the next activity. In the same way we want our gasoline, cheap and abundant, so also we want our food. Our decisions about what we eat are based on sheer economics (where can I get it the cheapest?), not on quality (I can't really tell a difference.) Travel down the highway and your need for food and fuel are combined in the same stop. Food vendors are found inside and alongside gas stations so you can fill up both tanks, quickly and inexpensively, and promptly get back on the road toward your destination.

The construct of the American all-you-can-eat buffet is consistent with this notion. Quality of product is not as important as quantity. If I want the gauge to read FULL, a buffet is an efficient means to that end. Note that every time you go back through the line to fill another plate, you refer to as a "trip." Food is our fuel, which is why the concept of our restaurant goes against this code.

Contrast this relationship of Food-as Fuel with the author's explanation of the code in France, which would be PLEASURE. The French take more time to eat, more time to prepare and would never think of creating an all-you-can-eat situation that puts quantity over quality. To them, this would not be pleasurable, but instead, vulgar. Why cheapen the experience, and thereby diminish the pleasure? This is why much of our appreciation and education of fine cuisine stems from the kitchens in France. Go to the top chefs in America and you will most certainly find an understanding and foundation of French cooking. Even the title "chef," originates with the French.

I must keep this in mind when I hear a complaint about portion size, or "can we get this to go?" The food I produce is not intended to be fuel, but pleasure. But if the average customer is responding on code, pleasure is not the first concern.

If you are a reader, and a regular customer of mine, the next time you come in, see if this explanation sheds any new light on what we are trying to accomplish.

Defining Your Success

2011-05-09T09:30:00.001-07:00

I know of no chef who does not want to be successful. No right minded person goes into the kitchen to deliberately put out bad food and intentionally sink the ship. We all want the house full, every night. We want to hear rave reviews about our craft and creations. We want to see more money coming in than going out. But is this the only way to define success?

This topic of success is fresh on my mind this Monday morning, coming off our biggest weekend in our short 3 ½ year history. We made more in sales last Friday than in any given week in our first 6 months after opening. The small, seminal dream we had years ago is now a full-fledged reality.

And this is what we hoped for, but it's a different view on this side of the river that when we first started out. When we pushed to birth the dream, we most certainly had success in mind. We had an idea of what we want it to look like, but it was still a concept. It was not yet reality. And as I look back this morning, with experience under the belt, being able to say "we did it." I hold both views in each hand, making sure they match up.

The ability to define your success is an important part of the business plan. If you don't, your success might define you.

I am fascinated by the personalities in my industry that our culture has dubbed "successful." You can be considered a success and still have accomplished nothing. You don't need to be a great cook. You don't' need to have a string of restaurants, or possess several Michelin stars. In many ways, you just need to be in the right place at the right time, get recognized and ride the wave.

Just how long this wave will last? When will we tire of celebrities showing how to take shortcuts in the kitchen and call it good? And how many cupcake shows can we consume before the schtick wears as thin as the bottom of an overscrubbed stock pot? Will our culture tire of elevating chefs on a pedestal and move on to another industry's icon?

This is why I don't think fame, recognition or celebrity should be a prominent factor in defining your success. I have control over my cooking; I don't have control over what you think of me. I have control over how I treat my employees, and the kind of work environment I create; I don't have control over public image.

At the end of the day, I want to be able to sit alone with my thoughts and enjoy my success. I can do that if my success is built on a foundation that is not dependent upon whichever way the wind blows.

Adopting vs Adapting

2011-04-24T05:49:00.001-07:00

We returned from our trip to Denver this week, well fed and well rested. Some don't understand when we describe the details of our trip as sleeping and eating, but when you are inspired by others who make great food for you, every meal is a chance for entertainment.

Denver is a very different market than Lincoln, and it would be easy to make a mistake by trying to implement big city ideas in a smaller setting like ours. I think many marketers/businesses/opportunists make the mistake of Adopting vs Adapting. They see something that works and adopt it carte blanche, only to find it fail within a short period of time. One man's success is another man's failure, simply because he did not take into account the uniqueness of his own market and adapt it to fit.

We saw lots of things I would like to introduce onto our menu, but adopting without adapting would be foolish. Food is like language; you need to speak to your audience in terms they can understand. It would make about as much sense for me to go to Spain and complain that no one spoke English. In this case the problem would lie with me, and my inability to know where I am.

One element that piqued my interest was the presence of Happy Hour at nearly every place we visited. And these were not just cheap drinks and bar snacks. Instead, premium offerings were made at a discounted price. I've long had the vision for a unique Happy Hour like this in Lincoln, but am not sure if the "build it and they will come" principle would necessarily apply here.

I've always imagined late summer afternoons on our patio, filled with people unwinding for the day, enjoying NE craft beers, a bottle of citrusy sauvignon blanc, or maybe a cold minty sangria and food that is something more than just a fried gut bomb. It's the kind of place I think I would want if I was confined in an office all day. And it's the kind of place I want to create.

I am looking and asking for input here. If we built this, would you come? If so, what would you like to see offered? I'm all ears.

Our Market opens in two weeks, as does our Market Meal. I am certainly excited about the new season and new ideas we have planned for you. Thanks for making our restaurant a fun place to be.

Understanding what it is you do

2011-04-15T19:18:00.001-07:00

Sitting outside this week, enjoying the seasonally early warm evening temperatures, I had a moment of reflection in the same spot I used to sit early in the mornings before I went off to work at my kitchen job that I had while I was waiting on the construction of my restaurant. I remember those days vividly, watching the dawn unfold into daylight, drinking coffee and saying to myself, “Am I going to succeed in getting this restaurant off the ground?” They were exciting, but fear-filled days. I had never done this before, and I was leading my family down a road untraveled. Would this road lead anywhere? If so, would it be anything more than a dead end street?

Fast forward to today. Those previous questions now have answers. And they are all positive. But the questions that are now resolved only give way to brand new ones. Just when you think you've solved the puzzle, a new section is introduced. We never truly arrive at our destination without curiosity for what's next. This is why chefs expand their operation or why they quit altogether and do something different. Call it boredom or just coming to your wits end; the human spirit must always keep growing.

One aspect of my new life as a chef is the chance to continue to learn and grow as a professional. I think back three and a half years ago to what little I knew about the food business, of owning a restaurant, and even cooking. I'm embarrassed at my naiveté. But our little spot on the corner of 8^Th & S streets has become my laboratory, my proving ground, to allow me the permission to continue to learn and grow as a man in his late forties.

So what does this have to do with charcuterie?

Cooking is a very broad category, and when you decide to open a restaurant, your menu needs focus, else your food won't make a lot of sense. Sure, these days you see a lot of fusion, deconstructing, reimagining, putting a new twist, and the most overused term, thinking outside the box when it comes to food trends and expressions of ideas. But I think the reason you see this is simply put, chefs become bored and restless and need something new to challenge their creativity. Yet some of the ideas that pass for food are a far stretch for me, even as an early adopter. Molecular gastronomy has its place, for which I substitute the phrase "food theatre." Not the way I want to eat every day, but on occasion, I'll be game and bite.

Before I move forward, I want to look backward. I want to see all that I have missed. The classics are classic for a reason. The Old World techniques that have survived the test of time have done so because they are sound, stable and profoundly fundamental. You don't see a lot of liquid nitrogen called for in Julia Child's work or The Joy of Cooking because it didn't exist. Instead, tools like fire, salt and a sharp edged tool transformed meat, game and plant material into stable food that would both sustain and bring pleasure.

Thus my interest in preserving and curing meat.

Charcuterie has been a hobby horse of mine for about a year now. Ruhlman and Polcyn's book is just about all you need to learn the basics of a wide variety of styles and techniques, with one of the easiest, and yet immediately rewarding being Tasso Ham.

Modern food preparation removes so many steps from the process that it's easy to forget how much effort it used to take to get food to the table. Since I can't raise the hog myself, I can start with the whole butchered beast and work from there. Here you see a whole hind leg on the worktable that will get used for at least 3 applications. For the Tasso, I cut out a section along the leg bone as seen in the photo From there, I divide the cut into three smaller parts for easier, quicker curing

The simplicity of this technique involves a short curing portion, following by a session in the smoker

I do the smoking on the stove so I can get the temperature higher than the cabinet smoker I typically use. After an hour or so of hickory smoke, you get a great smoky crust. The end result shows up on our menu in a handful of ways. Tonight we put it in a dish with fresh pasta. Linguini Fini with Tasso Ham

Ingredient List:

Shaved Tasso Ham
Artichoke Hearts
Roasted Red Peppers
Kalamata Olives

Gently heat in a sauté pan with good olive oil. Add al dente linguini fini and toss together. We top it with grana padano cheese and a few micro greens seen in the top of the photo.

Food like this feeds my creativity as well as my soul. I realized that I started this restaurant for me, because I needed it foremost. I needed new ideas, new energy and new creativity, and the food I am making allows me all of that. I'm glad that you can benefit and come along for the ride.

So how’s Karen doing?

2011-04-04T04:08:00.000-07:00

It’s been six months since her treatment was completed in October. Such a short time in some respect, but quite a distance in others. It’s not hard to remember sitting in the doctor’s office, with a grim look on his face, announcing to us that the ultrasound detected something very concerning, nor is it a stretch to recall him telling us a week later after the surgery that it indeed was cancer and that further treatment would be needed. The nervous feeling meeting with the oncologist is not far from vivid, either.

But to see her today, you would have no idea anything was ever wrong. Vibrant and energetic, expressing this in her work at the restaurant, she looks as good as ever. She has come to terms (sort of) with the gray in the thick black hair that has replaced the previous locks. If I can just convince her that it makes her look fantastic, I will have accomplished something.

Today we go in for a six month follow up that includes a full scan to see if any additional problems have surfaced. She gets to drink that lovely barium mixture that makes her glow in the dark and allows the machine to see if any bad guys are lurking around. The doctor doesn’t seem to think he will find anything, but nothing is certain, and this will yield more information to guide future decisions.

The 14^th of this month is our 21^st anniversary, so we have short trip planned to Denver to celebrate. It’s nice to feel the reprieve and embrace the day at hand. The question of “what if” still haunts me, but these two words can be followed up with any other source of catastrophe or bad news besides cancer, so waiting around for the other shoe to drop will only yield wasted time worrying over something that can’t be changed anyhow.

Learning to say I can’t

2011-03-29T12:46:00.001-07:00

In the search for a more sustainable lifestyle, I have set for myself a goal of taking a day off more seriously. What that will mean, I'm not really sure, but I got a good idea of what it probably shouldn't look like today. After spending a few hours in the yard moving a truck load of mulch around the yard, my arms and shoulders make me wonder if I've ever done any physical work before.

Like most things I go through, growing older is something that I think about quite a bit. Aging is inevitable and the diminishment that follows will hit us all at some point along the way. But I think I have discovered what will be most difficult thing with which I will have to come to terms. It's accepting the two words, "I can't."

All my life I have lived with a belief that If I want something to happen, it is up to me to make it happen. From a hardworking family, I was taught keep quiet if I was not willing to work for it. I watched my parents do what it took to raise a family, send two kids to college, and craft a retirement of enjoyable activity. If I had a dime for every time I heard the phrase, "kwicherbitchen," I would be able to retire immediately.

As a result, self-reliance became a high value for me. I knew I would need to figure out how to make the preferable future happen rather than waiting around for someone to do it for me. I took weight loss and fitness seriously in college. Running became an outlet for me and I enjoyed years of it. I learned the valuable skill of talking myself into that long run, despite the rain, and that it was dark outside. This mentality to "pull myself up by my own bootstraps" served me later in life, especially in getting this restaurant off the ground.

But after years of telling myself, I can, I can, I can, I am now physically starting to see that this will no longer be feasible, lest it lead me to an unsustainable dead end. I now can't run like I once did, can't work as long as I once did. I am a man near 50 and am learning a new language. I can't once served as an excuse. It meant lazy, unwilling to try. It functioned as a challenge to tackle and a hurdle to get over. In a sustained life, I now see it needs to take on a new definition.

I can't now means I don't try to live as a 25 year old. It means I accept the limitations that come with age as a boundary that creates safety, not as a restriction that makes me feel inadequate.

Changes of the Season

2011-03-24T12:24:00.001-07:00

The loom of winter seems to be coming to its certain, inevitable end, and in turn will bring us the fruit of a more preferable season. Signs of this transformation are everywhere. In the backyard, the heirloom daffodils I foraged from the old Oklahoma homestead are poking through the matted, moldy leaves that look like untempered layers of chocolate. Seeds are sprouting in my basement under the fluorescent lamp contraption my dad referred to as a "tanning bed" that I fashioned out of some old 40W shop lights. The beautiful, dark green overwintered spinach brought in from Community Crops has made its way on my menu this week in the risotto, salads and entrees. Soon it will be time to air up the tires on the little green wagon and drag it through the Farmer's Market that opens in May. I love this time of year.

This will be our third year for our Saturday tradition known as The Market Meal. For those unfamiliar, this is where we shop the nearby Farmers Market and source ingredients for our evening menu from the vendors and their immediate supply. In this way, our menu is dynamic and seasonal, changing every week. The result for you, the customer, is a unique, original and local menu planned that day, and for our staff, a chance to hone our skills and challenge our creativity every single week.

In keeping with this movement of change, I wanted to give you an idea of what to expect should you plan to attend one of our Market Meals this year. It's our desire to provide you with an experience that you and your friends will find deeply enjoyable. As written above our kitchen, we will set the table, and do our very best at doing so; you need only bring the conversation, savor the food, the moment, and the camaraderie that naturally follows.

In many instances, we subscribe to the "less is more" theory. More options don't necessarily lead to better choices. Sometimes it's confusing and fatiguing to look at a long list of items and make a simple decision about what to eat. So we are going to help with that. We will offer a 3-course and a 5-course fixed price menu, with three entrée choices within each, one always being a vegetarian option. We are doing this for a few reasons. One, we think it will give you a better menu by allowing us to focus more intently on preparing fewer items in such a short time period. Two, it will give you a chance to trust the chef to guide your meal, leaving you free to sit back and enjoy the experience.

I know this is a risk, especially in a town that has no precedent for this kind of approach to eating, but we are going to give it a shot and see how it goes. I like to think of it as a form of hospitality that usually is expressed at home. When you invite some friends over, you have the pleasure of preparing and serving their dinner. Your friends trust you to put on a good spread. They don't expect you to have numerous options. The friendship is the focus.

