the soul of a restaurant...a cautionary tale

I spend far too much time watching Food Network. I can't help it. If there's one thing you could accuse me of it's being waaaay too into food. Mostly, I'm a food experience junkie. I have become a student in what makes the enjoyment of food...well...enjoyable, and it's a job I take quite seriously.

For me, this all started in the mid-90's with the maven that is Martha Stewart becoming more mainstream. I poured over her original Hors d' Oeuvres cookbook imagining the first "big" party I would soon throw. And in the intervening years, I've continued my study of cooking, plating & presentation, serving pieces, thematic events, and generally bringing a heightened level of attention to the finer details of food experience. In the end, these details shouldn't stand out but instead become a backdrop to wonderful food, interesting conversation and the feeling of contentment that a well-enjoyed meal brings.

My travels to Europe have been more about sitting in restaurants than visiting museums. I was fascinated to see how people dined there - the type of glass used, the way the menu was organized, how the service was conducted, the length of time people lingered at the table. It was a very different world than ours and I must say it changed the way I enjoy restaurants. I became more intrigued by the process (the process of enjoyment, I guess) than the destination (a satiated tummy). I started warning servers when we sat down, "We're going to be one of those long, lingering tables" and started not ordering my entree until appetizers, wine and salad were handled. I wanted a slower service and the connection with my dining companions, the server or sommelier, and the restaurant. If the restaurant and I connected, I'd be a fast friend returning time and again. Something all business owners strive for - because it's almost always cheaper to keep a customer than get a new one.

After I started seeing more and more of a little Canadian show called "Restaurant Makeover" on the Food Network, I started paying attention to what the chefs and interior/restaurant designers were dealing with. Sure, they picked at the menu, the ingredients, the lighting, the tables & chairs, the chefs. But they also railed on about quality ingredients and the chefs' capital-P passion for the food. So much of this was couched in or formed around the one element that tends to go missing in restaurants: soul.

Cooking and feeding people - according to those who love to do it - is about love. Putting your own personality, love, and attention to detail into an expression of your appreciation of those that you're feeding may indeed be the highest form of compliment. When you decide to package that love and open up a restaurant, I think, restaurateurs may neglect the point. Yes, you have to pay strict attention to critical elements such as food costs and labor issues, and fine tune atmospheric elements such as wine glasses and the comfort of the bathrooms, but if you lose sight of your goal of sharing your love of this food with your customers it's easy to mislay the soul of your business.

I recently had a terrible dining experience at a restaurant on the lovely Grand Ave in St. Paul. They have been known for their southern-style cuisine and I remember several great meals there. And I love spending local! This is a restaurant that's held on through the years, has recently freshened up its interior and beautiful new patio, but managed to deliver a mediocre - at the very best - brunch. I was just sad through the whole thing. First, I generally hate buffets because they're difficult to execute in a way that lets the food shine. Second, they didn't give you the option of ordering off the menu in addition to the buffet so our hands quickly became tied. Third, the quality of the food and the ingredients was lackluster. Scrambled eggs looked like Styrofoam and the roast that was sliced for us was like leather - overcooked, overworked and sitting for far too long. Fourth, I sort of wasn't getting the interior design. It just felt weird in there. Many elements were beautiful and well done but many were disconnected. As a southern-style restaurant, they had many directions they could go - Floridian, Creole, Tara, New Orleans, French, etc - and seemed to take a page from each one. And what of the large screen TVs and the toy train circling above the bar? Nothing shone through. But worst of all, for me, was the fact that they had many great opportunities to let the food stand above all the riff raff, and they missed the mark wildly.

(Ok, I don't know why I'm being so secretive about the restaurant name. If you are from the Twin Cities, you probably know the place by now. I don't want to offend anyone but at the same time, as a customer and food lover, I WANT THEM TO FIX THIS PLACE SO I CAN ENJOY IT AGAIN! So fine, it's Dixie's. Sorry.)

Previously, their food generally was quite good and they were known for some specialities - pulled pork, BBQ ribs, fried okra, their signature beef jerky, gorgeous biscuits, etc. But was ANY of this on the buffet? No. And I get it, it's brunch. But do you have to give up your identity to deliver it? The jambalaya had no seasoning and no kick. The red beans and rice were underwhelming, and I love me some red beans and rice! What do unaccented scrambled eggs, greasy bacon, chunks of pineapple, A CHOCOLATE FOUNTAIN for god's sake, and chocolate pudding have to do with Southern cuisine?! It was all too much. Yes, there was a lot of food but I could have been at Old Country Buffet for all I could tell. The bottomless mimosas were the only thing that kept us from feeling completely ripped off from the $19.95 per head that we paid. So we had 3 apiece. And started plotting.

Do I have some ideas for this place? Oh yes I do. I watch too much Food TV and believe I can spit harebrained ideas faster than the next person; I'm shameless that way. At my re-imagined Southern-style restaurant on Grand Avenue I'd be asking the proprietors to pick: is this a family restaurant for everyone, a special cuisine destination stop, a local bar that happens to sell food, what? I'd be wondering: is this Southern food with a Creole influence? (Because I think it should be...unique, loaded with food opportunities, thematic style options, etc) I'd be thinking: how will we get the word out? What will people say about us? What do we want them to say and are we managing that goal into everything we do?

Because I would want to rave about the perfectly seasoned jambalaya with delicate fresh shrimp. I would want to point out that they gave a little riff on the mimosa by adding some unique twist (a hurricane mimosa, perhaps?!). I would want a signature omelet menu instead of a list of basic ingredients I can get across the street at the Embassy Suite's free breakfast. I would like to see brisket and roasted chickens on the carving station, pulled pork and buns in the chafers. I would like to try the Key Lime Pie instead of it running out at 1pm. How about biscuits and gravy? A gumbo? Something that makes me feel the restaurant, experience what it's offering me. See into its soul.

And then work the execution. I understand the benefits of buffet brunches. But pick your shots. Have the right dishes on the buffet, don't fill the chafers full and let them sit too long. Make a few more "to order" dishes in the kitchen. Turn your carving guy into a carver and waffle maker, and don't serve those toppings looking like an afterthought. Use the best ingredients you can manage and charge accordingly. I'd gladly pay $25.95 or so for a really outstanding brunch. If I want cheap buffet food, I have lots of options. If you can't do buffet well, skip it. Do a beautiful, but more limited, brunch menu so I can order what I want. But be who you are and don't apologize for it.

Define your brand. Identify your message. Describe your soul. And then let the people eat.