Posted on

Salted Radish

I return to my apartment kitchen.

Overseeing a brand new 20-seat breakfast/lunch/dinner restaurant in Santa Monica has been an all consuming task these past six months. Weeks stacked up against each other without a day off between.  Days began long before the sun started on its path to work and ended long after it was done. My vision for service and my desire to create a seamless restaurant has been a great challenge. The work has gone beyond basic work. It has become a job of sacrifice.

It’s ironic to work in the food industry and be unable to eat. I’ve ignored the longing for warm meals and decadent repasts with friends and filled my basic needs with family meal scraps, slices of bread grabbed on the fly, or a late night bowl of yogurt topped with granola. There just hasn’t been enough time for such things, I’ve told myself up until today.

But now, I’m in my kitchen. White linen sunlight spills through the windows and onto the tiled counter tops.

I pull ingredients from the refrigerator. There isn’t much to be found on the metal shelving–some eggs, a bunch of radishes, a block of cheese, a stick of Plugra butter–but for the first time in a long time, I have time to cook. I have a handful of potential for a simple meal. I couldn’t be happier.

I submerge a cluster of red and white baby radishes and their rough greenery in a bowl filled with cool water. I imagine my hands and the rest of me floating in spring water, like the deep spring that fills my family’s granite-ridged quarry in Gloucester, Massachusetts.  It’s good to be in immersed in water, I think, even if it is to wash radishes. The last grains of sandy brown earth that clings to the candy stripe radishes falls away.

It’s quiet in my little kitchen. Inside my head, though, there’s all sorts of noise. I hear the biting chatter of self-doubt and the still, strong voice of inner faith.  The inner critic and the perpetual cheerleader join in too, as they all battle it out in my head. You see, a little over a week ago, I received some news. Though it came as a shock at first, it was the news I had been praying for.

Thanks to divine provenance, I was given the gift of freedom. I have the opportunity to go back to my vocation as a restaurant consultant and service coach.

Return to my vocation

Two radish dry on a paper towel. I’m hungry and can’t bear to wait another moment for something to eat. Why wouldn’t I satisfy my hunger now? Why wait?

I slice the very tip of the remaining radish off and dip the red bulb into a shallow bowl of Maldon sea salt. I don’t know if it’s the crunch of the tiny pyramids of sea salt or the burst of white pepper spice from the radish, but I can’t help but gasp a little. The flavors and textures overtake me. Each magnificent bite is a tiny inspiration.

Awestruck, I think that I might be able to fill reams of paper trying to describe the flavors. I take another bite, hoping to confirm the magnificent spiciness. How something so simple could be so incredibly beautiful? I measure that last bite to the present, making sure that the value of the flavors hasn’t depreciated.

What makes this savory experience so remarkable, I realize, isn’t just the two simple ingredients of freshly picked radish and hand-harvested sea salt. It is the final, key ingredient of spacious time that allows me to experience and appreciate the astonishing flavors.

Time is what I’ve been so hungry for.

Eating radishes dipped in salt reminds me to keep it simple. Don’t push so hard or make things too complicated. Why wouldn’t I want to savor every bitter, sweet, and spicy moment?

 

[print_link]
Salted Radishes and Radish Salad

One bunch of Radishes (with greens on)
Maldon Sea Salt
Extra virgin olive oil 1-2 tablespoons (just enough to lightly coat the leaves)
Half a lemon
Salt and Pepper

Thoroughly wash the greens and roots of the radishes. Once clean and dry, remove the leaves. Discard any leaves that do not look fresh or green.

Eat one radish lightly dipped in Maldon sea salt. Have another. Enjoy the flavors!

Slice the remaining radishes into thin circles, about the thickness of card stock. Add to the greens in a small bowl. Sprinkle with small pinch of salt and pepper. Add a light drizzle of oil, just enough to lightly coat the leaves. Squeeze the half a lemon onto the leaves. Hand toss. Taste for seasoning and balance. Serve.

Posted on

Service 101: Partnership in Service

Brooke Burton Red Door Cafe San FranciscoService is a dance that requires partnership. A diner orders a meal from a waiter. A customer asks a salesperson for a pair of shoes in their size. A passenger requests a seat assignment from an airline booking agent. The sequence of service is the required steps of giving and receiving in business transactions. Unlike any ballet, however, plenty of participants are unaware they contribute to the outcome of the service dance. When one half of the partnership is belligerent, demanding, and unmindful of their contributions to the equation beyond the financial, often times the dance becomes contentious.

Customers may have a very clear opinion of the responsibilities of the service giver–complaining about customer service is de rigueur on sites like Yelp–but its rare for the patron to see past their financial role in the dance. The Red Door Cafe is a small restaurant in the Pacific Heights neighborhood of San Francisco where each and every potential diner is made aware of their role in their service experience and the owner challenges every diner to take responsibility for their part in the service exchange.

Wake up and smell the coffee

My good friend and fellow service provider, Michael Procopio suggested I check out the small restaurant when I recently visited San Francisco.  “The lines will be insane,” Michael said. “But you have to go. Really. You must.”

Upon reading up on the Red Door Cafe on Yelp, you’ll see 5 star reviews from diners who rave about incredible food, great service, and an untraditional setting for breakfast. But it isn’t until you arrive at the restaurant and take a good look through the big glass windows that you start to really understand that you are regarding a very unique establishment.

The 12-seat restaurant opens at 10 am, but you’ll more than likely find a line has formed outside on the sidewalk by 10:15. Unlike a typical queue for breakfast, however, the diners-to-be aren’t reading newspapers while they wait. Customers giggle and laugh as they cuddle tattered, plastic baby dolls and sip coffee from Easter egg colored bowls.

A sign in the window spells things out for the curious diner right away: This isn’t a restaurant, it’s an experience. Look around and you’ll quickly start to get an inkling that this place is different. Inside, you’ll see diners cavorting with plastic trolls and headless dolls. If you look close enough you’ll note the risqué, plastic items sold at most sex shops next to the salt and pepper shakers on every table.