This may sound counterintuitive coming from a chef, but I believe your visit to my restaurant is first about the people you are with, and secondly about the food I put in front of you. This doesn't mean my food isn't important, but in perspective, your friendships will last longer than the meal at my table. I hope to be a link in the chain that connects people and those memories together.

Why you should hear this band

2011-03-10T14:19:00.000-08:00

It’s no revelation to say that music has the power to speak to the soul in ways much more effectively than mere words alone. Every culture has its songs, hymns and anthems it relies up in times of celebration and mourning; for the sake of tradition as well as for the future. And there may arguably be no better example of this than the enduring and endearing music of the Irish.

What is the one overarching quality attached to the Irish? It would have to be the word, luck. Yet if you know anything of Irish history, they are a people who have a record of anything but luck. Exiled, raped, beaten, burned and marginalized to the outer regions, the Irish have endured terrible treatment. So why do we refer to them as lucky?

I believe it has everything to do with the spirit of the people who survived their plight and resolved to rise above it all with a sense of hope, faith and providence. Bitterness was not a chosen option, and it has affected the whole world as a result. You’ll find a St Patrick’s Day parade in the smallest of towns, and a de facto adoption, if only for a day, of millions as a citizen of Ireland.

The Elders embody this in their music and personality. They are a band that is both extremely talented, and a pleasure to watch. Their energy invites you forward and asks you to engage. Wayne Coyne claims that no one leaves a Flaming Lips show unhappy, but he does not hold exclusive rights to this statement. Every show I’ve seen The Elders play, my face hurts from smiling so much, and I would be willing to bet I’m not alone.

They perform at 7:30pm at the Lied Center in Lincoln, NE on Thursday, March 17, which is, conveniently enough, St Patrick’s Day. I will be there. I hope I can convince you as well.

Excerpt from the song Luck of the Irish

Luck of the Irish Where on earth did that phrase come from? Luck of the Irish Never knowing what tomorrow will become We've been beaten, burned, and enslaved Starved from the lands where our fathers dug their graves Never losing faith we have fought for every mile Still no matter where you go you'll always find an Irish smile

The Craft of Brining

2011-03-08T09:31:00.001-08:00

It is very important to me to understand my motives for the choices I make in life. I don’t want to simply know how to do something; I want to know why I want to do it.

Why did I take such a huge risk to quit my career and launch a restaurant in my mid 40’s?

Why was I able to do this? Why did I even want to do this?

Why did I want to become a chef at such a late age?

Why did I have such a compulsion to do this?

Why lay so much on the line for practice of cooking?

These were the questions that filled my mind as I stared at the ceiling during many a sleepless night before making the decision in 2004. My strongest questions were not centered on whether or not I could succeed at the endeavor, but rather why did I feel this overarching drive in the first place? I believed I could cook, manage a staff and run a business. I had confidence in my abilities. I just didn’t know why I felt like I had to do so.

This was important to me because I knew the journey would be difficult, and I would need a foundation upon which to stand when the waves of discouragement came crashing in.

What the heck does this have to do with Charcutepalooza?

It has everything to do with “why?”

We have a commitment in our restaurant to make the majority of what we sell. We make our soups from scratch, all our bread by hand daily, the sauces, dressings and desserts are all from our house recipes. It’s a lot of work, but it has a simple explanation; why do I want to serve someone else’s food?

You can buy Dorothy Lynch salad dressing and serve it at home. Why would you want it at my place? You can buy a bag of chips anywhere, but you can’t buy mine unless you come in for lunch. Are mine better? I think so, but more importantly, they are unique to us. They are crafted by hand for your enjoyment.

Nearly a year ago I began giving charcuterie the same attention. I wanted to see if it would it be possible to prepare all our cured meats in-house. So I bought a meat grinder, several tons of curing supplies, 900 miles of hog casings and a sausage stuffer and set out to try. Armed with the authority of Ruhlman and Polcyn via their book Charcuterie, I got started.

So when I found out about Charcutepalooza, though a tad late, I threw my hat in the ring. I knew it would serve as a monthly discipline to record my experience in a year of learning about the craft.

Brining has such a broad application in the kitchen. These photos show cuts of beef, pork and cucumbers taking a salty bath in preparation for their promotion to an elevated status; Corned beef for St Patrick’s Day, Canadian bacon for Eggs Benedict on Saturday mornings and pickles for burgers and sandwiches. Again, not a difficult process, but it does require more work than buying a jar of Vlassic.

Currently we grind our own pork sausage and are curing our own bacon, pancetta, and pastrami. Expect to see more and more on our menu as the months pass.

Making Local a Habit

2011-03-02T10:02:00.000-08:00

A chef friend and I have been addressing common blog topics, and the subject of buying locally has recently emerged. I thought it would be a good opportunity to voice my opinion on the trend of purchasing locally sourced products.

What does it mean for me to buy local? Is it a wave that we are trying to ride? It is a fad we are trying to capitalize upon? Is it a political conviction or statement we are trying to express? Not entirely. I buy locally for one primary reason:

I really enjoy doing so.

It brings me more satisfaction as a chef to do business with a grower that I know and feel like a contributor to his economy. I’ve been buying from Dave since the beginning. Dave quit his job as a nurse to go into small farming full time. He has a diverse little operation about 25 min north of my restaurant. On his rural acreage, to which I have visited several times, he raises chickens, ducks, rabbits, and other small game birds. He harvests honey from a number of hives that utilize the seasonal pollen of a wide variety of prairie flowers in the nearby pastures. He rotates crops of vegetables each year among several small (some raised) beds of beautiful, rich garden soil in order to keep blight at bay. He brings me some of the best looking produce I’ve ever used.

Last year I did over $12,000 worth of business with Dave. I find it preferable to write him a check each week because it helps him do what he loves to do, and it symbiotically enables me to pursue my joy as a chef.

Politics, concern for the environment or a sense of duty and obligation are all worthy impulses to influence your choices about food sources, but I want to first be a chef, not a moralist, when it comes to feeding you. And my role of chef is to be a herald of pleasure first and foremost. And it brings me more pleasure to work with chickens from Dave than it does from Tyson.

So yes, I am a hedonist and pleasure is my end goal.

Last year I bought 25 hogs for use in my restaurant from Travis, a man who raises Berkshire hogs on a little farm about an hour south of my place. It takes about two hours to cut the entire thing up. So if pleasure is my guiding light, why would I go to all the trouble and hassle of butchering a whole hog in my small little kitchen, when buying a box of pork ribs ends would be so much easier and I’d be done with it? I just find that I like the whole process of butchering, from cutting up the shoulder for roast, to grinding the trim for sausage, to simmering the bones for stock. Yes, this is enjoyable.

The kind of Pleasure which I speak does not derive from ease. Instead it stems from satisfaction in a job well done. It’s drawn from a well of deep amusement in how the world works and fits together. It flows from a river of appreciation for beauty in any form. Sadly, it’s a sensation from which our culture is growing increasingly distant.

This is why I buy local and take the effort required to do so, even though it’s much easier to pick up the phone, call a food vendor and it shows up on your door step the next morning.

But where’s the fun in that?

Alone in my restaurant

2011-02-28T12:57:00.000-08:00

I had an unusual grief to get over when the doors of my restaurant opened three and a half years ago. For so many years, the idea of bread&cup existed in my thoughts and mind and on a few pieces of paper sketched out here and there, tucked in this folder or that drawer. There was a security to the idea, mainly because it was the impetus that moved me forward and out of the funk that I was in. At most any time of the day during that season, the restaurant was what occupied my attention.

In this way, I was in control of the idea and its development from the very beginning, but it all changed the day we served our first customers their food. Our restaurant was now a living, breathing entity and there was no turning back. It was outside of me and now dependent on many others, both customers and employees, to see the vision fulfilled.

Obviously this is the way it is supposed to be. But conception and germination are quieter processes than birthing and nurturing, and I was jolted into the latter in one fell swoop, and it took a while to adjust to being a new dad of a new, infant restaurant.

But there are times that I like to slip back and reflect upon the former, and there is no better place to do it than sitting in my restaurant, quiet, alone, and remembering what it took to get us to this point.

With our long hours, it’s seldom that I get the opportunity during the week to be quiet by myself in the restaurant. But if it happens, it’s usually on a Sunday morning or afternoon, when we are closed, and I end up taking that time to give attention to some detail that was put aside for a later date. There is always something to be done, always something to be fixed, to be cleaned or rearranged. My OCD tends to kick in and if I’m not careful, my whole Sunday is shot.

But on those rare occasions that I don’t feel compelled to straighten all the chairs and adjust the wobbly table legs, I like to have a seat at my bar, pour myself a pint and take a visual inventory. I work to get past all that’s wrong, like seeing the flour sacks that aren’t stacked neatly or wondering why I didn’t do something different to the floors in the first place. I see the nicks in the wall that need a little touch up paint. I hear the compressor kick on under the deli case and it prompts a question of when the last time I cleaned all the refrigerant compressors in my kitchen and what I need to do to schedule a regular maintenance on those things.

Once I fill my list with the half empty items, I now can move to the half full ones. I look around and marvel that this is my little kitchen, my little dining room, my little corner of the world at the intersection of 8^th and S Streets. I remember what a hell of a ride it was to get here, but how privileged I am to own a business, one that is working, and even enjoyable to boot.

I think of all the people it has taken to get to this point, both employees and customers, and seeing the enjoyment on their faces to have a place to work and a place to eat that is a pleasure in both rights.

I enjoy being alone in my restaurant. It gives me a good chance to take a breath and make sure I am enjoying this road upon which I am traveling. What’s the use of success without the license to enjoy it?

Bacon

2011-02-21T05:25:00.001-08:00

Salty. Smoky. Fatty. Savory bacon.

And with it comes an endearing family memory.

My dad liked bacon; really, really liked bacon. So much so that he would buy it in slab form from a mailorder outfit in Arkansas. I can still recall the smell of it sizzling on the flattop griddle in our tiny little farmhouse kitchen. He covered the entire surface with strips lined up in perfect rows. The heat was always low so not to spatter and make a greasy mess, but also to render out the fat more gently and make a more ideal slice of bacon.

We would affectionately refer to dad’s obsession as Sunday Bacon, with the Sunday part coming from the day of the weekend he and mom would pull the little stainless steel electric slicer off the top shelf of the cabinet, assemble it and tackle the smoky brick of pork. It was a bit of an ordeal, but part of the reward lie in the process as well as the aroma and flavor that filled the house and palette.

I don’t have my dad with me any longer, but I do have that old slicer, and now possess the knowledge and skill to make the kind of bacon that I think would have made him proud.

In my restaurant, I buy two Berkshire hogs every three weeks. They arrive at my kitchen in primal cuts; two loins, two shoulders, two hindquarters, two bellies and the head split in two. On the day of delivery, I break these pieces down further into smaller portions for multiple uses on our menu. I usually set aside the bellies for Dave to take back to his farm the next day to make bacon. He runs a smokehouse and is better equipped than I to cure and smoke four large sides of pork.

But with the Charcutepalooza challenge including bacon this month, I decided to do it myself this time and see what I came up with.

What I have discovered with charcuterie is that it is, for the most part, an easy process. By ease I don’t mean quick. But a simple rub of salt cure followed by a week of patience and an hour in the smoker, and you can be known around the office as the “guy who cures his own bacon.” This merit badge can be worn with pride and pinned next to your “dude who brews his own beer” or “one who bakes her own bread.”

I made and served a warm salad with the housemade lardons that is worthy of repeating.

Warm Maple and Bacon Vinaigrette

1c canola oil
1/4c pure maple syrup
1/4c fresh lemon juice
1/4t thyme, sage, marjoram
pinch of salt & pepper
1/2c lardon of bacon

Emulsify liquid ingredients and herbs with stick blender, then add bacon and let set for at least an hour before serving. Warm a small amount in a sauce pan and pour it over fresh spinach, grated Grana Padano, sliced boiled egg for a perfect late winter salad.

Happy Valentine's Day 2011

2011-02-14T08:50:00.000-08:00

For the past 21 years, Karen has given me the same Valentines’ Day card. Yes, literally, the exact same card every February 14^th, the only difference is that with each passing year, a new note has been added that highlights the previous year. Each year I read back through everything written about our move to Nebraska, the birth of our kids, the purchase of our home, the opening of our restaurant, and this year, the battle with cancer. If the house ever catches fire, this card will be among the priceless treasure I would want to grab on the way out.

Being married twenty one years requires a blend of relational skill, luck and quite importantly, the ability to laugh at yourself. If you take things too seriously, you’re going to miss some great stories that you can share, like this one.

Two weeks ago on a Thursday morning, Karen and I were starting our morning together over coffee and conversation in our easy chairs, when she suggested we go see an afternoon movie. Since I had to work in the evening, and it was a day off for her, it seemed like a readymade opportunity.

The first movie she suggested was The King’s Speech, followed up by”…and I also want to see The Fighter.” Since I didn’t not consult the manual or call in the marshal for a ruling, the first suggestion was what I thought was our choice. She asked for my smartphone, looked up the show times and said, “Movie starts at 1:05pm” You might be able to see where this is going.

About twelve thirty, we got ready to leave the house, and decided to take two cars so I could go on to work afterward. I drove off downtown to get tickets while Karen finished getting ready. Just before I got to the ticket counter, my phone rang and it was Karen saying she can’t find her keys. By this time it’s 1:10pm.

It was agreed I would go on in and she would just buy her ticket when she got there. I got into the dark theatre just as the film was beginning and settled in by following the advice on screen and turned off the cell phone.

About 30 min in to the show, and no Karen. And being married 21 years, this has never happened, but it was not outside the realm of possibility. Worry was not my first response. Maybe she got distracted, still couldn’t find the keys or some other reason that would not surprise me. Don’t ask why I didn’t call or check my phone.

As the credits rolled, I see my lovely wife come around the corner, see me, and mouth these words…

THE FIGHTER!

You can fill in your own implied punctuation. But we had a really good laugh over it eventually.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Karen.

Current Inspirations

2011-02-06T09:28:00.000-08:00

If you know a cook, he or she probably has a collection of cookbooks on the shelf. If you are a partner to that cook, you probably wonder the need to have so many. Let me stand in defense.

