The big news today was City Hall's final approval on our plans. Now, our subcontractors can move forward with pulling the permits they need to get their respective jobs done.
[A special note to Karl, who I know now reads the blog: Thanks for holding my hand throughout the process. You made an overwhelming experience less so and brought us that much closer to opening the doors on time.]
Plans approved, it was time to get on the telephone and start scheduling the crews who've been waiting for approvals along with us. Is it wrong to wish that the only role I have to play some days is General Contractor? I feel good about the progress we've made, the pace we're moving at, and comfortable with what we have left to do with what remains of the timeline. So why, on days like today, does it seem like we're no further ahead than we were yesterday?
I think the answer lies in the demon that is multi-tasking. You'd think it wouldn't challenge me the way that it seems to be, right? Working the line in a commercial kitchen all you're doing is multi-tasking: one eye on the starters for the the tables that were sat ten minutes ago, the other on entrees for a party of eight, and the eye in the back of your head is staring down modifications to a dish to accommodate dietary restrictions and all the while you're tracking inventory so the servers can communicate there are only two catch-of-the-day specials left.
The difference is that the multi-tasking I do in the kitchen is single-minded: produce quality product to be delivered the customer in a timely fashion. In other words, the only hat I wear in there is my chef's toque.
Today, you could name almost any department that makes up the whole of a company and I was at its head.
Human Resources: scheduled a meeting to further explore employee group plan options (health); interviewed a candidate for dining room manager and reviewed additional resumes.
Accounting: invoice and receipt filing--they're coming in fast and furious now that work's being done.
Food & Beverage: scheduled a tasting with a chef candidate for early next week (two starters, one salad, one entree; two items must be off our menu, two from the candidate's personal repertoire).
Finance: delivered pertinent financials to Point-of-Service leasing company (believe it or not, purchasing a POS system, after installation and training, is the greatest single-item cost--more than the bar, nearly ten times the cost of the light fixtures).
Information Technology (IT): confirmed our business DSL installation.
Marketing/PR: the only hat I didn't wear today because it's snug on Maureen's head.
No wonder my head feels to explode. And no wonder that the very last thing I want to do when I walk through the door tonight is cook dinner. It's also the very last thing Maureen wants to do as she worked in Boston all day and beause she manages our personal budget I know takeout isn't an option.
Cooking at home amounts to my contribution to the household. Makes sense, no? Trouble is, the last few nights I've been lacking in motivation and desire. Not that that matters to her because trust me, I get the way longer end of the stick when it comes to the house and by no means do my equal share. She'd said though, that once I went back to work we'd split up the cooking a bit. I am just now figuring out that what she means by 'back to work' is earning an income again.
If that's not motivation for getting the doors open and taking downtown by storm, I don't know what is (kidding). Dinner? One of our reliable standbys--mexican pasta. Seared pork, cut into small strips, red and green bell peppers, diced tomatoes, black beans and sweet corn, which I realize isn't much of a recipe, but give a guy a break, okay?
Showing posts with label Recipes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Recipes. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Friday, January 19, 2007
Soup is Good Food
Maureen says:
While Tom's been focused on equipment and logistics (the demo started on Wednesday), I've been nursing a cold and directing what little energy I do have into two major projects at work. The lovely thing about having both a laptop and a wireless Internet connection at home is that one can, if so inclined, work from the comfort of a warm bed. I haven't as of yet, but I might: each time I think this cold has peaked, it worsens a bit. What started as a head cold has, this morning, moved into my chest.
Tom's feeling heaps better, though, and seems to have made it his mission to keep me in pots of soup. Earlier in the week it was a spicy Pho with chicken and ground pork, that, like most soups, was even better the second day. Last night, minutes after walking through the door, he started in on what he calls his Safety Soup. Safety Soup, so named in the early days of his career when du jour on the menu meant cooking a pot every two days, is easy to make, simple in essence and positively nourishing. If you do any cooking at all, you probably have your own version of Safety Soup. Tom's is tomato-based, contains the usual aromatics (carrots, celery, onion, etc.), chunks of chicken and tiny slabs of bacon (of course), seasoned with salt and pepper. If I asked him for the recipe, he'd say there was none and advise you to make it up as you go along which, for someone like me, is about as helpful an answer as 'cook it until it's done'.
All this is to say that I haven't visited the restaurant since Monday evening. I haven't seen the space emptied of table and chairs, haven't seen where the bar used to be (knocked down, gone, bye-bye), haven't seen the how the color we chose to paint the tin ceiling honors the decorative relief, haven't seen the primer on the walls, haven't seen anything that isn't an 'art shot' (further investigation led us to the conclusion that the blurry-photo issue lies with Tom's unsteady hand, not the camera).
But I have been moving along with writing content for the formal Web site, creative discussions with our Web designer, working with the agency on print production, talking with promotional item vendors about match boxes and coasters, and voicing pointed opinions on server/bartender uniforms, of which I have many.