Ahmed–known to his regulars as A.D. or Absolutely Delicious–is the gregarious owner/bouncer/server/host of The Red Door Cafe. He’s the man to speak to if you want to put your name on the clipboard wait list.

“I don’t let everyone into my restaurant,” A.D. says as he sashays outside to eyeball you and other potential diners. “You have to prove why I should let you in, honey.”

Continue reading “Service 101: Partnership in Service”

Posted on

Service 101: Vocation vs Career

I went and saw the documentary film “Jiro Dreams of Sushi” this week. If you haven’t been to the movies lately, I recommend you skip the big flicks and go check this one out. Grab a cup of coffee, make a reservation for sushi after the film, and slip into an hour and a half meditation on the passion and tireless commitment it takes to dedicate yourself to a life in the food business.

The filmmakers dive into the simple–yet vibrant–world of one of the world’s oldest and most respected sushi chefs in the world. If you haven’t heard of Jiro Ono, it’s probably because his perfect-star Michelin restaurant is tucked into an in an elbow of a corridor the Ginza train station. The space is the size of a walk-in refrigerator. A seat at Jiro’s will take you at least one month to get a reservation and will cost you about 300,000 yen.

Jiro will make you every piece of sushi. He will watch you eat every bite. The 85 year-old chef will not smile. He will measure you up. You will think he is judging you as he presses every glittering morsel of fish with his fluid hands.

Jiro is, without question, a man obsessed. Rather than retire, the chef works seven days a week. He holds himself to incredibly high standards and when he meets those impossibly high standards, he elevates them again.  He is always striving to become better. As the documentary’s title suggests, the man eats, lives for, and dreams of sushi.

Jiro’s introduction to the audience comes with a deadpan monologue to the camera about his vocation:

“You have to love your job. You must work hard. You must work long days. You must not complain. You should be grateful for the work. You must enjoy dedicating yourself to doing what you do every day.”

Chef Jiro is a craftsman with simple ingredients. Every item is hand-picked and hand-crafted by true artisans of the food world. Jiro Ono may not be famous, but he is one of the most respected sushi chefs in the world by people who know good food.

A still from "Jiro Dreams of Sushi"

Vocation, Not Career

Watching Jiro Dreams of Sushi reminds me about the importance of putting my time and energy into my vocation, not my career. Whenever I wake up with my mind spinning with to-do lists, restaurant priorities, and frustrations with situations beyond my control, I know I’m obsessing over my career. When my sleep is interrupted by an overwhelming feeling of excitement and anticipation for what the day may bring, I know I am working towards my vocation.

A career is something you do in hopes of achieving something. A vocation is a path you painstakingly carve for the love of creating beauty in the world.

Dedicating my life to my vocation isn’t always easy. There are plenty of reasons that come up every day that make me want to wrestle back my ego, start a spread chart on all the hours I work, and create slideshows dedicated to all the things that aren’t fair in the world.

A vocation requires surrender. In order to pursue a vocation, I must give up on the notion of success, prestige, and recognition. I have to submit to the idea that my work should be simple and beautiful. As the Quakers say, “Tis a gift to be simple tis a gift to be free.” In short, there’s a lot less pain and anxiety in a vocation. The challenge is wrestling one’s ego and pinning it to the mat.

So today, I remind myself to push back the drooping ivy of impossible deadlines and negative thoughts that block out all the light. Today, I dedicate myself to creating beauty in everything I do. Starting now.

Posted on

Grateful

I am overwhelmed with gratitude. Today I say thank you for being alive, for the love of my husband, the support of my friends, the sun in the sky, the challenges in life that give me a chance to grow, the glorious stuff I pile up on spoons and forks, and every breath I take.  Lastly, I say thank you the Big and Great inspiration that fills me with the hope to be a better person and create something beautiful in everything I do. Being nominated for Best Piece of Culinary Writing is the sweetest frosting on my birthday cake and something I am incredibly thankful for.

 

Posted on

Restaurant Stock

I may have started working in restaurants when I was 16 years old, but it wasn’t until much later that I began to learn culinary techniques I could use at home.  I can’t blame my lack of development on anything more than circumstance. I started in a small town in Massachusetts where the best seafood was fried or boiled, every restaurant kitchen had a microwave, hamburgers were unpacked as frozen beef patties, and iceburg was the only lettuce we knew.

Graduating from country club catering and seafood shacks, I began working in restaurants where the people in the kitchen weren’t summer help, the stainless steel counters were clean, knives were sharp, and saute pans and gas ranges cooked every dish to order.

The greatest lessons I’ve learned from the men and women of Los Angeles’ best restaurants is to pay attention to the little things. Simple fundamentals—cooking techniques, tools, and ingredients–create memorable food and extraordinary dining experiences.

One recent discovery came from my restaurant’s former chef, Evan Funke. I was inquiring about the minestrone soup we were serving. The flavors of the broth were so round and full of flavor, I was having a hard time believing the soup was vegetarian.

Chef Evan assured me that the minestrone was one hundred percent vegetarian. “The trick to the flavor,” he said, “is from sweating down onion and garlic, and adding Parmesan rinds to the stock.”

Soon after I decided to try out chef Evan’s trick. Rather than staying with a fully vegetarian stock I used left over vegetable scraps, a chicken carcass, and a tupperware filled with handful of leftover Parmesan ends. What resulted was the most flavorful, golden broth I have ever had the pleasure of making in my kitchen.

What kinds of tricks have you learned along the way that have made all the difference?

[print_link]
Easy stock
I always make stock the day after I roast a chicken. Now that I’m adding Parmesan rinds to the base of the broth, things are really getting tasty. You don’t need to use chicken or any meat (for that matter) to make tasty stock. The key to making a flavorful stock super is to collect your vegetable scraps over a week’s time,  keep them in the freezer in an airtight container, and add as many rinds of hard cheese as you have!