Customers ask me all the time where I come up with so many ideas for our menu. As a professional cook, I suffer less from how to do something than I do in deciding what to make. To me, cookbooks are a good source of ideas, not so much for the detail of a particular recipe on how to make a particular dish, but more by way of personal thoughts penned by the author, the relationship of certain ingredients and how they work together, and especially at times, photos showing a finished product. I learn as much when I can visually see a plate than in reading the recipe about it.

I consider cookbooks a type of indirect one-way conversation with another chef or writer. I don’t have the chance to have a dialogue or ask a question, but I can at least hear what the author wants to say about his or her interest in a specific region, style of cuisine or time period. Below are a few that are on my counter in my professional kitchen upon which I turn on a regular basis for inspiration. I set them out front so you can peruse them if you like

Charcuterie: The Craft of Salting, Smoking, and Curing by Michael Ruhlman and Brian Polcyn

Easily considered the Meat Bible, authoritative yet easy to digest. Ruhlman is described as a “translator of the craft” and it is a more than accurate depiction of his role as an author. Charcuterie is my latest obsession in the kitchen, and I’ve learned more about it from this book than any other source. Much like when I was teaching myself to bake bread five years ago, the discoveries I am making are in direct relation to this book.

The Essential New York Times Cookbook: Classic Recipes for a New Century by Amanda Hesser

A hundred years of recipes, stories and histories of food as they were chronicled in the pages of The New York Times. It’s a fascinating study of how our food habits have changed over the years, and through it we can glean from classic ideas that might still work in our kitchen today.

Charcuterie and French Pork Cookery by Jane Grigson

I like older books like these, first published in 1969, because often they reveal long standing techniques. Grigson speaks of French housewives who regularly made confits, sauccisons, and salt cured meats as a normal part daily cooking. Juxtapose this picture with our home kitchens today where normal cooking means tossing a frozen burrito in the microwave. Grigson reveals a lost art and practice that inspires a revisit.

Sauces: Classical and Contemporary Sauce Making by James Peterson

I am fascinated by the regimen that classic French cooking required, and within that structure there was a singular role for one person, the saucier, whose only job was to make sauces, day in and day out. Vincent Robinson, saucier at the legendary Le Bernardin in New York, says his primary tools are ”a paring knife, chef knife, a steel, whisk, chinois and my spoons, that’s pretty much all I use.” A good sauce can make the difference between an average meal and a memorable one. I am putting more attention to sauce making and this tome is a gift toward that end.

Winner of our 1st Annual bread&cup Graphic Design Contest

2011-02-02T20:16:00.000-08:00

Congratulations to Jesse Vadnais, winner of our 1st Annual bread&cup Graphic Design Contest. Jesse wonderfully interpreted the logo, so much so, I thought I would print his words verbatim.

I wanted to create something that captured the essence of combining different elements of Bread and Cup with a feeling of simplicity and creativity. Because B&C is so many things in one I was hoping to capture the ampersand as the key focal point but still have it work as a connection between ideas. You'll notice that the image has a representation of wheat to be connected with the idea of bread and food along with capturing the natural ingredient choices used by B&C. You'll also notice a cup that obviously signifies the cup/drink aspect of B&C but it is also represented in a pouring out position that I hope can show B&C's commitment to pouring out into the community around them. Finally you'll notice the brackets at the bottom, these are often used to single out and make private however these are facing out. My hope is that this will signify B&C's openness to not only people coming in but also sharing time, conversation, and life with each other.

How Blue Man Group helped create bread&cup

2011-01-28T20:41:00.000-08:00

Ten years ago, I saw Blue Man Group in Las Vegas. They were just hitting their stride and making waves nationwide. But to a person, whenever I asked what the show was about, I would get the same puzzled look, followed a long pause, and usually ending up with saying, “I’m not really sure, but it was cool!”

One writer referred to it as the “omni-sexual Promise Keepers for the New Millenium,” which makes about as much sense as tits on a bull. Needless to say I had no idea what for what was in store for me.

The year 2000 found me in the midst of a dense fog, a time of personal disillusionment in need of clarity. Call it midlife crisis, call it depression, whatever label you put on it, I was not in a good place.

A glimpse of that clarity came in the middle of the show, when the stage went dark, and on the large, back screen came a flash of random question marks, lit in red LED lights, popping out here and there in the darkness. Soon the question marks became more frequent and eventually they started following in a line back and forth. Eventually the screen was filled with question marks, now moving in a steady flow from left to right, up and down. All I could see was a screen full of red.

At this point, a Blue Man came out, climbed a ladder and reached out for the screen. He pulled out of the moving rows of question marks, a small section, about 3 foot in length and showed it to the audience. The red question marks in his hand were still moving in sequence with the ones on the screen. He turned back, reached and grabbed another bar, now holding two bars full of red LED question marks.

I think I saw where this was going.

The Blue Man took these two bars and began to beat out a rhythm on a drum and I suddenly got chills.

Have these guys have been reading my mail?!?

The idea of moving ahead while still armed with questions and making something despite them was an epiphany. The dream of bread&cup was just forming, but I had more questions than answers. The Blue Men said to hell with your questions. Are you going to let them stop you from living your life?

My answer was no. And I have a thriving restaurant to prove it.

January Charcutepalooza Challenge - Duck Proscuitto

2011-01-25T16:38:00.000-08:00

This is the first of a monthly series of posts in conjunction with Chaructepalooza, a consortium of food bloggers devoting the year to a different meat preservation project each month. Click on the image to the right to read more about it.

When I found out about Charcutepalooza, I discovered I was a little late to the game, so I am determined to play catch-up before the next month’s challenge.

Month one in the series is duck breast prosciutto, a very easy cure to implement using only kosher salt as the curing agent. January in Nebraska is a good time to do these kinds of cures, because of our cold winters its easy to find a place to store them.

Since I own a restaurant, I decided to do six ducks, the breasts for the prosciutto,

use the leg and thigh as confit for the Saturday night menu,

and the livers for a mousse,

while the remainder of the carcass went to make rillettes and stock.

I love seeing the whole fowl get utilized this way. Very little waste and a whole lot of great food to result. Below are the little critters wrapped in their swaddling clothes, ready for a nice little nap.

I should have something to show in seven days, give or take.

Why stay open during a snow storm?

2011-01-22T07:31:00.000-08:00

The flakes started falling late Wednesday afternoon and created a soft, silent evening in more ways than one.

I served two tables all evening.

I could have seen it coming, called my staff and said stay home, but I’ve played too much craps to do anything other than stay open.

In craps, there are two types of opening bets. At the roll of the dice you either bet that the number will hit or that it won’t. It’s a simple game of chance, and the percentages never change. There is no magic to it. It shouldn’t matter on what line you place your money.

But it does. I’ve seen tables clear out when a guy starts betting the negative. The majority of players at any given table bet positively. Call it karma, good vibes or mojo. Participants simply want to associate with others whose success will be their own. The negative better wins while everyone else loses.

I never want to bet the don’ts when it comes to my business. I want to start everyday hoping and believing that it will be a great one. We used to use a phrase with our staff, “are you ready for the tour bus?” This was our signal to ask ourselves if we were ready to take on any challenges the day might bring.

Yes, I lost money on Wednesday, but I must remember that I am in the service industry. I serve food. I serve customers. I serve regardless of convenience. The people who live nearby and can access my restaurant on foot don’t care if its snowy. Rather, they are interested in getting served on a cold winter night, when a bottle of wine and charcuterie fits the bill.

I served two tables on Wednesday and know that because of hindsight. But the house won’t let you bet after the dice have been rolled. I want my money on the table when the number hits.

Winner, winner, chicken dinner.

So how is Karen doing?

2011-01-19T05:40:00.000-08:00

I get that question regularly and this morning realized I’ve not posted an update about her. But apply the “no news is good news” rule here and you’ve got a simple summary.

It’s been four months since treatment was completed. She has returned each month for regular blood labs, which show normal numbers. She feels good, looks good and is carrying on a normal life once again. We are in no way, out of the woods, but at this point in the game the doctor says it looks about as good as it can get.

Similar to how I felt about my dad’s recovery when he was near death; the days following were a gift and I tried receiving them as such. It made for nice Thanksgivings and meaningful Christmases. Setting the mind on what we have now, at this moment, is more settling than being fraught with worry about whether or not the cancer will come back. If it does, it does. I can’t change that fact. Instead, I can reach out, grasp the gift and enjoy it for as many or as few days that I have it.

There has been one burden to bear in the aftermath of treatment and that is the dilemma of hair and what to do with it. I know it doesn’t say this in the text of Scripture explicitly, but it must be implied somewhere that part of the curse handed down to woman in the Garden of Eden after the fall from grace was that she would hate her hair for the rest of her days. Maybe it’s just unique to my household and I don’t have a broad sampling of data, but in twenty years of marriage, my wife has never returned from the hairstylist liking her hairdo.

Being without hair for six months can be a blessing, at least that’s how I look at it. I’ve gone without for 15 years now. Even Karen noted that getting ready in the morning seems a breeze without having to deal with hair. But at the first sign of regrowth, Karen turned back for Egypt and set her sights on the gray follicles that were already causing a problem. Phasers were set to kill. An appointment was made, and the week-long debacle that follows wasn’t pretty.

As I’ve explained before, I would rather be happy than right, but the initial coloring job was a failure, to say the least. I had to speak up and deliver my verdict; what God was putting back in the scalp was a whole lot better than Loreal.

To make a long story short, there were three more attempts to alter the color, each to which I spoke my mind and would have rather had to deal with the repercussions of a cyst removal; at least I would have been administered pain meds. But I’m a man, I’m bald, what do I know?

Well, I know how to shave a scalp down to the nubs, and that’s what I did for Karen at the end of the week. The bad, fake color is gone and the nice, short salt and pepper look is returning. So if you see her, for my sake, please tell her the gray looks sophisticated, natural, and maybe even sexy. I don’t want another repeat of this story any time soon.

Starting the New Year Right - Part II

2011-01-10T06:29:00.000-08:00

Based on my previous blog entry, you say you want to take your personal pleasure more seriously? How does one go about doing this?

Start with eating.

It’s at this point I believe the practice of eating is more important than what you eat, because if you alter your eating habits, you will discover and become more aware of exactly what it is you are putting in your mouth.

If you get serious about your food, you will find out what food does for you. Do you eat for relief or for satisfaction? Is food used to silence the pangs of hunger and beyond, or is it a means of enjoying the gift of life and relationship with those dear to you? Doing the later requires discipline and self control. To know pleasure at its most satisfying level is at times to be able to wait for it. Instant gratification is at best a shallow pleasure. Patience and endurance plumbs new depths. There is no better opportunity to express this daily than through the simple act of eating.

Think of it as simple equation of mathematics. Taking more time to enjoy adds up to more enjoyment.

Consider these ideas to extend your eating pleasure.

Eat slowly. I probably sound like your mother, and she had a point, but it’s probably not the same as I am referring. Taking longer to eat allows you to savor food, develops your palette, and enables you to discover new flavors, textures and sensations. Gobbling down a sandwich leaves little time to know what's in that sandwich. By eating slowly you will notice when you get full and thereby give you a chance to respond to your body's natural weight control mechanism.

Cook something. The number one reason people don’t cook is not that they are too busy, but they don’t want to wait on the process. We make time for what we desire. If satisfying pleasure is your top priority, you’ll find it as you choose to discover the best means to getting there. Cooking involves ingredient selection, preparation, the waft of aroma through the house and the visual transformation of color and flavor by the added heat. Finding the enjoyment in this preliminary activity can extend the pleasure of food. It takes more time to make a meal than to eat it, so why not recognize the gratification in this step of the process?

Don’t eat in the car. There are times I find myself hungry as I leave work to drive back home, and instead of waiting I might choose to take something with me from the restaurant. As an act of discipline, I’ve chosen to wait until I get home instead of eating while driving. In this way I am less distracted behind the wheel, and I can enjoy my food more upon arrival.

Eat at a table, as opposed to eating over the sink, on the couch, in the car. Learn to sit, relax, and notice what your food tastes like. This is why I believe if you change HOW you eat, the quality of WHAT you eat will naturally improve.

Eat without a TV or other technologically generated noise. I love eating outside on my patio in the summertime, just to listen to the natural sounds of the air, to watch the squirrels chase each other through the ash tree in back, or hear the wind cutting through the tree tops. A connection with nature puts you in a better position to be connected with your food, and thus heightening your pleasure.

Our restaurant is a TV-free zone, not because we think they are evil, but how many places to eat can you list that don’t have constant visual clutter broadcast in your direction? There is a time for television and a time for food, and they don’t necessarily have to be in the same setting.

Abundance or Scarcity?

2011-01-08T04:27:00.000-08:00

Congratulations to Chef Travis and staff at Dish for topping the list on Jeff’s Top 5 in Friday’s Journal Star. As a restaurant owner, I know how difficult it is to coalesce a team of people for the purpose of creating great food and service, and then to do it consistently day after day, night after night. Travis has a reputation of being a hard working chef/owner, and you have to be in order to survive this business. I only wish I had the opportunity to dine there more often, but he works when I work and is closed when I’m closed.

Jeff listed other places besides his top 5, and maybe you notice it too, but I find it interesting that the list of local, independent restaurants is so short, especially for a town the size of Lincoln. We all have our theories as to why this is so, and could argue a valid point, but the fact remains; Lincoln’s food culture has opportunity to develop.

And opportunity it is. Rather than making lacking comparisons to Portland or Austin or Seattle, I like to focus on what we are, instead of what we are not.

With our heritage as an agricultural state, we’ve been known for growing food for the world. Why not turn that back around and direct it to our own table? In my three short years of having my doors open, the number of local growers with whom I am in contact has at least doubled. Local supply is a high value to me, and I can say that I am sourcing more meat, poultry, eggs, dairy and produce than ever before. It should only keep getting better.

I don’t look at a list like Jeff’s or the restaurants on it as competition. There aren’t enough of us to serve a city of over a quarter of a million people. His list could double this year and there would still be enough people to fill our respective establishments. Thankfully I enjoy a full dining room most weekend nights. Where would I put everyone if I felt like I should be the only one on the list?

Nebraska has plenty of land to grow great food, and Lincoln has more than enough room to grow a few more great, local restaurants.

