Now that the State Fair is over (see my earlier blog) and after splurging on some 60 foods on a stick, I can conclude that all but perhaps a handful of them are not good for the human body if consumed in large quantities.

In order to encourage our employees to eat healthier, I recently partnered with our human resources department to offer healthy recipes to team members. These recipes are easy to prepare and feature simple ingredients. Ninety percent of our team members are not culinary professionals, and everybody has a busy life. Therefore, I created recipes which anyone should be able to do in 30 minutes, with ingredients readily on hand. Read more of this >>

“Take what you can; give nothing back!” — a pirate toast

I was thinking of this quote over a beer in our lounge.

A few months back, San Diego did remarkably well in the World Beer Cup with several medals and one brewery taking the prize as small brewery of the year. Given the explosion of great quality, local beers I thought it was important that my little hotel get out in front of this swelling wave and we brought in brewers for tastings, eventually moving all our tap heads to the locals.

As we were tasting, I thought, “Wow, it might be fun to invite a bunch of these breweries and a bunch of chefs here to throw a beer and food shindig out in our garden area.” Just a simple thought, but that thought was enough to weaken my anti-pleasant immune system, and I found I had come down with a moderate case of philanthropy. Read more of this >>

It’s a familiar scene: New company takes over distressed property; veteran staff exhibits an uncomfortable blend of fear, apathy, resistance, and obsequiousness. Weeks pass, menus change, “new and improved” systems are implemented, yet inconsistency and mediocrity perpetuates. Why?

In speaking with fellow chefs who have braved the task-force world and/or have become turn-around experts, three common barriers to excellence emerged. Read more of this >>

“Lost time is never found again.” – Benjamin Franklin

I remember a time when I would have said, “If I could just shut my door and not deal with all these associate issues, I could get so much done.” Between budgeting, forecasting, corporate reports, schedule reviews, brand updates, audits, the daily deluge of e-mails, and the 20-30 other things that come across my desk on a daily basis, it would make sense to let everyone else run the show. Then I could focus myself on what I am responsible for.

In this lies the conundrum: As leaders in the world of F&B, our very core knows we could never allow ourselves to be taken out of the action. Removing ourselves from the nitty-gritty controlled chaos would be like trying to remove one of our organs. It becomes a part of us, a part that we thrive on. Read more of this >>

When I was a culinary apprentice back in the early ’90s, being a chef meant being a well respected head of the kitchen. Everyone listened to the chef, everyone believed the chef was the foremost technical authority for culinary in his or her kitchen.

If you came up during that time you were still part of the “old school” way of thinking, and you know what I am talking about. The chef was it, you listened to your chef, and you feared your chef. You would come to work everyday early and leave late (mostly “off the clock,” because chef was going to teach you something that was outside the realm of your everyday duties). Really this was a way to “learn” how to peel 150 pounds of carrots that the banquet department needed for a plate up the next day or “learn” how to make the employee meal for the next day using only the scraps in the walk-in, which amounted to 20 pounds of week-old chicken, some carrot peelings, and something that looked liked chicken stock—and the chef would tell you, “Now create something with this, and you need to feed 100 people.” Read more of this >>

“Okay, on Sunday you can bust suds.” I still remember basking in the glory of those words. Despite flying straight into my well-established disgust and borderline phobia of spittle-laden leavings, for the first time, I became professionally goal-driven.

Here was the plan: Perform well enough at washing dishes to be noticed and then work that into a better job in the kitchen. Subsequently, after proving myself committed to working quickly and until the work was done, coupled with a flexible willingness either to run my mouth or shut it down as the situation warranted, I was promoted to a prep cook position.

Prepping food was a produce-or-you-will-be-barked-at proposition: washing and cutting lettuce for the salad bar; trimming chicken and cubing steak for teriyaki skewers; cracking frozen lobster tails and slathering butter, spices, and plastic wrap over the top. Measure that, mix this, but mostly, speed was demanded.