Frozen vegetable stems, tops, skins (carrots, kale, potato, etc.)
Chicken carcass and bones*
Hardened Parmesan rinds

Place the chicken bones and vegetable stems in a pot. Fill the pot with cold water, just until the chicken and most of the vegetable scraps are covered. Do not fill the pot to the top with water. The less water you use, the more flavorful the stock. Turn to high heat. When the stock comes to a boil, immediately turn down to a simmer. Simmer for at least 45 minutes to an hour. Taste. Season with salt and pepper. Strain and pour into small containers. Let cool. Freeze what you can not use within 3 days.

*Chicken carcass and bones are optional! Remove for a fully vegetarian stock!

 

Posted on

Service 101: Controlling Service

No one can control how a diner responds to customer service

News flash: I’m not the boss of the world.

I know you know that. Most of the time I know that, too. The problem is, sometimes a tiny little piece of me really wants to believe I can control the way things go.

When a guest comes into our restaurant, I want them to love what we do and feel taken care of. To be honest, there’s a tiny piece of me that cross-my-fingers hopes that all the hard work everyone puts into our food and service will somehow change someone’s life.

But every day, I have to remind myself that how things work out in this world is not up to me.

How people perceive the things is entirely up to them. No matter how hard I try, I can’t sway the perceptions of others with my passion, commitment, and East coast willpower. I’m an Aries (read: ram mentality) and the first born of a Massachusetts family, so believe me when I tell you I’ve been trying to exert my will on everyone and everything for years.

The problem with my earnest, heart-felt customer service is that sometimes it backspins. It can hit customers the wrong way. In my earnestness to help I may come across as annoying, or worse, bossy. I may tell a guest something that looks and feels like a YES–but it may come across as a giant NO to them. There are days when my desire to get things right goes awry and the people I work with end up feeling more stomped on then helped.

Being the boss of me

It wasn’t until rather recently that I began to understand that my desire to help and my need to control outcomes was making me–and sometimes the people around me–very unhappy. When people didn’t understand what I was doing for them or to them, I got hurt, defensive, and overbearing. I tried harder to make people understand that my way was the best way rather than try to understand where they were coming from.

There were days when I felt like I was losing the battle in giving great service. I knew something was off. I knew I needed to change the way I did things.

For me, the first step in giving up control is having faith that everything will work out, as it should. I’m learning that if I want to be happy in my life and in my work, I have to accept the results as they come. And boy, is that a hard one.

Luckily, I have a lot of great people around me who are helping me get to a place of acceptance and surrender. These people–my committee, I like to call them–coach me to look at how I can work on myself and leave all the people, places, and things around me alone.

I have to stop making my will to get the things I want the largest factor in the equation of service. In order to be of service to others, my will can’t be bigger than other peoples’.  I have to turn the greater than symbol towards love and compassion and put myself on the small side.

So I may or may not be able to make you happy when you come into my restaurant or you come to this website to read what I have to say.  The thing I have to keep reminding myself is that As It Should doesn’t always look like How I Want. Everybody hates bad customer service. But customer service isn’t as pretty when it’s delivered like a sledge hammer.

“We should realize that this event [of eating and being fed, is a ritual]…The whole thing of compassion comes in there. What helped me was waking up and thinking of my penny catechism: “to know, to love, to serve God.” I don’t think of God as up there. I think of God as right here in whatever I’m knowing and loving and serving…”

—Joseph Campbell

Posted on

Service 101: Compassion in the Dining Room


Walk into the 24-seat restaurant I work in and within just seconds you’ll have the entire place sized up: cement walls, high ceilings, a pastry counter, an open kitchen, two tables that hold eight people, and one counter that seats another eight guests. That’s it.  Often, we have a line of people that spills out onto the sidewalk of Wilshire Boulevard.

“Where’s the rest of the place?” is a common refrain I hear several times a day. Confused diners scan the room for a side dining area with a hidden cache of tables with extra seating. But our tiny foot print with two tables is all we have. So we have to get creative–which is why every seat in the restaurant is part of the communal seating plan.

Every once in a while, there’s a lull in service and there are plenty of seats to be had. During those quiet times guests seat themselves. Men and women leisurely toss jackets and bags over empty chairs, splay their newspapers across the marble tabletops, and order their meal without any idea that soon—when the glittering-white daylight of Santa Monica fades—a swarm of hungry customers will arrive hungry for food and a piece of what was once their personal space.

The transition between the quiet and busy times is where things tend to get a little sticky. When the number of guests waiting to be seated reach more than four people, the energy in the room shifts.  You can feel the tension, as the people waiting begin to covet the single, empty chairs that separate the seated diners. It’s during these moments when the guests who are waiting for a spot need a special kind of assistance. The diners need my help in asking people to share some available space with them.

This isn’t the easiest of challenges a restaurant manager can face. Asking guests to do something for you requires a lot of diplomacy and humility, and even if you bring a lot of kindness to the table it still might not go well. It’s in these awkward moments outside the realm of our comfort zone, however, that magic sometimes happens.
Continue reading “Service 101: Compassion in the Dining Room”

Posted on

Restaurant Energy Food

restaurant energy snack

This may not make much sense to most people, but whenever you’re out to eat you can bet that the men and women taking care of you are probably pretty hungry themselves. Why? Because when you work in restaurants there’s really no time to eat*.

There are plenty of restaurants who make family meals. Just about everyone in the business gives their employees meal breaks. The fact remains that sometimes we restaurant folk get really, really, busy and we just can’t take the time to eat even a bite of food. The more I work in restaurants, the more I realize that staying away from the red-zone of hunger is all about self-maintenance. I have to be thoughtful about what I eat and make sure I’m careful to monitor myself, my mood, and if I’m nearing a “hangry” (hungry/angry) state.