Starting the New Year Right

2011-01-07T08:36:00.000-08:00

With every New Year comes the question of resolutions, which in my observation is often met with a reply of disdain and dismissal whenever I ask someone, “do you make resolutions?” I think the reason for this rejection is it represents another opportunity for failure. Why make a promise to do something if you know in your heart that you really won’t do anything about it?

I don’t have any statistics, but as a betting man, I would wager that most failed New Year’s Resolutions have something to do with exercise and weight loss. Funny how these two things will get mentioned by even the fittest of my friends. When the Distance Runner tells me he wants to shed a few pounds, I figure it’s just universal.

I know many of you don’t, but I do. I actually look forward to starting a new year with a clean sheet of paper and a chance to write out a list of improvements I’d like to make. Let me tell you what’s at the top of my list:

Take my pleasure much more seriously.

It’s a simple point I like to maintain, and it has to do with the fact that I am not that committed to experiencing pleasure in its most significant way.

But you might ask, “Isn’t this why I’m overweight? Because I eat too much, I drink too much, I lay on the couch too much, I’d rather watch movies than exercise…?” No, I would say we are all those things because we don’t take our own personal pleasure seriously enough.

Eating is one of our most basic, fundamental needs. It is on the low end of Maslow’s triangle. Without food, we don’t survive. We must eat to live, but in an age of abundance, our understanding of eating moves up the diagram.

The pace of our culture has kept the practice of eating on a less sophisticated level, treating it more as an act of refilling the fuel tank or reenergizing the batteries. Why else is the drive-thru such a popular feature in our modern American food traditions. You are in a hurry, the kids are hungry, you are hungry, so pull the car into a place that can quiet the pangs.

In this way, we eat for relief, not satisfaction.

In fact, I believe our problem with pleasure is that most of the time we pursue it in order to bring some type of relief, and not in a quest for a satisfying experience.

Does that second helping really satisfy? How about that gargantuan portion that you know you shouldn’t finish? Is that third and fourth glass of wine about honoring beauty or creating numbness? Are you including that hangover the next morning as a part of the overall glory of pleasure?

Pleasure for the sake of satisfaction takes into account all the potential side effects that accompany the act. Relief is only concerned with feeling better right now.

Maybe that’s why Mick couldn't find any.

How to deal with negative criticism: Anonymity

2010-12-29T08:48:00.000-08:00

I was in Radio Shack earlier this week to upgrade a phone and it was easy to see that the clerk behind the counter was getting a earful from an angry customer. As the conversation ensued, the clerk was getting visibly more upset. When the caller finally relented and hung up the phone, I told the clerk, “Don’t take it personally, you were just in the way.”

The guy on the phone chewing out the Radio Shack guy was likely getting something off his chest. Could be he was frustrated that the phone he ordered for his kid didn’t arrive before Christmas. Instead of being patient, he probably chose to make someone pay.

Nothing justifies rudeness, but when you broaden your perspective on such a matter, it makes you better equipped to deal with the situation. It becomes less personal.

There is a refuge in being anonymous. Anonymity provides a safety that allows us to say things we would never say to anyone face to face. When you are anonymous, you are not real, nor is that person you are reaming. How many people make fun of Justin Bieber that don’t even know the kid? But would the comedian tell the same jokes if that 16yr old was a friend of his own kid? Probably not, because JB would then be a real person, meriting different treatment.

When I get anonymous feedback, I don’t try to spend much energy deciphering who it might be from. I just assume that person is not real or that they are hiding behind that wall of anonymity that comes with the Internet. I get plenty of feedback from trusted sources that I know to help me improve and become a better restaurant. Just last week I got a valuable email from a faithful customer, who I know personally, outlining a couple of things that needed attention. Notes like this carry more weight with me than from someone blowing off steam.

How to deal with negative criticism

2010-12-28T06:24:00.000-08:00

I still remember the naïve shock I experienced when I read that first negative comment about my restaurant that was published out in the open, on the Internet, for the entire world to see. My pulse rate quickened, breathing shortened. It was all I could do to finish the statement, which can be summarized in three words; your place sucks.

If you are in the business of offering a product to the public at large, you will most certainly face the scrutiny of negative criticism. Whether you are a writer, artist, chef, mechanic, politician etc. there is going to be someone out there that you will not please and they will certainly let you know about it. When this happens to you, I offer a few thoughts to consider.

Embrace the sting. When you encounter feedback that puts you in a negative light, don’t immediately try to dismiss it with little sayings like, sticks and stones may break my bones but works can never hurt me. Nonsense. Yes they do hurt. They hurt because you have taken a risk to put something of yourself out on the market. When it gets rejected, it’s personal. It’s going to bug you.

If it doesn’t, I would begin to worry. It means you are on the way toward not caring, and becoming calloused. True craft requires vulnerability. Without it, you lose your edge as a creator. Your art is as much about those who appreciate it as you who create it. Can you imagine a chef who makes great food but never serves it? If you see an angry chef, I will wage a bet that he or she is also a wounded chef.

Learn from it. Maybe the negative comment has an element of truth in it. Was the food cold? The service slow? If so, find out why and solve that problem. Don’t just dismiss the critic as an asshole without first looking to see if he has a point.

It may have nothing to do with you. I remind my service staff that when they encounter a grouchy customer, to remember that this person came in grouchy. We didn’t make them that way. Maybe it was an argument with the boss, or getting a parking ticket, or a chronic headache that won’t go away. I just happened to serve as a target for that person to unload their frustration. If I get a comment written in all caps, I just assume there is more to the story than serving the wrong sandwich.

It happens to the best of them. If I get a series of bad comments, it only takes a minute to look at other popular restaurants on Yelp and see that they get ripped too. This is the nature of the game.

The Internet gives permission to anyone to speak, but it doesn’t judge. That’s your job.

The Problem with a Concept Like Ours….

2010-12-22T20:07:00.001-08:00

Every coin has two sides. All good movies have a hero and a villain. And every good relationship has its strong points and weaknesses.

The same is true for good ideas.

We've built our concept around fresh, handmade simple food and drink. This means we start from scratch, every day, with bread. It is our core idea and ideal. We believe that if you pay attention to something as pedestrian as bread, and make it great, then all the other details fall into place.

But we must take a gamble in this venture, which banks on a belief that the amount of bread we make in the morning will be adequate to serve the customer throughout our 15 hr business day. Sometimes we win, sometimes we lose.

Imagine the embarrassment when we have to tell a customer we are out of bread

Out of bread!?! And you call yourself BREAD&cup?

If we were not committed to making everything from scratch, we could easily step into a walk-in, thaw out another loaf or bag of buns, and be on with our evening's menu, but we don't have that convenience.

I'm not changing what we do, rather only trying to help the masses understand their frustration when they show up as they did last night and found we had no burger buns. That's because we were busier than we've ever been on a Tuesday night, and our gamble that morning didn't pay off.

These are good problems to have.

New Year's Eve at bread&cup

2010-12-22T07:36:00.000-08:00

New Year’s Eve

bread&cup

Friday, December 31^st

Three courses with opening cocktail – 40 dollars per person

Cocktail

Sangria

Sparkling Wine

Starter

Maytag Blue Cheese & Caramelized Leek Brulee

Frisee Salad with Warm Bacon Dressing

Main

Cultiva Coffee Crusted Beef Tenderloin

Roasted Chicken

Veal Cordon Bleu

Lamb Two Ways

Dessert

Maple Custard with Spiced Shortbread

Vanilla Bean Eggnog & Rum

18 Layer Crepe Cake with Dulche de Leche {pictured below}

Scroogie McGrincherson

2010-12-20T06:43:00.000-08:00

When the question gets posed, “Are you ready for Christmas?”, I find I don’t really know how to answer that one anymore. I think it’s because Christmas has taken on new meaning for me now in this middle stage of life.

I think it’s partly due to the fact that I want Christmas to stay the same as I remember it, with the magic of the season, the agony of waiting in anticipation, the vast variety of lights that a little boy was fascinated by. I can remember lying under the tree looking up at all the colors with a glow of nothing other than what can be described as pure happiness. I think this is why I felt a twinge of loss when Karen called me one day and asked me if she should “just go get the tree?” What once was a seasonal family outing had now become one more box to check off the To-Do list.

But nothing can grow if it doesn’t change, and change is the transformation that keeps getting harder to accept as the years go by.

Change is inevitable, so the question becomes not whether we will allow it, but if we will welcome it. If we don’t embrace the oncoming changes with the seasons of life, we get grouchy and irritable. In short, we become the Grinch.

The metamorphosis the Grinch experienced finally came when he saw Christmas for what it was and not for what it wasn’t.

If I had a dollar for every time my Dad said to me, “Son, you’ve got two choices; you can take it or leave it.” I’d be a spending the holidays in the Bahamas every year.

I may not have the power to prevent change, but I do possess the power to choose what I do with it. The glass is either half full or half empty. This little litmus test has stood the test of time.

All I Ever Get For Christmas is Blue

2010-12-11T06:34:00.000-08:00

I was talking with The Future the other day about Christmas music and our discussion led to bands that feel the need to make a Christmas CD and how often these kinds of albums don’t seem to measure up to anything else the band had recorded. I asked him if he had ever heard of Snow Angels by a group called Over The Rhine. His immediate response was, “Well, that’s not really fair to include them in this list.”

What he meant was, it’s a little like stacking the card deck, or pitting men against boys. It’s just not like all the rest.

I just recently discovered Snow Angels this year, even though it is a 2007 release from OTR. I can easily say I have no other Christmas recording like it. The only downside I can think of is that I might listen to it too much and thereby lose some of its savor.

Christmas is thought of as a happy time of celebration. All the commercial images we see portrayed are happy people shopping for gifts to make people even happier. The food you serve makes you and your loved ones happy. We want it to be this way, but the reality of the holiday doesn’t always deliver that same end result.

Snow Angels has a way of expressing this darker side without being morose, despondent or hopeless. It allows you to acknowledge the emotion of loneliness that comes from being without a loved one during the holiday, while not encouraging you to wallow in pity. It says that sorrow from loss is natural, because that person meant something. It does something very few works of art can do; it encourages you, in the Words of Solomon, to grasp one and not let go of the other. To hold joy in one hand, and grief in the other is very difficult to do, if not near impossible.

My Christmas this year finds me tussling with these kinds of juxtaposed feelings. I hold the ugliness of Karen’s cancer in one hand, and the relief of her recovery in the other. I grip the sadness of a boy leaving for college, and at the same time, clutch the hope of a young man growing to maturity to change his world. I hang on to the quietness of the house during this season, while not letting go of the memories of children who daily took inventory of the presents under the tree, waiting eagerly for the day they could tear into the wrapping.

Listening to Snow Angels offers me the opportunity to survey both sides of my story, to reach out and embrace either side at will. The road up to the mountain leads through the valley. It can’t be circumvented, try as I may.

The Security of Treatment

2010-12-07T06:26:00.000-08:00

It’s been nine weeks since the last dose of chemotherapy and I’ve shed more tears in this span than the full duration of our ordeal. It’s what I’m calling the security of treatment.

When you find yourself in the midst of a battle, you have certain defenses that kick into gear. The mind wants to ensure survival, so it moves to the lower levels of Maslow’s triangle and sets up camp. It’s why guys can endure such horrific conditions in the military, only to return home and not be able to carry on normal life. Dealing with extremes becomes easier than the mundane.

Never would I say I want to go back to relive the last six months. I am saying that there is a new transition for which I was not prepared and I am trying to adjust and get my head on straight again.

Taking control of a situation is a natural human reaction. If the house is a mess, one can wrestle it back into order. If you have a headache or stiff neck, there is aspirin for that. There is a realm we all can control, but our control has its limits, and this truth must be accepted if we are to live a healthy, sustained life.

At the discovery of the disease, Karen told me she was glad it happened to her instead of me, because if it was the other way around, she would be a nervous wreck. She felt in this way she at least has some kind of control of her responses and reactions. Being the bystander, I know exactly what she meant. I feel powerless to only watch.

This is why the season of treatment had a form of security attached to it. We had rules of engagement set before us; six sessions, one every three weeks, medication prescribed, signs to watch for, actions to take, with one goal attached—beat the disease.

Been there, done that, checked those boxes. What’s next?

What’s next is moving back out into the open spaces of living life with this new component of uncertainty attached to it. It’s always been there, and it always will be there. There is no removal of it. You have as much of it in your world as I do, cancer or no.

Gawd, look at all that food...

2010-12-01T06:44:00.000-08:00

From a recent Journal Star article on portion size:

http://journalstar.com/entertainment/dining/article_a26c5793-adf1-593a-876d-6bf7f65aa802.html

It’s an interesting dilemma, this portion size debate, because no one usually gets angry if they have too much food on the plate. Some of our most heated comments online have come from people complaining about the size of our servings and how they could get twice as much food for half the price at another location and they will never come back and they will tell all their friends to never eat here again and so on.

Have at it.

So do you give people what they want or what you think they need?

This is s a tricky question, because when you start asking this one, you start blending the ingredients of morality and politics into your food.

I’m a chef, not a politician. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about the question. I’d rather leave the political side to the experts.

My role in the debate is to argue my point of view at the restaurant and present the evidence on the table. If you can’t tell the difference at this level, I’m not sure what else I can do. I believe in a free market, and if you like eating off a platter instead of a plate, with portions that can be measured in pounds instead of ounces, it’s your right. It’s just not my preference.

I don’t really know what to do about it other than hope that our culture will someday come to its senses and realize that more is not always equivalent with better, and that the added bonus of extra pounds isn’t really a good payoff for a plateful of food that can easily feed three people.

Restaurant tools that work at home - The Deli Cup

2010-11-26T05:58:00.000-08:00

When I got married twenty years ago and went through the ritual of registering at the local department store, I had no idea that you could put a list together for people to use to select your wedding gift. I guess I understood the practice in theory, but had never been on the receiving end of the tradition.

That stated, I found that I still had very little say on what went on the list. I distinctly remember lusting after a line of cookware that resembled something one might find in the tool department at Sears; strong, heavy, riveted handles, something that my grandchildren would likely cook with, if home cooking is still around in 40 years. If it had the name Craftsman pounded into the steel, I may have pushed my case a little harder. But I wanted to get married more than I wanted high quality cookware, so we put the prettier set on the list. What did make it on the list from my recommendation was a pizza pan, which I still have, and one white towel, which I think has become an oil rag or dust cloth or both. This is the subject of another blog entirely, so I won't delve into the bit about the towel here.

