We're building something

I've had a lot of people asking about my next blog post which is flattering. I'm still trying to figure out why what I have to say is any more important than, well, anyone else. But thank you to those who read this blog. So here it goes...

We recently hired a new line cook at La Tavola. Two weeks ago today, I fired one of our long time cooks in the middle of service in what turned out to be one of the more challenging nights of my career. I really didn't want to do what I had to do and that was let someone go who had been in our kitchen for over three years but couldn't keep control of some personal issues that detrimentally affected his job performance. He was part of our "family" as I call it and it was a sad day for everyone to see him asked to leave our tight knit group. But, it's not like we can all stop and hug each other, is it? So, on to better things.

Fortunately, I haven't had to hire a new cook in over two years. This is unheard of in most restaurant circles and I'm lucky to have the solid crew that I do. They are fast, smart, understand our food inside and out and for the most part, are cross trained on every station. I spend a good part of my day instructing them, pushing them (sometimes too far) and working to make them better cooks, and hopefully, great chefs. So hiring a new person is a serious task that everyone is concerned about. Is he or she going to fit in? How long will they last? Will they help me if I get in the weeds? Do they work clean? I could see all these questions going through my cooks minds before I started interviewing people. I finally settled on a young cook named Edson. He came in and trailed with us for two nights, giving him an opportunity to see how we put food out of the tiny closet we call our kitchen and it gave us an opportunity to see how he would react to weekend business. Would he jump right in and help? Would he stand back and just observe? What would his facial expressions be like? Confident, cocky, perplexed, frightened? We all watch these things when we have a cook doing their working interview. I can ask people a multitude of questions from across a table, but until they get a knife in their hand or a hot pan in front of them, you really never know what they're going to be like in a kitchen. Edson, as it turns, out is a pretty good cook. He has a pleasant disposition, cracks jokes easily and when he smiles (which is often) his whole face displays his optimistic view of the world. He's been training with us about a week now and I'm contemplating letting him go on his own tonight as he's been improving every day. The staff likes him. He's humble, quiet when he cooks, attentive, listens, adjusts to criticism, helps other cooks when his station is slow and all of these things spell a good future for him at La Tavola. I'm hopeful he will be with us for a while.

I once worked for a chef who once told me that with the kitchen staff, he was "building something." I think I remember rolling me eyes a bit and chalking it up to some hippie sensibility. But now, I understand what he was talking about. The "something" is always evolving, moving, living and I'm looking forward to the challenge of the next chapter.

It's called Gratitude

Plating the boar

All systems go

Wild boar tenderloin, guanciale (smuggled back), porcini mushrooms,
Crispin apple puree, red wine reduction

Torta Stracciatella

Ricotta gnocchi with black truffles and chive flowers

Polenta with Montasio fonduta, poppy seeds, smoked ricotta, herb salad

I don't know if I would call the dinners we did this last week the pinnacle of my career, but they sure felt like it. We executed a menu for two nights based on my two week trip to Italy and the staff performed beautifully. I probably got twelve hours of sleep in the three days leading up to these dinners. Not only did we have almost every regular and key company employee attending one of the two nights, the hype surrounding the dinner and my trip made for some very high expectations and the stress that comes with them. I didn't want to let anybody down. I especially didn't want to let my kitchen staff down. They had seen me come back and make some tweaks and changes here and there, but this menu was my put-up-or-shut-up moment. I spent a good deal of time going over menu descriptions with the servers. I put together a kitchen plan on how everything was to be prepped, who would do what on each course and how everything would be executed. My sous chef, Brent Banda, and saucier Andrea Price worked hard and mostly blind for three days, relying only on my instruction and the pictures on my Ipod of the dishes we would be preparing. I'm also fortunate enough to have a group of line cooks who have been with me a while. I can make one hand movement or facial expression and they can read what that means. They are rock stars and everyone from front to back stepped it up to make for a seamless two nights. I can't thank them enough for making me look so good. Thank you to all of you for trusting me, following me, listening to me and believing in what we do. We are the family that sweats together night in and night out and for these two nights, we got to show a small slice of Atlanta what we can do. Cheers.