Because when I go red-zone, no one’s gonna get great service.

Many restaurant professionals have go-to meals that get them through the 8-12 hour shifts. Bowls of pasta and meat-stuffed tacos are a favorite at family meal. I’ve seen co-workers eat fast food straight out of a bag so they don’t leave a drop of grease or ketchup on their uniform whites. A few survive on energy drinks and protein bars. Others skip pre-shift meal all together and binge at the local late night joint or food truck after work. And for the desperate–and believe me, I’ve been one of them–there’s always a slab of bread with a bit of butter and a large cup of coffee to make the hunger go away.

Since I started working at my new job at the bakery and pizzeria, though, bread has taken center stage in my diet. I’ve been making it through my 10-12 hour shifts by drinking lots of coffee and snacking on tons of bread, pizza, and pastries.  Though eating a gluten-free chocolate chip, walnut, banana muffin for lunch may seem fun at the time, subsisting on bread and pizza is definitely not something that I want to get into the habit of. A girl has to look good and feel good, right?

So when it came time to give something up for Lent, I decided I to stop eating wheat and force myself into being more mindful about the food I’m putting in my body. Being smart about what I eat when I’m at work is definitely going to be a challenge.

My food requirements are pretty straight forward: my food has to be fast, easy, and doesn’t require refrigeration. I don’t have time to ask for someone to cook it, there are health code rules about bringing outside food into restaurants (so it’s not going in our refrigerators), and it can’t be so fancy it can’t be eaten in a few fast bites. The food also has to be light enough I don’t feel weighed down. I need balanced food that has plenty of good carbohydrates, sugars, and proteins that will give me sustained energy throughout my shift.

My first step? Snacks.

I’ve stocked up on my favorite dried fruit and nuts so I can make my own fruit and nut mix. Sweet dates, creamy cashews, peppy pepitas, and tart cranberries make for a perfect in-between-moments bite. With a bar of chocolate stashed in the office for emergency energy and a plastic baggy filled with fruit and nuts, I’ll have plenty to keep me going during the shift.  The best part about my little grab-bag snacks? They’re easy to make, small enough to stash anywhere, and don’t require any refrigeration!

[print_link]

Restaurant Energy Snack
If you have a Trader Joe’s near you, their fruit and nut section will have everything you could need to make your own snack mix! Feel free to make your own mixture!

1 bag (18 oz) of pepitas
1 bag (18 oz) of cashews
1 bag (12 oz) of pitted dates
1 bag (8 oz) of dried cranberries

Mix in a large bowl. Put equal parts into small zip log bags. Leave on the counter top so you don’t forget to bring them to work!

What are your go-to meals and snacks for on-the-go eating??

*In the past 5 years I’ve seen a drastic improvement working conditions for restaurant workers and 10-30 minute breaks are enforced.
Posted on

Mindful Eating, Mindful Tech

mindful eatingTake a moment to be present. Where are you? What are you doing? What are you eating?

Right this second, I’m sitting in a chair at my computer. I have a cup of mint tea in a warm, clay mug.  I have socks on my feet, a big sweater on over my shoulders, and a stick of Morning Star incense burns down to a long, broken comma of ash. My fingers hit the computer keys with confidence. An itch on my back stops me mid-sentence—

What was it I was thinking? What is my intention?

If I’m not careful, I’ll get ahead of myself and think three paragraphs into the future. I’ll edit and hyperlink text in my mind that I haven’t even written down yet. I’ll gulp down an entire cup of tea without paying attention to the flavors of the herbs.

Instead, I choose to stay present.  I practice mindfulness of the activity of writing because I know that my best work happens when I am open to The Big Ideas that come. It seems that the more I’m aware, the more I’m clued into something else going on; inspiration comes from a source outside of myself.

Tech and spirituality

More and more people are looking for something bigger than themselves to help get them through their work. For many, the thing that most people reach out to is technology.  Reuters recently reported that Americans are willing to go longer without friends and sex than the Internet. But if we continue to reach out for inspiration from electronic sources and don’t take the time to nurture some inner peace and mental awareness, we may very well find ourselves on the other side of an energy crisis of the personal kind. We may miss out on the next great idea because we’re just too busy checking Twitter/Facebook/email/Google reader/pintrest/insert favorite website here. Continue reading “Mindful Eating, Mindful Tech”

Posted on

Service 101: Managing Expectations

diners expectationsRestaurant people like me need to know who our customers are and what they want and must ensure that our restaurant delivers a high quality product (great tasting food, wonderful atmosphere, and generous service) in a timely fashion. But what makes some restaurants more successful than others is the ability to define and deliver on the unspoken (or hinted at) expectations of customers. A lot of restaurant leaders call this part of our job managing expectations, but really what that means is that we are in the business of reading customers’ minds.

Customers may say they want a salad, but what they really desire is something much more complicated.

When I hear, “Don’t you have a simple salad with chicken?” I quickly run an internal algorythm (based on years of waiting tables and managing) that tells me what customers who typically ask this question want but don’t ask for.  perhaps the customer really wants a simple green salad with the dressing on the side and a large portion of inexpensive, poached chicken put on top. The customer expects this salad to cost less than $12-14.  The customer may like a smile from the waiter but may be opposed to any chit-chat. The customer may also be of the mindset that any white wine will do, so long as it comes in a big glass and costs less than $10. A customer who asks this question tends not to be adventurous and likes to stay in their comfort zone. Avoid selling specials to the guest, especially if there is an item on the dish that the customer has never heard of before (they will most likely hate the dish).

If you’re a simple salad with chicken person, just know that not everyone insists that every restaurant have chickens poaching in the back kitchen for moments such as this.  I don’t mean this in an offensive way, I just mean to say that what your expectation is of a restaurant is much different than the I want a basket of bread and olive oil and balsamic vinegar customer, or the what’s the most popular thing on your menu person.