I must add that someone did get us the pretty set, which we still have, but its not so pretty any longer, and while it still does not proffer me any sort of "I told you so..." status, it has given me a bit of credibility when I try and bring the professional element into our home kitchen.

Enter the Deli Cup

Tupperware falls into the "pretty" category, just like the tea towels that are appliquéd with the 12 days of Christmas that hang over the oven door handle. They look nice, but as soon as you put them in competition with something hot or greasy, their usefulness has come to an inevitable end sooner than you would like. This is to say nothing about the chastisement you will receive amidst the head and shoulders for ruining the holiday ornament you thought was a towel

(smoked tomatoes & zucchini)

The most ubiquitous item in our kitchen is the humble one quart deli cup. We buy these by the case and use them literally for soup to nuts and to store everything else imaginable.

(granola packaged for sale)

I recommend getting your home cook a sleeve of these babies with corresponding lids and watch how much more organization will naturally occur, unless of course your home cook has slob etched into his or her DNA, for which there is no known cure.

(they make nice spice containers)

They are cheap, reusable, disposable after a while and you never have to fumble around looking for the right lid, or ask yourself why you have 7 lids to containers that don't exist. It's a simple system; one container, one lid, less to think about.

That for which we are thankful

2010-11-23T20:10:00.000-08:00

She’s got that Sinead O’Connor look going; short hair that looks cropped and intentional and not so much as a victim of chemotherapy. Eyebrows have started growing back, as have the eyelashes and, she will kill me for writing this, the other undesirable hairs that women hate to contend with. Things are slowly getting back to normal.

But normal remains a relative term these days. Dealing with her cancer, watching a son moving off to college and unleashing an overachieving daughter that spends more time at activities than at home now, Karen and I find ourselves wondering what’s next. If included in the next phase is spending the day on the couch watching football all day Sunday with the dog on our lap, as we did today, that will be a nice change of pace.

Monthly blood analysis will be required for the next year, per recommendation of her doctor. He feels that the cancer marker in her blood stream is a reliable source of information, and if in the event that the cancer does re-emerge, he will see the warning signs early. We remain grateful for the prognosis, and it is at the top of our list at this Thanksgiving holiday.

Still, it’s odd to look back on this year and make sense of all that has happened. What did we actually walk through? How will we be different as a result?

I think some questions are meant to be asked and some are better left alone. This may seem like a cop out, until you are faced with many of the unanswered kind, you realize how much energy is spent trying to find a solution to an equation that most likely will never be solved.

Is it over? What will happen next? Will the cancer come back? Why did it happen in the first place?

I can’t answer these, but there are a couple I can.

What has happened? What will I do about it?

I’m not the one who physically possesses the disease, but anyone who has a loved one affected by it, it becomes yours nevertheless. I, too, have choices.

I don’t know why cancer happens, but I do know that it doesn’t have to define me. It might mark me, scar me or even cripple me, but doesn’t mean it will ruin me.

Restaurant tools that work at home

2010-11-23T08:44:00.000-08:00

I remember when I first saw a Danish dough whisk, I thought it had been used to clean out the garbage disposal while it was still running, but when I found its usefulness, its become one of my favorite tools in the kitchen.

I'm using it here to stir risotto, but also use it for polenta, potatoes, or other food with thick, batter-like consistencies. We use it to mix our sourdough starter each day. The design allows for adequate mixing without getting caked up and leaving more on the whisk than in the bowl.

If you have a cook on your Christmas shopping list, check and see if one of these is not in his or her utensil drawer.

I'd like to split those, please...

2010-11-21T08:30:00.000-08:00

I found myself paying for my trip to Denver in more ways than one this week. Taking the train out there seemed like a good idea, but when you roll back into town at 4am, get a couple hours of sleep and have to face an already overloaded week, Sunday could not come fast enough.

The common layman would not be aware of this, but an obscure amendment to Murphy’s Law states that upon return from said vacation, some form(s) of equipment is(are) required to break down, and thus seeming to serve as a type of punishment for your absence. I was in full compliance with this law Wednesday night when my dishwasher emerged from the dish pit holding the sprayer arm to the sanitizer in one hand, while displaying a cross-eyed look on his face. This was followed by my lead server telling me the POS system just went down. My tank was already on E, so I had no energy to do anything other than laugh internally, and wave the emotional white flag on the inside.

In business, you often are forced to make decisions based on what seems best under the current circumstances and hope you’ve made the right choice. I bought most of my kitchen equipment used, much of it sourced on eBay, because the market contains so much liquidated from failed attempts. Why pay for a brand new refrigerator, when I can get a year old model for one fourth of the price. But that damn dishwashing unit I purchased was brand new, under the thinking that with no unknown story of previous use, it might be more reliable. Nay. I’ve spent more money keeping that stupid thing running over the years than any other piece. I now know why the repairman shows up wearing a new watch.

I think we all would like some kind of guarantee that we we’ve done the right thing and will not face regret only days after the original transaction was made. Consumer Reports plays to this phobia, along with BizRate, CNET, and a whole slew of other comparative sites. We want to know the best option out there in hopes that we can rest assured that my coffeemaker is the top of the line, or that my BlueRay player is out in front of all the others, or that the thousand dollars spent on that laptop computer won’t soon turn into seventeen hundred dollars because the monitor went out and needed to be replaced and I foolishly didn’t get the extended warranty.

Fear lurks around every tree, waiting to pounce on the best laid plans.

Watch for it at BestBuy, when you buy your kid that Wii he’s been asking about. The dude in the blue shirt will upsell you the insurance policy with some fancy name like a “peace of mind” guarantee or “consumer protection package.” And you nervously contemplate, "should I do it or should I not?" The Suits and Moustaches in the corporate office know how your mind works, and they stand to make a few bucks off your insecurity.

My point is not to bash these options, but merely to remind myself that sometimes they work, and sometimes they don’t. I have one on my wife’s car, and it’s already paid for itself. I found paperwork in a file from ten years ago, showing that I bought “stain guard protection” for my couch and chair that now have a slip cover on it. I’m not even sure how that one was supposed to work? It’s not like splitting 8’s. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t

I remember a piece of advice given to me as a college kid; don’t worry about making the right decision. Instead, make your decision and make it right. Spend time doing the research, but once you’ve decided, tell yourself you made the right call and move on.

It will make your return from vacation a bit more tolerable

Inspiration = the drawing in of air, as in breathing

2010-11-15T15:55:00.000-08:00

I’m in Denver this week drawing air into my soul by eating creative food and talking with fellow chefs about their craft. Creative inspiration is akin to being physically inspired. No breath means no life. We can submerge ourselves only for so long without coming up for air.

It would seem a luxury to take four days away for the sole purpose of eating and thinking about food. I didn’t really start to relax until this morning, when I realized that I better settle down or I will have wasted a prime opportunity. So as an introvert should, I spend several hours today clearing my head with silence and reflection.

I visited the good folk at Savory Spice Shop, the place I usually order spices from over the Internet. The pictures and descriptions on their site are well put, but there is no substitute for the aroma of a mixture of dozens of different herbs, spices and seasonings to prompt an idea for a dish or entrée. Expect to see a Lemongrass Curry Sausage on the menu soon. The freeze dried sweet corn kernels should work with Chicken Liver Pate, Sage and Maple Syrup on Crostini. I’ve yet to decide what to do with Grains of Paradise, but the profile was so unique, I could not walk out without taking some home.

Chef Nelson Perkins at Colt and Gray have created a beautiful setting for some very sound, classically inspired food. If I told you the humble Frisse Salad with Poached Egg would be one of the most memorable of the evening, it is not an indictment on the quality of the other dishes. There is a reason it has been on the menu since their beginning fourteen months ago. Chef Nelson understands the impact of making a drastic career change, and I could not help filter my experience at his restaurant through those lenses. And it’s nice to know that they also wish for more seating and a larger refrigerator.

Euclid Hall is about as smart a concept as I can imagine. Extremely well thought through, all the way down to their use of the story of the 1883 building in which the restaurant is located. If anyone ever asks me what a gastropub is, I should just hand them their menu and let it speak for itself. Their motto, Crafted, Not Cranked Out, can be tasted on the plate. I love meeting people who are dedicated to handmaking everything, even feeling the need for four different types of mustard. On leaving, I told the chefs they were doing the Lord’s work. I think they got what I meant.

How to leave a job

2010-11-15T05:39:00.000-08:00

Six years ago this month I had the hard conversation with my director of fifteen years, telling him that I was planning on leaving my job to pursue the dream of opening a restaurant. It was difficult, in part because we had worked together for so many years, but also because of the friendship and camaraderie that had developed, plus the memories of great and sorrowful moments, as well as the understanding of the task he would face in replacing me.

I wanted to leave well, which is why I planned on a seven month exit strategy. I did my best to work doubly hard to ensure a good transition and not leave in a hurry. I wanted to be missed. I did not want it to be seen as a relief that I was gone.

Entrepreneur, if you are planning on becoming your own boss, if you are ready to set out on the road toward seeing your dream come true; let me offer some advice that will serve when you find yourself further down that road.

How you leave is how you begin. I remember seeing this in the churches I’ve been involved in over the years. People usually leave a church because they are mad about something. They don’t like the way the pastor preaches. They don’t like the kids program. The youth director doesn’t show your kid enough attention. So folks would leave and go to another church in town, or in the extreme, start their own church so they could do it right. Churches that were started in this kind of anger became angry churches.

The principle applies to any organization. Is your business a response to a need in the market, or is it a reaction to something against the market. The guy that hates Starbucks needs to be aware of this bias as he opens his own neighborhood coffee shop. Is his business model something fresh, new and original or is it just anti-Starbucks? Reactionary effort rarely translates into long term success.

Don’t burn any bridges. As a small business owner, you are going to need all the help and support you can get, especially when the going gets tough, when you’re not sure how you are going to make payroll and you are discouraged to the point of sleeplessness and you wonder if you made the biggest mistake of your life in opening this business. The broader your network, the better your chances are of building a strong reputation and relying on that network in time of need.

Remember what got you to this point. Five years ago, when my dad died, I began his eulogy with this statement:

It took a while, as it does for most youth, to realize that the vistas of the world I was seeing was a direct result of the shoulders I was standing on

As an idealistic young kid, I was eager to move away from home and strike out on my own and prove I had what it takes to be somebody. Little did I know that I would take with me the wisdom, values and horse sense modeled for me by my father. I was a product of my family and I didn’t realize it until later.

I continue to peel back layers and uncover evidence of influence my dad has had on me. When the faucet on the handwashing sink began leaking this week, I knew it most likely needed a new rubber washer on the valve seat, but further investigation revealed a stripped brass stem which also needed replaced. Karen asked me how I knew what to do, and I told her, “I am Jack’s son.”

My former boss and I still have coffee from time to time. I see him in my restaurant and we can easily pick up where we left off. Our work is different now, but our commonalities still remain

It needs a bit more salt

2010-11-11T05:26:00.001-08:00

Cooking is all about balance, and while you may not have the most balanced person behind the stove cranking out your entrée, you would not want to finish your meal without it. Fat is balanced with acid. Bitter keeps sweet from taking over. And the right amount of salt keeps flavor from being too bland or inedible.

And beyond the kitchen, life demands a certain level of balance. The Chinese call it yin and yang. Darkness is countered with light, heat with cold. You can't have one without the other.

Being an entrepreneur is also a balance of two extremely important qualities. Both have their place in the business. Both work against each other to keep each other from running off either side of the road.

I'm speaking of pride and humility.

You'll never make it in the business if you don't have that little voice in your head that says "you've got what it takes." You have no reason trying to serve food if you don't think you can do it just a little bit better than the next guy. It's pride that makes you get up a little earlier, stay a little later, or work on that technique at home or after hours. Pride makes you edgy with your staff after that poor online comment someone made, even though an idiot wrote it. Pride says, "I got game."

But without the opposing force of humility, that game is gonna go sour just like the gallon of milk you left out on the counter; quickly and such a waste.

Pride says you're good at what you do. Humility reminds you you're still human.

Pride makes you critical of your competitors. Humility tells you to keep your mouth shut.

Pride needs humility to keep you from being an asshole.

Humility needs pride to keep you in the game.

The Secret Ingredient

2010-11-08T06:04:00.000-08:00

My wife pointed out to me how much I seemed to enjoy handing out candy to the kids at Halloween, but that I wouldn’t admit it. I asked her to explain and she described how quickly I got up out of my seat and went to the door, and how I got down on my knees to kid level and asked each kid about the costume and why he or she chose to be that character, and when they left and I returned to my seat on the couch, I had a smile on my face.

I didn’t realize it was that obvious.

It’s difficult for the face to lie.

Anne sent me a link to the photo gallery from the October 3^rd Emerging Terrain dinner held in Omaha, an event some of you only recently found out about, and wondered why I didn’t do more publicity in Lincoln. My answer is it sold out so quickly, further advertising was not necessary.

A picture is worth a thousand words and the two hundred plus photos had plenty to say, but one word seemed to ring loud and clear.

Happy.

From the chefs to the servers to the participants and everyone in between, try and count how many smiles you see. Even if you did not attend, from the photos alone you can easily understand the pathos of the event.

I love this about the potential of food to unite and satisfy. But it does not cook itself. Without passionate, caring people, a memorable meal would not happen. From the simplest setting for two, to the magnitude of this outdoor event, love is the indispensible ingredient.

Any act of love carries with it a risk. You’ll know love is involved in your meal when the person who prepared it takes the risk to set it in front of you and stays close enough to see your reaction.

This vulnerability sets apart the best from the rest.

I am planning a trip to Denver next week for the purpose of eating for inspiration. I’m looking for chef-owned places from which I can glean a few ideas. If you have any suggestions for me, I welcome them.

The Push

2010-11-01T04:33:00.001-07:00

Professional cooking is physical work. If you're in it, you know full well what this means. If you are thinking about getting in to it, you have to understand this so you know what's coming. Especially if you own your own place, you will be called on to perform duties that seem above and beyond your capabilities at the moment. I refer to times like these as The Push.