This little kitchen had to be the point of origin for the term breakneck speed. Again, this was “old school” and there were tons of accidents. Never was there a mention of proper lifting techniques and nary a rubber glove in sight. Cuts and burns in that kitchen were an hourly occurrence. We had more bandages and burn ointment “on the fly” than “remake” dinners. Most of my kitchen hits and nicks were inconsequential—until I was stabbed.

The culprit was waiting for my arrival—a stiletto-thin, serrated steak knife with evil intent. Like a viper on the trail, this bad boy was blade up in the recesses of the only rubber mat in the kitchen. It had been dropped, walked on, and wedged into place by the numb shoes of my fellow workers. One busy evening while diligently applying my adopted value of “speed above all,” I dashed to the front of the dish pit, my vision blocked at the waist by a bus tub full of dirty tools.

As my right foot came to a harried stop, it pressed securely down on the mat-trapped handle of the knife, leveraging the blade tip up at an angle that allowed it to rip itself through the thin canvas of my ratty tennis shoe and then into the inside meat of my late-arriving left foot. I mean, I buried that knife in there. This was real pain, not a schoolyard scrape, and it is here, I confess, that the only thing that kept me from screaming like a scared five-year-old was the swift reaction of the battle-tested kitchen veterans. The alarm was sounded by the first amigo to see me and then, “Wha’ the f’enheimer did choo do?” said the big dawg kitchen manager.

A knife was protruding from the side of my foot like the curb antenna on my grandpa’s Chevy, but what should I do? Yell? Jerk it out? Or just continue to hold my breath and spastically hop around? I know now that my lapsed reaction was because of pure shock, but I did not have long to process the event.

Two or three white-apron blurs grabbed me and together we three-legged-raced to the three-compartment sink. They lifted my leg onto the side of the stainless steel tank. I became woozy. “We gotta take it out and look at it,” they barked.

“Okay,” I feebly replied. I shouldn’t have looked. There against the silver sink was my dangling bloody foot. I saw the hand grab the knife and tug. It hurt coming out, but it was my flesh entrails and the flow of deep red color that I so vividly remember. My tennis shoe and sock were off a moment later and the cold water was cascading over my bare foot. The full blast torrent barely diluted my burgundy-colored blood swirling at the bottom of the sink. Then, first aid goo, gauze, duct tape, and an ice bag, followed by momentary humanity.

After my patch-up, while sitting on an over-turned ice bucket, the kitchen manager came over to me and said “Dude, that’s bad. You gotta go to the doc.”

Weakly, I said. “My car’s got a stick. I don’t think I can work the clutch.”

“That’s okay, I’ll drive ya.”

“But what about the dinner rush,” I asked.

“I’ll get Bobo [his second in command] to run the line. Let’s go!”

I received support and attention not from the “boss/owner” who was “tsk-tsking” in the background, but from our recognized tribal leader: the kitchen manager. This leader didn’t give a hoot about arti-“chokes” or potato-“bakers” when it got real. He stepped up and personally ensured my well being when it counted the most. To recap in a nutshell: I got a tetanus shot, stitches, and time off.

When I returned to work, I was part of the cultural lore. The kitchen crew all blamed some pond scum sucker from the front of the house for being lazy (okay, some disharmonious comments may have emanated from me) and causing this wounding of “one of us.”

One of us. Yes, by working hard before the bloodletting, by not fainting at the sight of my gored foot, and by returning to work, I had made my “bones.” I even picked up a nickname, “Blood” (as in copious amounts of), long before there was any gang member connotation.

Like many hourly workers before and after, I started that summer just trying to get a job and ended it by taking a wild ride with the kitchen tribe.