Expectations may seem like a clear goal that everyone should know, but the fact is, what we think most people should do is not a universal belief system. Expectations are just an individual’s strong personal belief that something specific will happen in the future. None of us know for sure what other people want, we just know what we expect and make guesses from there. Just ask any guy what women expect on a first and second date and you’ll get a whole range of answers. Because here’s the thing–unless the person holding the expectation speaks what they want aloud, no one will ever know for certain the exactitudes of their desires.

I like to joke that I’m honing my psychic powers while I work in restaurants, but honestly it’s true. That’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m constantly reading the energy and body language of my guests and gathering clues about what’s really going on below the surface.

What do you (really) want?

Let’s talk about general expectations people have of restaurants. For some people, hand picked heirloom tomatoes and small batch burrata mean more flavor. For other people, just the mention of the word heirloom sets their skin crawling and their BS meter on high alert. One guest may like hearing specials recited at their table while another customer may find that kind of thing obtrusive and verging on deceptive. Depending on the expectations, one restaurant could get a five star Yelp review for the same exact experience that garnered a one star review from another.

Getting clear on expectations

If you know what specifically makes you happy at a restaurant then it’s very easy to identify what rubs you the wrong way. Or what it looks like when something goes terribly wrong at your table.  “Waiter, there is a fly in my soup,” you may say. Or perhaps you are compelled to call over a manager because your waiter seems to have forgotten you and your order. Regardless of what specifically the restaurant did to fail your expectations, how clearly you can express those shortcomings to the person offering to make the situation better will get you so much closer to a resolution.

Sometimes restaurant managers know how to do the right thing and are empowered to go and get it done.  Sometimes they just don’t.  In all my years in restaurants, I have seen plenty of mistakes happen. I do my best to sincerely apologize, offer a solution, and go a little bit farther for the guest to ensure I can turn the guest’s experience around.

exceeding restaurant guest expectations
Sometimes dessert is enough to turn a bitter experience into something sweet

You wouldn’t believe half the stuff I’ve done trying to win guests back. I apologize, stay away from excuses, take items of the check, and then do whatever I can to connect to the guest. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. Along the way of managing expectations, I’ve seen miraculous things happen. In the process of being sincere and generous of spirit, I’ve seen smiles come from the unhappiest of people. I’ve gotten hugs of gratitude. I’ve even minted customers for life. But sometimes, no matter what I do or how much radical hospitality I give, I can not win back a guest. It’s as if that small mistake of a forgotten side dish or a loud song on the sound system were offensive acts perpetrated against these hurt individuals. It is as if I personally attacked them, when in reality all that happened was that someone pressed the wrong button in the computer or failed to get a dish to the table in a timely fashion.

But it doesn’t matter what happened when things go wrong. What matters most to you, the unhappy customer, is what is done to fix the situation. Right?

But what about you? What sort of responsibility does the customer hold? If you have high expectations but can not voice what it is you expect, or you can not accept any resolution that’s offered to you, do you hold any responsibility for your unhappiness?

How open are you to getting good service?

I do not, in any way, mean to lessen the responsibility of the restaurant in the equation of making customers happy. No way. But what I am supposing is that in every hundred customers who have their expectations met, there are a small percentage of people who will never be happy with any business (or personal) exchange, no matter how hard the business tries to make things better.  I mention this because I hope that I might some day one of these posts might help one person realize that if they can never find happiness in any business exchange, maybe it might be time to look at working on the one constant in the equation.

High Expectations of Service

But here’s the thing about expectations–we all have them. How we deal with our expectations and how willing we are to be flexible with what is given to us is an important piece in our long term happiness. If we don’t get exactly what we want, do we experience profound disappointment?  If we find people are consistently letting us down do we get angry, sad, resentful, or spring into action to make a change in our priorities? Just how far are we willing to go to be happy? Are we willing to be open to new experiences? Or do we only want things our way?
Follow Me on Pinterest

Posted on

No Time Comfort Food: Super Easy Kabocha Squash Recipe

easy vegetable side dish

Have I told you I have a new job? I’m super excited about joining the team of Milo + Olive, a wonderful little pizzeria and bakery that’s just opened up in Santa Monica, as a General Manager. Getting to be part of a family of restaurants like Huckleberry, Rustic Canyon, and Sweet Rose Creamery is a dream come true. So I’ve put the freelance service coaching business on hold so I can help run a growing business that’s dedicated to beautiful, handmade food that’s served by people who really care.

Let me just tell you, I’m more than a little bit busy. Working at a brand new restaurant is like caring for an infant. It requires constant vigilance. The hours are long but the work is incredibly fulfilling. The challenges keep my heart, body, and mind constantly engaged and stretched to the limit. I survive on very little sleep and even less time for food. I power myself through the day with huge dose of excitement, a thick piece of toast slathered with almond butter and jelly, and tall cups of coffee.

Since I only have had one day off a week, the one thing I crave more than anything else is rest and a warm meal with my husband. We keep things simple. For breakfast we like to sauté kale in olive oil with a generous splash of fish sauce and top them with a couple of fried eggs. Or I’ll make soft-curd scrambled eggs with feta while he puts together a citrusy-yogurt vinaigrette for a butter lettuce salad. We brew a big pot of coffee, sit at our tucked-in-the-corner dining room table, and fortify ourselves with food and stories of our week.

Exhaustion dictates the menu at dinner time. Sometimes we go out for a comforting bowl of soup and noodles at our favorite Thai restaurant (Pa Ord) or other nights I muster up the power to roast a chicken and some vegetables. Those meals together refuel so much more than my belly. Since I’ve written here before about my favorite method of roasting a chicken (a la Zuni Café), I thought I would share with you my favorite new comfort food that doesn’t take much time or effort to make.

[print_link]
Super Easy Roasted Kabocha

If you have a super loud timer, you can take a nap while this squash roasts. Just slice the thing in half, add some butter, and roast for a little more than a half hour. It’s just that simple.