The Road Ahead or Good Bye Pappardelle

At some point in every chef's career, there comes a time when you release yourself from past mentors, ingrained recipes, concrete experiences and begin cooking "your" food. I'm not sure if it comes at a certain age and the exact timing of this experience is tricky. And I'm sure it doesn't happen to everyone because not everyone can release them with ease and comfort. My first six months at La Tavola, I kept having the feeling that my teacher and previous mentor of five years, Lidia Bastianich, would walk through the front door, head straight to the kitchen, peer into a pot or pan and begin criticizing my cooking. It took me a while to convince myself that this would not happen and that I needed to relax and cook what I knew, honestly and from the heart...from me. I began to explore my own cooking at that point, trying out recipes, riffing off other chef's recipes and developing my own food. Another indirect mentor of mine has been Mario Batali. When I worked for Lidia, part of my training was going to New York to stage, or work for free at her flagship restaurant, Felidia, and Mario's intimidating restaurant Babbo. I had eaten at Babbo once before and the whole dining experience had opened my eyes to an Italian food I had never seen. Tradition was there on the plate of almost every dish, but you had to look for it, past the other ingredients, some of which I had never seen before in Italian cooking (smoked paprika?). I spent two days in the Babbo kitchen, a tiny shoebox of a place where any bystander, or observer like myself, had to shuffle and dance to not be in the way of the food runners and executive chef Andy Nusser (Andy has since moved on to other Mario endeavors). The kitchen staff was extremely welcoming, sneaking me a taste of a pasta here or a side dish there. I witnessed first hand the crazed cooking that takes place in a tiny kitchen with a packed restaurant and a "you've-got-to-be-kidding" sized menu. I came away from the experience with a new kind of Italian food to inform my cooking. When Lidia asked about my experience at Babbo, I mumbled something about her food being "juicier" (a word she loves) and not as "tight" as Mario's food. She huffed in agreement as if to say, "Good answer. You are now a confirmed apprentice of mine." I've followed Mario's food since my time at Babbo and for a long time held it in the highest regard. But then, a few years ago, I had a very lackluster meal there, where plates were left unfinished by myself and the friends I was dining with. Some of the food wasn't hot. Some of the food wasn't seasoned properly. I didn't get it. Andy had left the kitchen by that point and I chalked the bad meal up to his absence. It also made me realize that even a venerable kitchen like Babbo's can make mistakes. They were, in the end, mortal. And as I've developed menus at La Tavola and explored my own cooking, I've changed my perspective on past mentors like Lidia and Mario. I've found that I don't have to agree with everything I was taught by them.

I was reminded of these experiences this week as I wrote and developed La Tavola's new fall menu. Since before my time at LT, the pappardelle pasta has always been with our bolognese sauce. This is a Mario dish straight from the Babbo cookbook. You would never find pappardelle with bolognese sauce in Bologna (as Mario acknowledges before the recipe), it would be tagliatelle. And it finally hit me: Why aren't we cooking it like they do in Bologna and why is Mario's food on my menu...still? After consulting with the service staff, I'm not as afraid of the riot-in-the-street reaction I might get from our guests when we switch to tagliatelle because this immensely popular dish is not about the pasta for our diners, it's about the sauce. And on Tuesday, when we roll out the new menu, I will experience another feeling of release and another step in the development of my Italian food.

Abbondanza Menu

Between the Lines

Last Wednesday, we began Abbondanza, a special ten day menu highlighting the cuisine of central Italy, specifically Umbria and Tuscany. Getting these menus off the ground is a lot of work for our kitchen to say the least. Ten to twelve new menu items are built from the ground up, often instructing the kitchen staff how to cook them all for the first time and having them ready at 5 p.m. for the servers to taste and (hopefully) takes notes on. It's all very stressful for myself and our sous chef, Brent. So after getting all the food up for the servers to taste, getting through the menu descriptions that I had given them weeks before, making a few changes, tweaks here and there, I was more than happy to take a minute and sit down to reflect. After my moment of zen, I was approached by one of servers, Jeff. Jeff is a towering man who speaks softly and thoughtfully. His disposition is calm and his humor is dry. We all like Jeff. He said, "You know chef, when I read the menu descriptions you gave us, nothing seemed to pop off the page and at me and it all sounded kind of boring. But then when I tasted everything, it was fantastic." Uh, thanks...I think. I repeated this story to Stuart, our director of operations the next day, and he said, "Oh yeah, I've heard that before." Uh, ok...I guess there's a trend with my menu writing versus menu execution. I don't really think of it as a problem because the flavors and textures of the food and how they make people feel is what is most important to me. But as someone who is comfortable with writing and language, I'm a little concerned that my menu words don't "pop" on the page. So this got me thinking about menu writing and it's evolution, or rather de-evolution, since I became and executive chef and began writing menus. The current trend seems to be naked, listing only the ingredients, maybe a cooking technique to how the entree is prepared, leaving the diner to envision and often times guess at what might arrive in front of them. Take for instance some of these entree menu descriptions from Gramercy Tavern in New York:

Codfish

Marinated Squash and Zucchini Purée

Wild Striped Bass

Artichokes, Sungold Tomatoes and Swiss Chard

Halibut

Pole Beans, Wild Rice and American Caviar Sauce

Sea Bass

Spaghetti Squash, Walnuts and Sherry Sauce

Duck Breast

Green Beans, Duck Confit and Olives

Rack of Pork & Braised Belly

Heirloom Cauliflower and Kohlrabi

There is no mention of how the dishes are prepared or any herbs that might be used. Nothing. Is the halibut poached, grilled, roasted, braised, raw? As frustrating as this can seem to guests, I'm not against it and I'll tell you why. It forces us as chefs, managers, owners, to spend time with our staff and educate them. I often pass out recipes when I meet with our servers because I want them to understand food and why things work, why certain flavors "pop" and who knows, maybe they'll actually go home and cook something. The first time I heard about the importance of teaching the service staff was from Dave Pasternack, the animated chef/owner of Esca, also in New York. We were doing a dinner together and he said he spent a lot of time with the service staff and how much it contributed to the bottom line. I thought he was a little crazy at the time. As a younger chef, I only gave information to servers on a need-to-know basis and didn't want to spend any more time with them than I already did because I thought they were idiots. But now, I get what Dave was saying. It does contribute to the bottom line and the experience guests have in our restaurant. Now, I'm very proud when I hear a server waxing poetic about the texture of a bean and how it perfectly balances the crunchiness of grilled squid. So bear with us, dining public. Our menus will probably continue to just be a hint of what is about to arrive, but put the server to the test and let's see if we've all done our job.

Menu for Italy Dinner, November 3rd and 4th

We're doing a menu based on my trip the 3rd and 4th of November. The 3rd is already sold out but we still have plenty of room on the 4th. Please call La Tavola to make reservations, 404.873.5430

Passed Appetizers

Assorted Salumi

Assorted cheeses with marmalades and mostardi

Mixed Crostini

Crispy phyllo pastry filled with speck and zucchini

Antipasto

Polenta with Montasio cheese fonduta, smoked ricotta, poppy seeds and herb salad

Primo

Ricotta gnocchi with black truffles and chive flowers

Secondo

Wild boar tenderloin roasted with Umbrian guanciale and onions, sauteed porcini mushrooms, apple puree, red wine reduction

Dolce

Torta Stracciatella

Roman ricotta-almond cake with grated chocolate

$65 plus tax and gratuity

Wine recommendations will be available from the staff

Back to Life, Back to Reality

I've spent the last four days getting my sleep back on schedule and getting back into the routine at La Tavola. I've returned from Italy with a slightly new perspective on the kitchen and how we prepare food, how big the menu should be, etc. The pace of the kitchens in Italy is so very different than ours. American kitchens operate at a breakneck, athletic pace that will quickly swallow up the weak. Italian kitchens are not centered around this idea and are more geared toward spending more time on dishes, often having nothing prepped ahead of time, hence a more contemplative approach to restaurant cooking. What I found there were chefs cutting steaks to order on a band saw, nothing blanched off ahead of time and quickly sauteed to order. Nothing that resembles what I refer to as "wok cooking" at times where cooks are more concerned with flipping something in a pan than letting it sit on a flame and cook. So one of the big questions I face is how to bring this approach to the La Tavola kitchen, a tiny kitchen, without guests sitting there looking at their watches, getting aggravatingly hungry? How do I train our cooks to truly understand the ingredients they are cooking, tasting them and making decisions about how they react when cooked? Italians are surrounded by food in their culture since birth. They have an inherent ability to discern between good products and bad ones. They are what some people would consider "snobby" about food and wine and coffee. But I don't think of it as snobby, just a resistance to lowered expectations. I think this is definitely something we can learn from. So these are the challenges and questions I face as I return from my trip. Everyone has been asking me what I learned, but a lot of it is hard to put into words. But I hope they can taste it in our food.

On a lighter note, here are some excerpts from my notes and travels that didn't make it into the blog while I was in Italy:

"Alberto (sous chef at Vespasia) has on a shirt that says "Miracle Man" but I don't think his English is that good."

"I hope I just bought toothpaste and not denture adhesive."

Try getting a pre-paid cell phone up and working---in Italian. I spent two hours staring at the tiny instruction sheet.

(At the gas station) "Why are all of those old men in lawn chairs staring at me? Haven't they seen an American perplexed by their gas pumps before?"

"Why can't we do this? We should do this."

(In Norcia, Umbria) "Even my hand towels in my hotel smell like boar guanciale!"

"I woke up to the smell of burning wood." (Two days in a row)

(At a restaurant in Tuscany ) "What's up with all the cactuses? Cacti?"

It was a great trip. I saw a lot and learned a lot, traveling by myself. Like I said, hopefully you will be able to taste it in our food.