The push is that moment you realize you have a choice to either put your head down, plow forward and get it done, or just look for a way of escape and whine to anyone nearby who will hear you. Last week was a week full of push, starting Monday, when my baker called my cell phone at 5am saying he was violently ill and could not safely make it through his shift. Disruptions like this are not uncommon as a small business owner. I had two jobs to do that day; mine and his. But just as there is no crying in baseball, there is no crying in the kitchen. The only option is get up, get going, and get it figured out.

I prefer to create. I don't like to repair. This is probably my biggest frustration as an entrepreneur. The two worst things you can say to me is, "We're out of___" and "The ___ is broken." Just fill in the blanks with any food item or piece of equipment, respectively, and you get the idea. It wears me out to constantly worry about the maintenance of the ship instead of being concerned with where the ship is headed. But I don't get that luxury on my small dinghy. I plan for it to change and believe in time it will, but until then, it's up to me to ensure I've done everything possible to keep the boat afloat. I've had to learn to push.

As an undergraduate major in Exercise Science, I studied the basic Principle of Overload, which states that if an athlete is ever going to improve in speed, strength or endurance, that athlete's mind and body must be periodically subjected to bouts of exertion that exceeds what it perceives as normal. To put it simply, you will never run a marathon without conditioning yourself with hundreds of miles in trainings. You will never get faster without more sprint work. You will never increase your bench press without pumping more weight.

But it also applies outside of athletics, because the principle is transferable across the lines of discipline. You want to be smarter? Read more? You want to play guitar better? Do daily finger exercises and scales. You want to be a better cook? Cook more. End of story.

But during those times of overexertion, there will come a point you are not sure you can get it done, not going to make it, not going to cross the finish line. This is the moment you've got to push, take a deep breath, and push some more. Here's what I tell myself during these challenges:

I've done it before. I've run three marathons in my lifetime, none of which I would call easy. During two of them I developed a severe pain early in the race, one in my foot and the other in my gut. The common denominator was not my finishing time, but that I finished them all. It wasn't pretty, but I did it and you can't take that away from me. When I need a push, I mentally re-run one of those marathons.

Others have it harder than me. When I burn myself on the stove or my feet are killing me from standing on them all day, I think of others who would wish for the ability to stand and walk. I think of our young soldiers at war, doing a job that risks their lives. It is then I am reminded that I don't have it so bad.

This, too, will pass. Every race has a finish line. Every day has a sunset. Every season has a turning. Do the hard work now. Reap the reward afterward.

Charlie bit me…

2010-10-27T06:53:00.001-07:00

The Internet has had such an influence on our daily lives, its hard sometimes to recall what it was like to not have Google's instant information search, Facebook's ability to reconnect you everyone you didn't know you wanted to reconnect with and thought you wanted to forget, and YouTube's instant viral celebrity phenomenon.

The Internet has created new protocols, many of which I am uneducated. Are you supposed to follow everyone that follows you on Twitter? What am I supposed to tweet about: the weather, what I am eating, or resending the latest video link? I'm hesitant to retweet anything for fear that it might be old news. How embarrassing to find out that the link you thought was funny is already a month old and has 95,000 hits.

A random picture of a camping trip posted on Facebook gets over 450,000 comments. Statements made by a cranky old man have over 1.1 million fans and has now spun off into a TV show. We could keep going with a long list of dancing videos or popping back zits or some kid auto-tuning the news, and end up with an extensive compliation.

Everyone seems to want their 15 minutes, regardless if it's streaking across a football field or making cakes that resemble Arnold Schwarzenegger.

It's easy to mistake popularity for substance and recognition for importance.

I have only a handful of food-related shows I enjoy watching. It's a short list and seems to grow even shorter as the competition motif undergoes continual mitosis and mutates into something far different from the original. The episodes keep getting more ridiculous and the participants even more unstable. Whoever that cat was on Top Chef Just Desserts that melted down like cheese under a salamander and wanted his mommy, no thanks. Not interested in that kind of drama. But it doesn't seem to matter if you're crazy, arrogant or demeaning. If it attracts more eyeballs, that seems to be the point.

I wonder when our appetite for celebrity will diminish and bid us opportunity to reconnect with substance. The more popular a person becomes, the further away that person moves from the people that really matter most.

Even the figures I admire in my profession; if I were to ever get the chance to meet Anthony Bourdain or Thomas Keller, would I have anything in common with them, or be able to carry on a conversation about anything other than books and TV shows? I appreciate their books and TV shows, but when it comes down to what really matters, it won't be with people I know from a distance.

I appreciate the feedback I get from my writing, and the emails from folks around the country who have stumbled upon my restaurant and tell me how much they enjoyed the food and staff, but I don't live for those words as much I do from the people I know, and who know me personally. These conversations will never get multiple hits or go viral. Instead they will stay small, hidden and intimate.

And this is what matters.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

2010-10-25T12:53:00.001-07:00

I now have a son in college and thankfully he is asking the question, "What am I going to do with my life?" I told him better now than later, but not to worry too much about the specifics, but instead focus on learning who you are, then the specifics will become clearer.

In high school, I was counseled to become an engineer or architect, because these were respectable fields with jobs that provide good income and security, and like a lemming, dove into math and science classes my first year of college. I hated every minute of it because it had less to do with ability and more to do with lack of interest. I could not see myself designing bridges or heating systems. As soon as discovered this, I walked down to the administration office and changed my major from Architectural Engineering to Exercise Science. A burden was lifted and the remaining four years of college had a sense of direction.

So how did I get from Exercise Science to Executive Chef? Good question.

It took forty years of learning who I am before I had the thought and courage to move that direction.

Knowing what you want to do is not as important as knowing what it is you actually and naturally do. Professions change, personality and character do not.

I like to create. What I make has changed over the years from a garden to music to food.

I like to take care of people. I've done that through counseling, teaching and now job creating.

I enjoy the process of idea to finished product. My first job out of college allowed me to conceive the idea of a mid-winter 5K road race that turned into an annual affair. My current job provided the chance to turn a mental concept for a restaurant into an actual place that you can eat and enjoy.

What I do changes. Who I am does not.

Why you may want to think about going into the food business

2010-10-18T15:29:00.001-07:00

I recently came out from under my rock and discovered Daniel Pink, an author of a few books that I might eventually deem as important. It could be too early to tell, but if I'm right, I'll have this post as proof five years from now that I recognized the significance of his thinking.

Two books in specific are A Whole New Mind and Drive. Here Pink points out three factors with which any business owner must contend if he or she is to be successful in the days ahead. He says if you can outsource it to India, or if a computer can do it faster, and if there is no demand for your product in an age of abundance, you are pretty much destined for failure. In other words, if someone else can do it cheaper and faster and nothing sets you apart from all the other dogs in the hunt, it might be time to start looking at a different business model.

My friend Denny, a regular weekend customer, was the first person to point me to Pink's writing. One Saturday morning in the course of our conversation, he jotted down the name Daniel Pink on the back of his business card and strongly encouraged me to get my hands on one of his books. He told me he could see what Pink was talking about through our restaurant, and so I put a copy on hold at the local public library. And yes, I am fascinated by what I am reading.

Food is one product that is not going to be served to you via computer from a telecommunicator in India. And granted, there are lots of options for places to eat, all are not created equally with design fully in mind. Our culture is glutted with impersonal, meaningless and downright awful choices when it comes to how we feed ourselves, and I believe we are coming to a place of epiphany as we realize what we've been missing.

Design is the marriage of utility with significance. How a product, system or manufactured good is designed is given credence and has much more importance today than ever before. My parents' generation cared mainly of function. Appearance and style were secondary. They didn't care as much about how something looked or felt. They only wanted it to work, work properly and last a long, long time.

You and I are now living in a different time period. We have moved further up Maslow's hierarchy. We ask different questions, and we seek different answers. It's why we change jobs and careers so much. In short, we are looking for meaning and we are willing to make assumptions about financial security in order to find it.

We find that meaning in the things we buy. Why else would Jeep be promoting their vehicles by boasting that "the things we make, make us." Don Draper would not have used that line to pitch a car to my dad.

My joy in being a chef is reconnecting people to something so very basic, and reintroducing food to a generation now, that 50 years ago, would not be quite so impressed. Grandma made her own bread and of course she cooked everything slow. It's not rocket science, son. What would she think about her daily chore that has now become an industry of celebrity and stardom?

Our future opportunity with food is blue sky, and if you have the gift, you might want to think seriously about spreading your wings and flying there.

on being labeled a Food Snob

2010-10-12T07:31:00.000-07:00

I try to hide it as best I can, but it’s akin to asking a Husker fan to sit quietly through the upcoming Saturday afternoon matchup with Texas. If you are keenly interested in the outcome, it would be difficult to respond otherwise.

This interest I’m talking about is dining out at a restaurant.

Since becoming a restaurant owner, my dining experiences have changed. I have become more aware of what I eat and the environment in which I am served. It is difficult to turn off the evaluative mode and simply eat and enjoy without scrutiny, but such is the plight of one’s passion. That in which we are extremely interested evokes an equivalent response. Don’t think of it as judgment. Instead, view it as an indicator of a strength that might need continued development.

That friend of yours who points out spelling or grammatical errors might have a gift as an editor. The person who is always noticing and commenting on furniture and color schemes could be because of an eye for interior design. The same could be true for the friend who seems critical of film, drama or photography. It may point to a passion that needs an outlet for expression.

Being immersed in the culinary world, I find myself constantly thinking about food, and not just in the interest of consumption. I am curious about sourcing and where you get your ingredients. I want to know where you buy your meat and how you prepare it. Tell me about your influences and your cooking technique. Explain why you are excited about tonight’s menu.

Is this too much to ask?

In some cases, yes, because these things don’t seem to matter. This is why I am not very interested in eating at a restaurant that trucks in their food from a centralized kitchen or where the cook opens a premade box of frozen jalapeno poppers and dunks them in a vat of hot oil. I don’t have anything against jalapeno poppers, but I do appreciate knowing that you bought them from a local farmer, and stuffed them with fresh herbed goat cheese and battered them with house made bread crumbs and served them with a hand-whipped lemon aioli made with a couple of farm eggs.

If you don’t see what the big deal is, this explains my point exactly.

I don’t think of myself so much as a food snob, but rather as one who is highly interested in food. Call me a fan, much like the guy who paints his face red and wears his Herbie overalls this weekend and gets his mug on ESPN. The dude is into his game and I don’t want to deny him that pleasure.

The First Finish Line

2010-10-07T06:12:00.001-07:00

Karen had her final treatment this week on Tuesday, crossing the finish line for the run of six that was originally prescribed. We now wait to see if her body has responded favorably to the medicine, of which her oncologist said 80% of women do. Here’s to hoping she is not in that 20%.

Reflecting back on the beginning of this story, I recall the shock and pain that came with the words, “you have cancer.” At that point I knew we had been handed something that we did not want, but could not return. This would be a new chapter of our lives that would have one of several possible outcomes, with the basic delineation being a favorable or a devastating one.

And we still don’t know, nor will we know for quite some time. The prognosis of the oncologist right now appears good. He seems to think that Karen is doing very well. All her blood tests show normal numbers. The cancer marker gives no indication of further cancer progression. She continues to stay active despite the nausea that follows treatment, and even that has not been debilitating. In other words, this is the way we want the story to be written.

But you and I have seen enough movies to know about plot twists, tension and other sources of drama that get injected into the story that come out of nowhere and change your mind about how you thought the story would originally play out. I find myself in that position today. Relieved the treatments are over, yet cautious that there could be more someday down the road.

And with this said, what I don’t want to do is live in fear of tomorrow. I know in my head that the future is not knowable for anyone, cancer or no. We each dwell in a fragile world of unpredictable nature, and this fact requires an outlook that embraces that reality, but also is not crippled by it either.

I know it sounds cliché, but taking a day at a time has taken on new meaning. I remember when our children were infants, and our friends with older kids would remind us that “they grow up quickly.” In the midst of dealing with dirty diapers and spit up, you couldn’t help but think, “yea, right.” But experience now proves them correct, and I find myself from time to time wanting some of those days back, when they were first learning to walk and talk and read and write and discover the world. We only get one run through, but we do get to relive the memories.

Every year around Christmas season, when my dad and I would see a commercial on TV for a slot car racing set, or a nifty helicopter that you could fly indoors, he often would mutter, “too bad we don’t have a nine year old around here.” I didn’t viscerally know what he meant until a few Christmases ago, when there were no such toys under our tree to open and play with. My kids have grown up, and rightfully they should, and I could either mourn the loss and wish for the past to return or appreciate the new season and look for new memories that need to be made.

Karen’s story offers me the same opportunity. Do I wish for the previous days of health before knowing about her cancer, or do I hold on to today and all it has to offer? Do I fear tomorrow’s uncertainty, or do I offer up thanks that together we share the moments in front of us?

All I have is right now.

Stored Potential

2010-10-04T07:28:00.001-07:00

Some people collect baseball cards, or Hummel figurines or dryer lint; I consider myself a collector of friends, and I added several to my collection this weekend.

The chefs I had the privilege of working with on the Stored Potential dinner on Sunday afternoon were some of the best professionals I could have ever imagined. You might think that getting 8 chefs together in one location would only lead to something akin to a Top Chef episode, but it was far from it. No drama. No egos. Just old fashioned hard work, respect and an elevated level of cooking for 500 unlike anything I've ever been a part of.

Being an hour away in Lincoln put me at a disadvantage in laying some of the groundwork of preparation for the event, but my partner Chef Paul Kulik at the Boiler Room took a lion's share of responsibility that helped put us way ahead in our compostion of eight pork courses (kielbasa, ham, pate, heart, loin, belly, ribs, 4 split heads and a whole lot of pork stock.) We divided up some of the courses to be prepared in our own restaurant kitchens, and then together congregated at a local Omaha kitchen to finish the prep work.

I call it event stress. It is the emotion you feel prior to showtime, usually in the form of fear that you will not deliver a proper performance for the audience who is waiting in anticipation. People respond to that fear in a variety of ways. Some yell, others withdraw and go inward. Some shutdown and become less efficient, while others seem to thrive on the stress and do their best work. Everyone on our team fell into this later category, kicking it into gear when needed. I admit I did not know how we were going to get that much food out to 500 people in the time allotted, but the chef's true colors shone brightly, and seemingly with one mind, we all knew what to do.