1 Kabocha
4 tablespoons butter (I prefer Plugra)
3-4 sage leaves
Finishing salt

Preheat the oven to 350°.

Slice the pumpkin open (horizontally across). Remove the seeds. Place on a sheet tray slice side up. Add a generous pat of Plugra butter (about 2 tablespoons per side) and few sage leaves. Roast in the oven for 30 minutes, or until soft.

Serve warm. Finish with Maldon sea salt.

Posted on

Ignore Everybody

writer's mind

My friend Michael Procopio–a San Francisco based gentleman blogger who fights for the honor of words and glorifies the well-timed delivery of a witty retort–wrote a moving essay on the topic of writer’s block this past week. Michael’s post described how his writing had come to a halt once a desire to create something perfect had settled in. Writer’s block–the kind that demands nothing less than greatness– can not be relieved without the delivery of an impossible ransom. The desire for praise or success only elevates the price. Michael’s essay bared the hard truth; a desire to create something perfect can kill the ability to create.

Oh, man. Who hasn’t felt that way? Who hasn’t longed for a pat on the back? Who hasn’t worked hard on a creative project, only to feel a heightened sense of obligation for the next deed to be even greater than the last? Who hasn’t heard those dark whispers that say the work you’re done is no good. Or worse, that nobody out there really cares?

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been frozen by the idea that the last thing I was proud of may be the last good thing I write. And then, just when I’ve talked my self out of the corner, the voice of self-doubt returns to trump the whole thing with the hateful notion that the last thing I put down on paper wasn’t all that great after all.  Why bother, it tells me.

Boy, we creative types really can be rotten to ourselves.

Luckily, I’m in something of a good place today, so I can muster something close to a snicker to the dark thoughts that come in and tell me I might as well stop writing. Where do these thoughts come from? Who allows such mean talk to go on in this head of mine? Thanks to Michael’s essay, I’m happy to know I’m not the only writer who has suffered through a block.

Continue reading “Ignore Everybody”

Posted on

Service 101: Opening a Restaurant

Opening a restaurant is grueling.  You think you know the depths of hard work and then–just when you think you’ve got everything planned out–the undertow of the process takes hold of you and pulls you under. You never think a restaurant opening can be any harder than the last one you did, and yet…here you are struggling to keep afloat.

There’s no time to think about how many hours you’ve been working when you’re in the process of getting a restaurant ready for the public. Things go wrong. People drop away. Plans change. Equipment doesn’t show up. Things get hard. Then, everything starts to go great. And just when you think you’re about to catch your breath, something unexpected occurs. The doo-doo hits the fan and you’re challenged to push yourself even harder than before.

But when restaurants are your life, you can’t help but enjoy the dare. Can you go another hour without a meal? Is it possible to get one hour less sleep so you can do that one more task? In the big test of opening, the days end with meals that are barely chewed (inhaled, really), clothes are left in a hump at the end of the bed, and your face–covered in a thin veil of construction zone dust–gets a pillow case compress rather than a good washing because you can barely keep your eyes open. Your mind spins through through dreams in order to work out the last unconscious detail.

Yes, restaurant openings are demanding.  But they’re also damn sexy.

The work builds camaraderie and professional growth. The work is so consuming, you can survive on almost no sleep or food–making restaurant openings a whole new kind of diet that helps you lose a few pounds while allowing you to eat whatever little tiny bit of decadent food you can wrap your mitts around.

Do enough restaurant openings, and you begin to realize you can do and learn more than you ever thought you could. You stumble upon little discoveries, like the way you short-cut a problem with a novel approach or great idea, or uncover a way to save the business a bunch of money by thinking outside of the box. Or find a deep well of kindness, rather than frustration. Continue reading “Service 101: Opening a Restaurant”

Posted on

Wishes Come True


Be careful what you wish for. Because if you really, really want something, you may actually get it.

For me, the big it I was wishing for had a lot to do with work. Back when I started this blog, my work in service excited me, but I could only see myself going so far as a server/bartender. So, after a couple of years of thinking about how I could expand my world in service, I dreamed big and started my own business as a service consultant. That choice to take a chance on the work I loved had me heading in the right direction of my aspirations.

The more I worked as a teacher of service, the more I discovered I needed to learn. I became a student of the masters of great service. I read lots of books. I took courses. I honed my craft and longed for alliances with like minded individuals. I began heaping finer points onto my wish: I want to be part of something bigger than myself.

My dream for living a life of service had me wishing for a job within a restaurant group–a collective of restaurants that felt approachable, served really great food (the kind of food I could get super excited about), offered incredible service, and employed big-hearted people who understood what it takes to create a comfortable environment for its customers and employees.

For a while there, I thought the only way I could have the kind of life I was dreaming of would require a drastic change in scenery, a move across country, and a complete overhaul of my life.  Either that, or a lot of consulting gigs that could keep me busy enough to pay my bills and give me a little bits of what I was looking for in different locations.

Turns out, the life I’ve always wanted to live doesn’t require a moving truck or a major remodeling.

Wishes are coming true for me right here in Los Angeles.

The day I finished a great consulting job in Rancho Cucamonga, I started thinking to myself about my dreams of living a life of service. I started day dreaming about what would come next. For a moment, I worried how long it would take for me to find my next client.

And then, I checked my e-mailbox.

Within 48 hours, a whole new chapter in my professional life began. After almost a year of dreaming of becoming part of a small restaurant family, I have been given the opportunity to help run a small, 20+ seat bakery and pizzeria in Santa Monica. Though this is something of a departure from my consulting work, it is a pleasure to know I now have a full time home within a small, four-restaurant family known for their great baked goods, incredible market-fresh menus, heart-felt service, and a dedication to serving the community.

I couldn’t be happier.

But, for the record, making a dream reality, requires a whole lot of care and maintenance (maybe more than you could have ever imagined) to keep them alive and well.