About this time each year, experts scramble to beat each other to the punch and be the first to make predictions for the coming year. Some predictions deserve to be considered, while others are just plain common knowledge and are really not newsworthy. I have always believed that doing what you do best, while offering what your market demands, is a great start. Cutting-edge, hip and trendy restaurants will always have a place in the market. They are exciting, fun, and necessary. But remember that the majority of these restaurants created their own success by doing what they knew best, not by following trends. Following trends is a tricky game; if you’re reading about it, it’s probably too late to get on board. That being said, serious cooks and chefs should always be expanding their culinary horizons and repertoires. It is necessary to continually develop if you are to reach your potential. So here are my predictions for 2010. Take them for what they’re worth and add a few of your own. That’s what this whole blogging thing is about.

Menus Shall Be Streamlined
Eliminating costly slow-sellers, high-cost, and labor-intensive items may be necessary to survive. A smaller, more manageable lineup of killer items, rather than dozens of so-so dishes, will assist in controlling costs. Use daily specials to market higher cost items, limiting the amount of inventory on hand while satisfying that creative star demand.

Menus Shall Include More Customer-Driven Options
People love to customize their menu options without feeling as if it’s a burden on the staff. You don’t want to lose business because of inflexibility in preparation. Multiple portion size options on appetizers, entrees, and desserts will encourage guests to try additional items and, as a result, help to raise check averages.

Menus Shall Be Priced Fairly and Competitively
Minimize luxury ingredients to keep costs down without altering the essence of a dish. Experiment with lower cost center-of-the-plate options, try roasts and underutilized cuts of beef, pork, and lamb. Value drives loyalty. Charge what you have to, but be fair.

Business Will Never Be Turned Away
Restaurants that once shied away from kids’ birthday parties, civic events, and SMERF (social, military, educational, religious, and fraternal) business are now thinking twice. Regardless of the price point, find a way; offer alternatives to keep menu costs down. You never know who’s in the group or what future business will book as a result of it.  Savvy operators know that a dollar profit is a dollar profit! Forget the percent game for now. You can’t pay a bill with a percent or put a percent in the bank.

Higher Quality Provisions Shall Be Used
The world is so food savvy, expectations are high, and people know quality. Questionable fish, select meats, aging produce, and cheap groceries are a fast ticket to any empty dining room. It all starts with purchasing fresh, high-quality ingredients.

Job Descriptions and Station Boundaries within the Kitchen Shall Be Eliminated
Teamwork will rule the day. Associates hesitant to cross station borders and think globally may find them out of favor and possibly out of work. Just remember that this concept will apply to all levels within the organization, even yours. Walk the talk!

Chefs Shall Rethink Menu Balance
Foods such as updated retro style cold appetizers will increase in popularity among chefs as a strategy to balance work loads and productivity in the kitchen. Creative salads, cured and smoked meats and poultry, cheese flights, raw, marinated, and smoked seafood, upscale contemporary charcuterie, and Americanized sashimi-style and cooked sushi will be offered. Chilled items allow for greater menu and labor distribution, while introducing unlimited cutting-edge and pro-health related menu possibilities.

Chefs Shall and Will Execute at the Highest Level
Flawless execution is required at any price point. You can’t fool yourself or your customers. Your restaurant is not a test kitchen. Cook what you know and are good at. No one wants to eat an experiment.

Happy Holidays!

Dear Santa,

How are you? How are the reindeer? I was going to send you an e-mail with my list, but Mom says this is more personal, and I want you to know it’s from my heart. I may suffer from unbridled holiday avarice, but at least I’m sincere. (Not that it should factor into what is delivered…but have you lost weight?)

I’ve been very good this year. Okay, good might be a stretch, at least when accompanied by “very.” Personally, I’ve tried to be a good husband, friend, and father. I think that I’ve done okay there, but you’ll have to check with the others on your list to be sure. Professionally, it’s another story.

I am, after all, in the hospitality industry, and we have had a good and bad year. I’ve been good at doing more with less: less revenue, less hours for my cooks, less of an opportunity to do many of the truly fun things in the business of Culinary Piracy such as wine dinners, educational trips, etc.