Thanks also to the army of culinary students and volunteers who go unnoticed by the cameras, but not by us in charge. In the kitchen there is not much democracy, because there isn't the time to vote on every little step of the process. Without the words, " yes, chef," in your vocabulary, such an event would be a disaster.

The reward of it goes beyond the applause; the smiling faces at the table and the many "thank you's" from happy people on the way out, because these images will fade over time. Instead, it's the camaraderie of these like minded individuals for whom our paths will hopefully and eventually someday cross again, if not to work together, but to eat in their restaurants or read of their accomplishments and to recall that big event we did together in Omaha.

This is the kind of collection you won't have to sell on eBay when you get old.

Priceless.

Why I did Groupon

2010-09-25T07:22:00.001-07:00

Many of you noticed that last Thursday we were the Lincoln feature on Groupon. It was a choice I considered hesitantly, but eventually decided to give it a shot. Business requires risk taking, and you might ask how is selling 1324 Groupons a risk. It was in my mind, but here is what put me over the edge.

One of the accomplishments of which I am very proud is our ability to market our restaurant with very little advertising. We've spent less than $1500 on print media in three years, relying mainly on our website, direct email (which is free) and social media (also free) as our primary means of dispensing information about who we are and what we offer. I've turned down countless salespeople trying to get me to buy an ad in this or that paper or publication. In some cases, they have made me a dirt cheap offer, but I always have to respond by saying, "that doesn't fit our strategy."

But along comes Groupon, and unless you've are still using a rotary phone and actually use your Yellow Pages book for looking up numbers and not propping up the end table, you'll know that it is a company that is making lots of noise across the country. I heard a story on NPR last week about its success and the impact it has on the businesses who are featured in it. In some of the larger cities, the Groupon feature has actually caused a system overload, bringing in more business than they were prepared to handle.

I was hesitant to even listen to the Groupon staff because I don't really like coupons. I feel they don't attract the right customer. As many people that bitch about my prices, I sure don't need someone to try and nickel and dime me with a two-fer. I believe my food is worth full price, as it is prepared with skill, care and high quality ingredients. If you want cheap, please go elsewhere.

But what drew me to reconsider Groupon was sheer exposure. In a town our size, there are still an unimaginable amount of people who don't know we exist. This is beyond me, mainly because I drive around town with my eyes open, and my curiosity gets piqued with any new business development or endeavor I see. But many people walk with their head down from house to car to work and back again, never looking up to see the sky above. So to get my name in front of 25,000 viewers in a 24 hour period, I would guess that many of those eyeballs will be seeing us for the first time.

And sure enough, as the Groupons began showing up yesterday, I looks like about half of the people redeeming them are first time visitors. In this way it's already paying off by getting brand new customers in the door to enjoy simple food and drink. The discount is a nice reward to my regular customers, but it's also introducing our brand to more and more people.

And so to all you newbies, the way it works is this: we'll set the table; you bring the conversation.

Monday, Monday

2010-09-20T06:21:00.001-07:00

Monday morning. The time when most of you are rousing from your slumber, dragging yourself from the warm bed to the hot coffee pot and motoring off to your place of employment for another eight to nine hours of activity known as work.

My Mondays look a little different.

In fact, I don't resent Mondays anymore, or at least not with the same reason. A Monday morning is never the same, but nevertheless it is mine to craft according to my prescription. I used to refer to it as my day off, but I have learned that as an entrepreneur, you never really have days off. It's the whole reason why you are an entrepreneur. Your mind does not stop working very easily.

It's why I stopped counting hours long ago. It's easy to make references like, "I worked 80 hours last week," but when you break it down, how accurate is that? Did my "twelve hour day" on Saturday start at 7:00am when I arrived at the restaurant or did it begin at 5:30am when I got up and began thinking through menu ideas, making a To Do list, and loading the truck with supplies for the Farmer's Market? Do I include entire day as work, or do I mark off the 20 min when I sat down and had a bowl of soup and read the paper? Did my day end at 9:00pm when I sat down at the bar with some of my customers or did it end at 10pm when I drove home? Do I count the drive time home and add on the extra time that it took to unload the truck and put everything away?

As an entrepreneur, at some point it is futile to think of your work in terms of time, unless your goal is to impress people with how many hours you put in. I recommend getting over that quickly.

You are an entrepreneur because you must be, not because you think it's chic or hip or the road to getting noticed by the Food Network. You go into business because you are compelled to do so. You become your own boss because your ideas are so prevalent; you torture yourself by not exploring them. Working for someone else is not a bad thing; it's just not your thing.

It's why counting hours is unnecessary. You have goals to accomplish, regardless of how long it takes. You don't have the luxury of shutting down after eight hours and turning it over to the next person and the next shift. It stays with you constantly. In reality, if someone asks you how many hours you put it; you could just say "168" and you probably won't be exaggerating. Even in your sleep you are thinking about making payroll and streamlining the operation for more efficiency.

Our problem is not work. It never has been and never will be. Instead, ours is rest. To us, sometimes our work is so energizing, we don't want to quit, nor do we always even know how to quit. This is the inherent trouble of being an entrepreneur. We may get things done, but we may pass early. We are driven, but we also drive ourselves into the ground. We like the idea of a day off, but never quite sure where to go to find one.

Helping you get through winter

2010-09-13T09:09:00.001-07:00

There are some of you who love winter, and I suppose I would also if I ran a ski resort or a snow removal service. This would make me yearn for a constant deluge of snow so I could cash in at the bank. But I think I am in the majority when I say I don't really thrive in the winter.

But winter is a season, inevitable as it may be, and there is no way around it besides moving to the Bahamas and waiting it out. But since I have a year round business to run, that isn't a viable option at this point in my life. I must adopt a different strategy.

When the doctor gave us the news of Karen' s cancer, he gave us some advice that I have heeded on a daily basis. He said yes, you have cancer, and yes, it is very serious and can be life threatening, but he also added that it is treatable disease and that we could take one of two paths from this point forward. Of course we both wanted to know the statistics; what are the chances of beating this thing? In his wise bedside manner, he told us that we can ask and find some answers to any of these kinds of questions, but his recommendation would be to focus on everything positive and let the unknown run its course. The doctor continued by adding how thankful we can be that we caught this disease in its early stages, and most of the time he sees this type of cancer at an advanced stage IV.

If focusing on the positive seems like sticking your head in the sand, it doesn't mean you have to ignore the harsh daily realities of your current circumstances in order to feel good. It only means that you choose not to let the negative be the ruling party.

As winter approaches, one positive to which I look forward is the shift in our style of cooking. Yes, the seasonal choices will diminish and our growers will no longer arrive heavy laden with tomatoes, cucumbers, and squash, but like our ancestors who settled these plains, we still have an abundance of beef, pork, chicken, lamb, buffalo, rabbit, quail and even veal. I just recently purchase an entire suckled veal, which is a young calf that has been humanely raised in open spaces and fed its mother's milk. So you can expect to see Veal Parmesan and Weiner schnitzel any time soon. Last Saturday evening I served a veal sausage similar to Nurnberger. I ate this dish after my shift, and it sealed my commitment to keep learning the craft of sausage-making. Expect to see more forcemeat applications such as Merguez, Sweet Italian, and Boudin Blanc appear on the menu this winter.

We refer to it as comfort food for a reason, because it leaves us with warmth and satisfaction like no other source can. Is there any better combination on a snowy day that a hot, hearty bowl of soup and some fresh crusty baked bread? Such simplicity should be rated as genius, but something feels wrong about designating four stars to something so elementary.

I love the aromas of the fall kitchen; the cinnamon spice wafting through the air from the apple pies and the pumpkin bread baking in the oven, or the earthy sage and piney rosemary in the butternut squash releasing its subtle fragrance announcing to all who will hear that it is time to slow down and settle in for the slumbering months of winter. Even the overlooked combination of carrots, onions and celery simmering in the stock pot will let you know that taking the extra time to cook it slow and draw out more flavor will lead to a reward at the table for which the customer will be glad to dole out in words like, amazing or wonderful.

Yes, winter, even in Nebraska, can have its positives.

We've had such a nice Spring and Summer at bread&cup. It's so enjoyable to see a full restaurant with people doing what we created the place to do, bringing the conversation while we set their table with the best we have to offer. It won't be long until our patio will close up for the season, cutting our seating in half. And instead of seeing it as a loss, I prefer to use it a reminder that we get to adjust with the season, and bring you new, satisfying, savory dishes that will be a bright, warm, and cozy refuge for you and your friends while Old Man Winter stays for his visit.

Technological Discretion

2010-09-09T07:32:00.000-07:00

The idea is not original to me, but it resonates deeply, and I am curious to see how it plays itself out in the coming years. Since scientific discovery and technological progress will likely not decline or go away any time soon, I believe we will be required to develop a new trait. Call it a skill, or character quality, or learned behavior, but the need to push ourselves away from the screen is going to be as vital as knowing when to stop eating when we are full.

I would simply call it technological discretion.

Technology, like food, is consumptive by nature. It exists to be utilized, taken advantage of, with the end result in maintaining a satisfactory life. We have come to rely and be dependent on technology in such a way that our current lifestyle will not be sustainable without it.

Some would argue that this is part of our social problem. We are too dependent on computers and electronic devices and need to return to a simpler, more organic way of living. And while I would affirm that there is a pastoral bliss associated with an agrarian era, we’re not going to all be milking cows in our backyard any time soon.

The Amish are Amish for a reason. They live by that sword and thus they will die by that same sword. You don’t want electricity? Fine. But when it comes down to treating an ailing loved one by choosing between an herbal treatment or surgery that requires electricity, then you’ve created an inconsistent worldview if you reach for the later out of desperation.

My point is; there are certain amounts of technologies and energies that we are not going to get away from. As much as I may dislike what the Internet has done to a new generation, it’s also ushered in some unbelievably amazing changes to how we live and access information. If I’m going to take the good, I’ve got to be willing to deal with the bad.

And we can learn this lesson by how we eat.

Food is for the stomach and the stomach is for the soul. If at any time we reverse the direction of that logic, we end up in addiction, because we are letting food drive our choices, and not from the innermost being. Without the ability to tell the stomach “no,” we open the path to gluttony, and introduce a whole new set of health problems along the way.

In the same way, without the fortitude to wrangle technology and keep it corralled, it, too, can take over control.

I’m intrigued at how marketers are now selling the smartphone technology. They are making us believe that those few minutes of standing in line at the DMV would be much better utilized if you took that time, not to watch the interesting people that collect at the DMV, but to bury your head in an app that will fritter that time away by watching a video of a guy making a fool of himself on YouTube.

One technological boundary I have put around my restaurant is making it a NO TV dining zone. Am I saying that there is anything wrong with TV’s? No, I am instead saying that when out on a date with my wife, it’s a whole lot easier to stay focused on her if I don’t have a 47” plasma flat screen behind her head keeping me updated on whether or not Brett Favre is going to come back to the Vikings. It solves a lot of problems by not having to contend with it.

Just like Jenny Craig and Weight Watchers, I wonder if in the future we will see companies called Screen Diet or Unplugged, Inc. to assist your technological discretion?

Game Day

2010-09-04T12:32:00.001-07:00

When people see how close we are to Memorial Stadium, the typical response is always the same; "Wow, you must pack 'em in on Game Days."

Not so much.

Being the closest watering hole does not bring us business by default. Football Saturdays have proven to be some of our worst sales days. Location, Location, Location applies if your business concept matches the demographic. The Sea of Red that flows by my place like a wandering river does not seem to step out of its banks, except to grab a cheap beer and Fairbury hot dog.

One thing I have learned from this: don't deviate from your plan. I tried cable TV's, beer specials, cheap food. Nada. I stopped trying to figure it out, mainly because of last night.

We had a record day yesterday, which tells me that my audience knows how and when to find us. A slow game day means I can't plan a Market Meal, but it does mean I get to go home, crack open a homebrew, flip on ESPN, and spend an unusual Saturday night at home.

See you Monday.

How to Fire a Customer

2010-09-03T04:27:00.000-07:00

Customer feedback is extremely important in understanding how you are delivering your product, but it’s also essential to be able to sift through those comments to discern the difference between personal preference and a legitimate beef.

If you own a business, and do not have a plan to garner customer feedback, all you need to do is a Google search of your company’s name and see if there is anything out there in cyberspace written about you of which you were unaware. There are a handful of sites I monitor regularly and use with my staff to address issues that might go undetected.

As much as I hate to read them, when I come across feedback that says our service was not commensurate with the quality of our food, I need to take these very seriously. Instead of getting defensive, I must listen for the truth in the statements, or else I let a matter go unaddressed that could have further damaging effects than one unhappy customer.

Dealing with the customer is a dynamic, subjective experience. You might have the most extensive customer service manual ever written and there will always be that guy who is one of a kind that breaks the mold and leaves you asking, “How do I handle this one?”

What folks think about price is one such factor. One man’s gouging is another man’s bargain. Location, local economics and community perception all play into what people think about how much you are charging for your product. But in the Free Market, Supply and Demand still works. If people demand it, you can supply it, and charge whatever you want for it. Have you noticed how much it costs to go to a concert or professional sporting event these days? Pull out your 1979 ticket stub to the Pink Floyd show that changed your life. The difference in price might amaze you, and you’ll realize how old you are.

When people complain that I charge too much for my food, I just let that one roll off like sweat off a line cook’s brow. I know how much local food costs, I know much I pay my employees, and I know how much my light bill is each month. I think I’m charging a pretty fair price for the product I offer.

So yesterday, a guy comes in, and after looking over the menu, begins to bend Karen’s ear about how expensive everything is. In her recollection of the story, he goes on and on and on, to the point of becoming unreasonable. In her endearing way, she eventually leaned toward the man and said, “You know, the dining room’s full, and people here seem pretty happy…maybe I should redirect you to another location.”

He stayed for lunch.

And it seemed like he had a decent experience.

The Perfect Storm

2010-08-29T06:34:00.000-07:00

One component of my writing is to try and give you a peek inside the world of professional food, to affirm and dispel the romance that surrounds the idea of being a chef, propagated in large part to the media driven image seen on the ubiquitous televisions shows that puff the celebrity and make cooking look like the cool, hip profession you’ve always longed for.