If you dare to dream big enough, be ready for a lot of work.

Posted on

Service 101: Restaurant Openings

Restaurants are like movies. The restaurant business is a collaborative art form that requires talented people to transform an ethereal concept into something substantial and real. A script will only ever be a script until the vision and passion of a director, cinematographer, producers, cast, and crew transform the words on the page into a movie.  The same is true for restaurants. No matter how many dishes you’ve cooked or recipes you’ve sketched out on a notepad, a restaurant isn’t a restaurant until there are cooks in the kitchen, a staff on the floor, dishes on a table and a paying customer at the door.

Restaurants–like movies–become something different once life is breathed into them. How the whole thing turns out is really up to something bigger than just one person. It takes a village to make a restaurant.

I may have moved across the country to learn how to make movies, but over the years I’ve come to understand that what’s kept me in Los Angeles is my desire and passion to make restaurants. Sure, I still have plenty of filmic stories percolating in my mind—the magical coming of age story, the comedy about bloggers, and the redemptive love story–but it’s the bustle of dining room service that captures my attentions and creativity.

I love the thrill of making restaurants come to life and sustaining them through the long haul. I relish in the potential of restaurants, the personality of a dining room, and the feel of a kitchen as it pushes out plate after plate on a busy night.

Dining rooms are full of passion, drama, characters, and unexpected plot twists and turns. In the best of times– when I’m working in restaurants peopled by an army of talented people–I relish in the camaraderie. I love how a team of professionals can band together, problem solve better than MacGuyver ever did, and keep the whole process from going off track. Even in the worst of times, struggling restaurants have a kind of beauty to them. Success that can be found after a long bout of breakage, waste, inconsistent food, employee shortages, and financial woes are some of the most gratifying.
Continue reading “Service 101: Restaurant Openings”

Posted on

Happy Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving plate full of food

 

I am grateful for my friends, visitors, and supporters in my life. Thank you for coming to this website, reading the words, and engaging in the conversation about food, restaurants and life. Here’s to full plates, abundant hearts, and more blog posts!

Posted on

Mushroom, Squash and Sweet Potato Quinoa

Mushroom, Butternut Squash and Sweet Potato Quinoa

I’m not used to leaving town for my job. Unless you own numerous restaurants or work in a cross-country chain, most people in my business tend to stay in one locale for a long time. Restaurants may be a high turnover business, but most professionals tend to stay at one address for as long as they possibly can. So, it’s not every day in the life of this restaurant consultant where I pack my bags and head out of town for several weeks for a restaurant gig. And yet, here I am, packing my bags and organizing my life before I join the talented team of restaurant professionals who will soon open their vibe-dining establishment in Rancho Cucamonga.

I may not have as many posts between now and the end of this month. But I promise to cook up a bunch of great stories while I’m gone and be back in time for Thanksgiving. In the meantime, I leave you with this simple and homey side dish inspired by a photo in this month’s Food and Wine. This simple version of a Fall quinoa features butternut squash, sweet potatoes and trumpet mushrooms.

This salad is great as a side dish, a main course, and–if you’re looking to turn things up a notch–even breakfast if you fry up an egg and put it on top!

[print_link]
Mushrooms, Squash and Sweet Potatoes Quinoa

One large butternut squash, peeled, halved, de-seeded, and quartered
2 tablespoons of Olive Oil
4 tablespoons butter
2 large shallots, 1 1/2 sliced across; the remaining half, minced
4 thyme sprigs
3 1/2 cups water
2 cups quinoa, rinsed
1 tablespoon of olive oil
1/2 pound oyster mushrooms, cut into 1-inch chunks
1 large sweet potato, roasted
1 tablespoon maple syrup
1/2 cup chopped parsley

  1. Roasting the squash and sweet potato. Preheat the oven to 350.  Either on the cooking sheet or in a bowl, drizzle the quartered butternut squash pieces with olive oil, toss. Arrange on a baking sheet.  Place the sweet potato on the same sheet tray. Roast for about 20-30 minutes and then flip the squash and roast for another 20-30 minutes. The squash should be golden and tender (not mushy). The sweet potato should be soft in the center (test with a knife through the center of it).
  2. In a medium saucepan, melt 2 tablespoons of butter. Add the minced shallot and cook over moderate heat until softened. Add the thyme and the water, season with salt and pepper, and then bring to a boil. Add the quinoa. Cover and cook over moderately low heat until the water cooks down and becomes completely incorporated, about 15 minutes.
  3. In a large skillet melt two tablespoons of butter and a tablespoon of olive oil. Add the sliced scallion and mushrooms. Sauté until soft and browned, about 4-6 minutes. Add the maple syrup. Taste for seasoning. Add the quinoa, squash, sweet potato, and parsley. Serve immediately.
Posted on

Service 101: Awareness

“Awareness is the birthplace of possibility. Everything you want to achieve begins here.”–Deepak Chopra

 

restaurant consultant los angeles

As a Service Coach, I observe restaurant teams in action and coach them how to win the game of earning customers for life. I take groups of service professionals from being average–and sometimes minor–players to being highly coveted members of an award-winning team. I help shape natural talent into something special.

Most owners understand the basic business proposition of giving their customers a consistent product.  But what many people in business fail to identify and grow in their staff is the importance of making customers feel as if their needs were exceeded. Again and again and again. Businesses that take the time to help their staff be aware, listen, and foster an intuitive sense about what customers want, tend to be the winners in the game of making customers for life.

I am lucky to be a restaurant consultant who has the great fortune of working with smart and insightful people who understand the value of hospitality. These visionary business owners see the long road ahead of them, recognize the need to invest in customer service programs, and bring me on to help improve their game. Like most great leaders, my clients understand the value of getting assistance to sure up their weaknesses–way before a weaknesses become a failure.