Managing in a recession, which has become squeezing orange juice from a brick, can only help make me a better manager and that has got to be considered good, I think. By the way, I know the phrase is blood from a turnip, but I don’t like turnips and seeing a bloody one would just be kind of gross.

I’ve been bad because we’ve been bad. We’re losing money every month. I may have become a savings and money management machine, but I haven’t been within spitting distance of budgeted revenue even though much of that is out of my control. I may like to thump my chest about how great I am and how delightfully evil the sales and catering department is, but as they say in Backdraft, “If you go, we go.” My ability, and the ability of my restaurant and banquet managers, to manage costs simply means we suck less. I don’t have to tell you, Mr. Kringle, that phrase is never making a t-shirt or one of those cool motivational posters. (By the way, I’m thinking of copyrighting the phrase, so keep your corporate paws off.)

So, let’s call this year a push.

Since the great gift grab is seemingly about competition with the whole naughty/nice thing, I would think I’m entitled to a few requests. Since I’m neither an executive member of the banking, home loan, automotive, or insurance industries, nor am I a member of congress, I like my chances.

I want the economy to recover. Not only for all the folks who have taken a beating over the last few years, but because my industry depends on it. People need money to spend, and we need them to travel and spend. I want us all to be able to stand proud with our products and services and not have to automatically reach into the bag of discounts with every single phone call. I promise to do solid, highly thought-out, flavorful menus with the very best ingredients I can afford. The more money I can spend, the easier that is. Tell you what…fix the economy and we’ll figure the rest of it out. No? Well alrighty then…

I want my sales team to understand that I understand RevPAR, CPOR, and how the numbers for the STAR report are derived. I started to learn all these things when my personal financial success started to be tied into GOP (for those of Chef types who don’t know these acronyms, get on board, as they are WAY important). I can read a P&L. However, the vast majority of you don’t have any idea what it costs to do what I do, nor do you have any inclination to learn about it. So Santa, I’d like for them to think of F&B as a revenue maximizer rather than a necessary evil to be processed and discounted. Protect my budget like you protect your room rate.

I want my cooks to care, and I mean really care, about the work that they do. I want them to pass over “good enough.” I want them to work clean, safe, and at the top of their game everyday. I want them to label and date as a rule without me telling them to do it, to rotate their product faithfully, and to not play the oldest game in the book of day shift versus night shift. I know much of all that is my responsibility, but I can’t teach “want to.”

I wouldn’t mind a Red Rider BB gun at the risk of shooting my eye out.

I want my purveyors to continue to send me push lists so I can uncover hidden gems in the products they’re trying to get rid of. Pork shanks for $1.99 a pound? Why, yes, I’ll have some. I want them to realize I do my best to NOT run them around due to my lack of organization. I also want them to realize that in the big scheme of things, they work for me. When I call, you answer the phone. When I say “I need,” you go and get. I’m fine with you winning your sales incentive trip to Greece on my business…congratulations, you’ve earned it…but in knowing that I’ll not be nickel and dimed.

I want peace on earth and goodwill toward men. Run that by your legal department and see what they think. Generally, the cost on both is fairly small but the buy-in is pretty steep.

I’d like all the talented F&B folks who got bumped, displaced, laid off, canned, or cast out as a cost-cutting measure to be able to get back into the industry they love. We need their talent and passion in our industry. Also, my jolly fat man, for those who were pushed out not only as a cost savings but because it was a good excuse to cut ties with the untalented and uninspired, I’d like for them to keep walking and not take up our time, energy, and space anymore.

So, Santa, there it is. Do whatever you can for me and my industry…lots of us are really counting on it. If none of this is possible, do you think we could just settle on everyone being happy and healthy and have an elf scare me up a cocktail?

Stop in if you’re in the area, I’ll get you a good room rate. Send my love to the missus. Oh by the way…Happy Holidays.

Chef