Let me make it clear; you did not want my job last night.

Every Saturday, usually around 4PM, a cloud of anxiety begins to form over my head, mostly from a knowledge of all the unchecked boxes on the list of prep that may or may not get finished on time because of that late afternoon crowd that shows up before we make the transition in the front of the house from lunch to dinner.

Last night was no exception. The clouds began to form. I just didn’t know that it was going to lead to The Perfect Storm.

By 6PM, as it should be, we had our kitchen prep done, all our mise en place ready and set to execute our menu for the evening. At 6:05PM, my staff was waiting on the printer to chatter off the first orders, but nothing was sent back. Ten minutes later, at 6:15PM, still with no tickets, I told my sous chef, “I don’t like the way this feels.” The host kept seating guest, both patio and dining room filling, and no orders. The billowing thunderheads were about to unleash, and there was nothing we could do but hang on. There is no 'fraidy hole to dive into

6:20PM and the printer started to squawk and the rain began to pour. 12 tickets all at once, back to back, and that sinking feeling didn’t let up for three more hours. Twelve chits on a rail may not be a big deal in a bigger operation, but it represented about 2/3 of my dining space, and several of those were large groups. My little kitchen doesn’t have enough horizontal space to set out 26 salad plates that needed to go out on the first courses.

Kitchen work is akin to playing in a band. It’s all about rhythm and timing. If one player gets out of sync with the rest of the musicians, you can’t really call it music. Noise, maybe; music; not.

It’s a terrible feeling, this being out of control, especially for a chef who does not thrive on chaos, but prefers being tethered to a well executed plan. I‘d rather be able to underpromise and overdeliver than to dash your elevated expectations with poor service and a lacking experience. And even with my front of the house personnel. I hate having to send them back out the door to face an angry customer with bad news that their food is not going to be ready in a timely manner.

But better to be plagued by this concern than not caring anymore. About 8:45PM I was drawing the conclusions that my life would be so much easier if I punched a clock all week and let my biggest interest be mowing the yard and watching NASCAR on the weekends like so many other people in the world. But nooo, I had to be my own boss and go off and create a lifestyle that knows nothing of a weekend anymore and grind the bursa in my knees to uselessness and…..so on. You get the idea.

But the self pity turns back into rational thought this morning as I write my way to therapeutic relief, that and a cup of coffee and beautiful sunrise, I am still glad I am a chef, still grateful for a job that is my own and a lifestyle that does not need to look like the majority of other people.

If you were a guest last night and were a victim of our Perfect Storm, or ever visit a restaurant where it seems like the wheels are falling off, I hope this gives a little insight into why stuff like that happens.

Day 65

2010-08-25T03:11:00.000-07:00

You haven’t seen Karen around the restaurant in the last couple of weeks because she has not been feeling well due to the fever she developed after the third treatment. You know how a fever can take any body ache and multiply it. Now add to it the joint pain from the Taxol and you have an idea what she went through.

Fever is a sign of infection, and especially in a cancer patient undergoing chemotheraphy, it is a cause for concern, since the white blood cells may not be adequate in number to fend off the infection. The cause of the fever is not certain, and the degree is fairly low grade, which has her doctor puzzled. But she is feeling much better now, and ready for this next round of side effects.

Cancer disrupts your life, but you must make sure it does not rule the roost, and the domain in which it has no authority is in your spirit. And since Laughter resides there, it is vitally important to keep your sense of humor, because it is a reminder that you, and not the disease, are in control of that domain.

After returning from the Farmer’s Market on Sunday, I came home to find Karen out in the garden, sweating heavily, pulling weeds. I certainly did not want to spend my day off in the heat cleaning up a dying cause, and neither did her mom, who has been here helping out with the caregiving the last two weeks. In motherly fashion, she scolded Karen for overdoing it and threatened to call the little old ladies at her church and tell them to stop praying for recovery if she didn’t slow down and take better care of her self. I know it’s probably one of those “you had to be there” stories, but it’s made us laugh several times since then. Now if she and I are in disagreement about something, I remind her that I will “call the little old ladies…” It still doesn’t change her mind, but the laughter is still good medicine.

She is taking this week off from work again, as she usually does after a treatment, but if all things are equal, hopefully she will be able to return. There is always a balance between work and rest, because at times, work can provide the needed therapy that gets the mind engaged and arouses the soul. Again, thanks for your concern and feel free to ask. We live with this everyday. We’re accustomed to talking about it.

Welcome, Erik

2010-08-23T05:06:00.000-07:00

With the pace of business increasing since he got here, I’ve failed to post his proper introduction.

Welcome, Erik Hustad.

Erik joined our staff about four months ago and has immediately proven he was worth the risk in hiring him. When people ask me how I find such good people, I do have to admit that occasionally they find me.

I was unwinding with The Future late one afternoon at my local go-to watering hole, and in walks a mutual friend who was back in town for a few days from Seattle. After working through the awkwardness of determining the right way to make a handshake greeting, he asks me, out of the blue, if I am hiring. Not the most common topic of conversation right off the bat, but to which I responded, “Maybe.”

He said he knew a guy that was finishing his degree at the Art Institute of Seattle, would be moving back to Lincoln soon and was interested in applying to work with me. I told him to contact me right away, and sure enough, the next day I had an email in my inbox from Erik. You only have one chance to make a good first impression, and that quick response didn’t hurt.

This interaction was in the early Spring at a point when I was anticipating a need to add to my staff. I had a hunch we were about to break through to another vista, but I didn’t have the numbers to back it up. I only had hoped that it would. Thus, another risk to take.

During the course of our conversations on the phone, I explained to Erik my predicament, that as a young, inexperienced restaurant we are constantly forging new direction and remarking our map to read Terra Firma instead of Terra Incognita. He made a pretty bold assertion by saying, “hire me, and I’ll earn you my salary.”

Damn if he hasn’t done just that.

Erik has already proven his worth in many ways, but the most immediate one I appreciate is taking some of the load off my shoulders so I can get my head above water, scan the horizon and breathe again.

He brings a strong sense of order and management to our team. He is the extra set of eyes that look for the same things I want to see; cleanliness, consistency and a quality plate that gets sent out through the swinging door.

Since Erik and I have the same haircut, you may mistake one for the other if our back is toward you.

Eat until you're hungry

2010-08-19T14:08:00.000-07:00

Sustain. Sustainable. Sustainability. All buzz words of the current generation that get tossed around with such ease and abandon like chips on a craps table. But what does it actually mean to sustain.

The last three months of business have been a daily encounter with change and growth unlike what I’ve had in the first three years of operation. In this short period I have added two full time salaried employees, a new menu, some new equipment, an interior facelift, along with a new service attitude. Sales continue to be going in the right direction and I have more time now to concern myself with these types of matters.

But something still doesn’t feel right.

What I grapple with now is that I am actually in the kitchen less than ever. Not because I don’t want to be, but instead because I don’t need to be there as often. I have good quality folk on which to rely. I don’t have to be butcher, baker and candlestick maker any longer. I can now focus on that part of the work that only I can do. Others can cook, bake and manage. Only a few can incubate a vision.

My personal quest is to grow a sustainable business while living a sustainable life, and in the process, pass on written words that parse what I’ve discovered in the hope that it will encourage others to do likewise. This is a difficult path, as I find few in this profession to which I can get close enough to see and learn from either their wisdom or mistakes. But this is no excuse to stop watching the inner compass and staying aimed at true north.

One enemy of sustainability is in having nothing set aside, and living as if our current supply will always be adequate. But if we deplete our supply without thought of what might happen to it if a disaster strikes, we run the risk of having nothing to get us through such crisis. My buddy Dave lost fifty chickens in the sweltering heat this month. That’s a lot of income for him, and a good product for me, but our menu is diverse enough that we can adjust it by utilizing less poultry and leaning more on other proteins. But if we only sold chicken, to borrow a phrase from the kids, “we’d be screwed.” As it is, we have a reserve and thus can carry on.

This idea works internally as well. This week has been very difficult on me personally, on one hand watching Karen struggle with her cancer treatment, and on the other, preparing for my son to go off to college. The supply side has taken a hit and I find myself feeling depleted more often than not. If I don’t stop to address what’s left in the tank and, how to keep a small cache in store, I won’t be able to sustain what needs to be done.

It should be intuitive. We eat when we are hungry. We stop when we are full. So where along the way do we lose sight of the source and its importance? If consumption is of high concern, what will be left once we’ve had our fill?

Blue Woman Group

2010-08-11T05:21:00.001-07:00

I’ve not posted anything about Karen lately since there hasn’t been much to report. There have been a few hiccups along the way, with some significant aches and nausea this past week. It did keep her away from the restaurant during our anniversary week, but not entirely and she was still able to meet and greet a few days. I am so grateful that the success of our business has been a mental diversion from the disruption of her treatment. Probably the most interesting development as of late is the matter of hair, or lack thereof. I point out to Karen my observation that women seem to dress for each other and not really for the attention of men. This is likely due to the fact that we men don’t always notice when there is a new hairstyle or nifty pair of sandals on her feet. I’ve come to this conclusion by watching other women size up my wife when we are out on a date. The glance usually starts up top with the hair, moves down to the shoes, then up to the purse and outfit. This three-point reaction is appears to be Pavlovian, but since I am not a scientist or psychologist, I will not preach about this conclusion with any kind of authority. But since Karen is as bald as I am now, she is finding the courage to accept this by-product of her treatment in positive ways, one of which is the reduction in the amount of time it takes to get ready in the morning. I’ve known the benefit of this for fifteen years now, so it is not as revelatory to me as it is her. And with the triple digit heat we’ve had lately, wearing a wig would make about as much sense as affixing a damp polyester bath mat on your melon with a sweaty ACE bandage. A chrome-dome does have liabilities, but there are a few advantages as well. The first day Karen came in to the restaurant without a hat or scarf, I was interested in seeing the reactions of others, and as I predicted, it was the women who responded with the most enthusiasm. I would not be exaggerating if I were to use words like, awe and amazement. A group of four ladies at a table were effusive in their compliments toward Karen’s appearance. One woman came up to me and simply said, “damn, that’s hot.” I blushed, but nodded in agreement. It’s too bad there is not a Blue Woman Group holding an audition, because I believe she has the prototypical skull shape that their producers would be looking for. That old joke we bald guys have been telling for years that says, “God only made a few good looking heads, that’s why he chose to cover the rest up with hair.” This would apply to Karen. Her lack of hair, accessorized by big, dangling silver earrings and those thick framed sunglasses the kids are into these days; that’s a fashion statement not many can pull off. And she does it with style and grace. But another observation I’ve made is how her acceptance of this aspect of treatment puts people at ease. It’s an admission that says, “Yes, I have cancer. You don’t have to be awkward around me or tip-toe around the subject.” It admits, “I’m not trying to look as if nothing is wrong.” This is one reason I try to write about this experience. I hope to give you permission to say it’s OK to ask. I remember one mother who lost her son in a tragic accident tell me that people would say to her, “I didn’t know if I should ask or not. I didn’t want to make you upset.” Her reply was unforgettable. “Upset? I live with this daily. How can you make me more upset?” Keeping you informed is my way of saying we’re OK telling the story, and conversely, you’re OK to inquire. You’re not going to make anything worse. Thanks again to all who have asked, written, prayed, and shared in this leg of the journey with us. Your responses are priceless.

From Here to There

2010-08-08T10:11:00.000-07:00

Did someone get the number of that truck? As I passed beneath the undercarriage, I managed to glance back and seem to remember seeing the license plate reading 3.

3 as in “Three Years.”

For most of you, it was just another day, and for my employees, it was a much busier than average week. But for me, it was a huge milestone, one that has evoked memories that date back much further than these three short years. From where I sit this morning, I think back to the many years that bread&cup only existed in my mind, and to no one else. I recall the countless number of nights out here, under the flicker from my trio of catholic icon candles, the distinct aroma of a little whispy nag champa smoke in the air, and an occasional moon crossing the southern sky. Yes, this is the place it was nurtured into being, and I return to it after an amazing week of seeing people enjoy the fulfillment of the vision.

There are some paths we walk with others, and there are some we must trod alone. As with Karen’s cancer, I can’t tell you how many folks have offered generous support in the form of victorious stories, showed kindness by mowing, cleaning gutters, brought flowers and food, and reminded me that we are not the first and only ones to experience this kind of circumstance. But at the same time, it still remains my unique experience, regardless if someone else has it worse than me or not. Despite the presence of supportive community, I am eventually left to account for my blessings and sorrows in those quiet moments as I stare at the ceiling, head on my pillow, determining if I will hold a negative or positive balance within.

Thursday and Friday of last week, I had penned into my schedule a two day leadership conference, for which I had registered a couple of months ago, and was high in anticipation of being in an environment of others who are engaged in their own leadership conversation. But given the fact that disruption is par for the course of a small business owner, my two day conference turned into only about an hour or so of direct involvement in that discussion, but as Providence would have it, that’s pretty much all I needed to hear.

The opening speaker basically put the last five years of my life in the outline of his talk. It was not a speech that I would say I learned anything new, but instead received a tremendous sense of affirmation that I made the right decision in 2005 to drastically change my career direction into a field I had no professional experience with which to validate a long-standing dream.

To economize the story, what this truncated two-day seminar helped me conclude was this; my life is my own and what I choose to do with it is also mine. I cannot change circumstances, but I can change my responses to those circumstances.

Deciding to open a restaurant was a conscious idea. It didn’t happen on its own, nor did it happen overnight. It did not happen without delays, setbacks, conflict, or disappointment. It was not an easy road to get here. And now throw cancer into the mix and it feels a little like an episode of Chopped. Let’s see what you can do with beef tenderloin, a Kool-Aid packet and durian fruit. No chef in the world would choose on his or her own to make a shopping list of such unrelated ingredients, but sometimes that’s what you get handed and you make your decisions as best you know how and hope it turns out in your favor.

Your vision of the preferred future requires leadership. Setting out from where you are now, and getting to where you want to be is not going to happen without learning how to take the helm.

And believe me, it’s a scary reach.

But consider the alternative, and that is to stay stuck in the same old place, nurturing recurrent excuses, justifying them as reasons. When the taste of that place becomes like the smell of durian fruit, that’s the point we can say in the words of one of my favorite pop sources of philosophy, Blue Man Group…

“It’s time to start.”