The first step in successful coaching starts with observing. I can tell a lot about a restaurant within the first few minutes of watching them in action. Give me a corner seat, a handful of minutes during a busy service, and I can give you an accurate assessment of a restaurant team’s potential, problems, and requirements.

Following my initial observations, I show clients what I’ve learned from watching their dining room. I offer them information on how keeping a constant eye on specific areas of their dining room can result in obtaining key information about their diners and how to better deliver what they need. Even in some of the best restaurants, leaders may fail to identify key areas for improvement. I notice dropped napkins while staff members walk over them. I identify neglected customers and lost sales opportunities where staff members walk past in a rush to get another task done. In some especially hurting businesses when owners can only see business losses, I may find unlocked beer coolers and liquor storage areas, menus with confusing descriptions, managers with lacking leadership skills, and dining rooms with a personality disorder.

Awareness may be something we’re born with. Our modern lives drain us of the impulse to stay aware. Lately, it seems, most Americans don’t seem all that comfortable with awareness.

Continue reading “Service 101: Awareness”

Posted on

Lemon Garlic Chicken from Made In America

iPhone photo of Lemon-Garlic Chicken from Chef Michel Richard

When people ask me if I’m available for a dinner date or event, I often have to tell them this: I don’t know. Maybe? It’s not that I’m trying to hedge my bets or play hard to get, but the truth is I never really know. I’m building my business as the Service Coach and I don’t have a set schedule.  Because when you’re a consultant, or are in the business of being of service to people, you really have to be available for your clients–new, current, or recurring–all the time.

So when Lucy Lean asked me to participate in a virtual dinner party to celebrate the release of her gorgeous, must have book MADE IN AMERICA a few weeks back, I knew I was going to be in the thick of working with one of my clients. So rather than bow out, I asked if I could be a virtual late arrival. And so I am.

I chose to cook this Lemon Garlic Roasted Chicken from chef Michel Richard for a handful of different reasons. 1) I wanted to check out a cooking technique for chicken (a modified low and slow method?) 2) It looked the easiest recipe for me to make under tight timing constraints and 3) I admire Chef Michel Richard.

The recipe is quite simple but it does require a bit more time than my usual Zuni chicken method. I liked the results and I can’t wait to cook more from Lucy’s gorgeous book.

Congratulations to Lucy Lean. And thank you so much for welcoming me, even though I’m more than fashionably late!

Lemon garlic chicken from Made in America

[print_link]

Made in America Lemon-Garlic Roasted Chicken
Give yourself 2 hours for prep and cooking and you’ll be happy with the moist and delicately flavored bird.  Though Lucy doesn’t say to, I recommend using the lemon-infused onions and garlic cloves as a garnish for the chicken.

2 onions, sliced
20 cloves of garlic, unpeeled
one free-range chicken (about 4 lbs)
2 lemons cut in half, plus an additional 1/2 lemon
1 branch of fresh thyme
4 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons chopped, fresh flat-leaf parsley
S&P

  1. Place a rack in the middle of the oven and preheat to 300°F.
  2. Cover the bottom of a roasting pan with the onion slices and garlic cloves.
  3. Rinse the chicken under cold water inside and out. Drain and thoroughly pat dry with paper towels. Lightly season the cavity with salt and pepper. Stuff with thyme and four of the lemon halves. Place the chicken in the roasting pan, season with salt and pepper, and sprinkle with olive oil.
  4. Roast in the middle of the oven for 1 hour. After an hour, remove the chicken from the oven and increase the heat to 450°F. When this temperature is reached, return the chicken to the oven and roast until golden and crisp. [NOTE: This may take more than 30 minutes, depending on the size of your bird]. The chicken is cooked when a fork inserted into the thigh releases clear juices [or the internal temperature of the bird reaches 165°F.].
  5. Remove the chicken from the oven and let it rest for 10 minutes. Remove the lemon halves from the cavity.
  6. Slice up the chicken to serve. Squeeze the juice of the uncooked, remaining lemon over the chicken and sprinkle with chopped parsley.
  7. Transfer the onion, garlic, and liquid from the roasting pan to a sauté pan and bring to a boil. Add half a cup of water to the pan, mix well, and return to a boil. Strain and serve the liquid as a gravy with the chicken.

 

Posted on

The Meaning of Words

the meaning of words
Honored

“You know what I can’t stand?” a food writer recently said over dinner. “How many people feel the need to say they’re honored and humbled whenever they write about all the great things that happen to them.”

The table of creative types groaned and rolled their eyes in agreement.  I sat in stunned silence. What’s so wrong about the words honored and humbled?

Another friend added, “I understand if you’ve got lots of great things going on in your life. But don’t waste our time with honored and humbled when a simple thank you would suffice.” Conversation faded to the background. My mind spun. What about these two words could be so offensive?

The more I thought about it, I realized what my friends were really saying wasn’t that the words honored and humbled are bad. Not at all. What they were complaining about was how those words had become trite. But why had so many people (even people like me) used “honored and humbled” so much? Those questions got me thinking about what might really be going on.

What’s the big deal?

It seems that whenever the words honored and humbled appear online, they tend to be followed by a brief announcement of some personal success. If you’ve ever followed @humblebrag on Twitter, you’ll see my friends aren’t alone in noticing a trend in how people communicate good news online.  Some people honestly mean what they say, while others use words like honored, humbled to subjugate a self-congratulatory agenda. Unfortunately, for those who use this phrase often, the predictability of the combination of words has become so clichéd, honored and humbled hold no truth within them any more.

The struggle between balancing core values and a public persona has many of us bloggers scrambling for words that will protect our sense of identity. But the thing is, no matter how humble we may be, the instant transfer of important and mundane details of our daily lives to hundreds, thousands, or millions of followers on Twitter automatically qualifies us as social media show offs. No matter what words we use to try to ease our discomfort in our situation, the truth of the matter remains, our relationship with social media has many of us experiencing an identity crisis.

Continue reading “The Meaning of Words”