Speaking of which, I'm of the pointed opinion that the folks at Tylen0l must have been under the influence of their own cold/flu products when they chose to coat their multi-symptom cold relief caplets in "cool burst". They're not chewables; you're supposed to swallow them. Perhaps this is targeted marketing for the segment of their customer base who takes caplets without water and complained about the subsequent medicine mouth. In which case, I'd like to suggest that the team responsible for package design put the phrase "cool burst" in significantly larger type as I purchased them quite by accident and was unpleasantly surprised by the taste of sickly-sweet mint (read: nauseated).
While Tom's been focused on equipment and logistics (the demo started on Wednesday), I've been nursing a cold and directing what little energy I do have into two major projects at work. The lovely thing about having both a laptop and a wireless Internet connection at home is that one can, if so inclined, work from the comfort of a warm bed. I haven't as of yet, but I might: each time I think this cold has peaked, it worsens a bit. What started as a head cold has, this morning, moved into my chest.
Tom's feeling heaps better, though, and seems to have made it his mission to keep me in pots of soup. Earlier in the week it was a spicy Pho with chicken and ground pork, that, like most soups, was even better the second day. Last night, minutes after walking through the door, he started in on what he calls his Safety Soup. Safety Soup, so named in the early days of his career when du jour on the menu meant cooking a pot every two days, is easy to make, simple in essence and positively nourishing. If you do any cooking at all, you probably have your own version of Safety Soup. Tom's is tomato-based, contains the usual aromatics (carrots, celery, onion, etc.), chunks of chicken and tiny slabs of bacon (of course), seasoned with salt and pepper. If I asked him for the recipe, he'd say there was none and advise you to make it up as you go along which, for someone like me, is about as helpful an answer as 'cook it until it's done'.
All this is to say that I haven't visited the restaurant since Monday evening. I haven't seen the space emptied of table and chairs, haven't seen where the bar used to be (knocked down, gone, bye-bye), haven't seen the how the color we chose to paint the tin ceiling honors the decorative relief, haven't seen the primer on the walls, haven't seen anything that isn't an 'art shot' (further investigation led us to the conclusion that the blurry-photo issue lies with Tom's unsteady hand, not the camera).
But I have been moving along with writing content for the formal Web site, creative discussions with our Web designer, working with the agency on print production, talking with promotional item vendors about match boxes and coasters, and voicing pointed opinions on server/bartender uniforms, of which I have many.
Speaking of which, I'm of the pointed opinion that the folks at Tylen0l must have been under the influence of their own cold/flu products when they chose to coat their multi-symptom cold relief caplets in "cool burst". They're not chewables; you're supposed to swallow them. Perhaps this is targeted marketing for the segment of their customer base who takes caplets without water and complained about the subsequent medicine mouth. In which case, I'd like to suggest that the team responsible for package design put the phrase "cool burst" in significantly larger type as I purchased them quite by accident and was unpleasantly surprised by the taste of sickly-sweet mint (read: nauseated).
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Holiday Anomaly and Eggnog
Tom says:
The holidays. The calls to deck the halls, make merriment or spend time with loved ones go unanswered. If you’re in hospitality, you work ‘em. You can sleep after New Year’s. That’s how it’s always been for me, so this particular holiday season was a special anomaly; it was our first back in New England and our first Christmas Day together (when we lived in California, Maureen flew back East to be with family). This holiday season will also be the last with an abundance of free time on my hands. That’s the intention anyway.
So what did we do with the time and energy? Maureen put me to work, of course. There was the Christmas Eve open house at her sister Elaine's to attend. Would I make tiramisu? How about the Pave Potatoes I’d made at Thanksgiving? There’s a good chance, actually, a better-than-good chance, that I’ll be in Z’s kitchen in more than an Executive Chef capacity. Meaning, at the start anyway, I may be doing the vast majority of the cooking. I’ve spent the last two years in general management roles so I’m eager to return to my roots.
So. Tiramisu. The key to a superior one is the quality of the ladyfingers. You need to have a ladyfinger that will retain its shape after soaking in espresso, otherwise the entire dish turns to mush. I've found that only imported lady fingers fit the bill and even then brands vary. We were fortunate to find the perfect ones right here in town at Angela’s Pasta and Cheese Shop. My recipe, however, is secret and so I won't be posting it on the blog; ditto the Pave Potatoes (it's going to be a side dish on Z's menu).
One recipe I will share is the eggnog I decided, last minute, to make for the open house. Maureen had never had it made from scratch and I, believe it or not, had tasted the store bought only once (once was enough to tell me not to sample it again).
Homemade eggnog was a holiday standby in my family and, on occasion, my mother might have let me sip from the “adult” version when my father wasn’t looking. I'll never tell for certain. The following makes a tremendous amount of 'nog --about two gallons--so adjust accordingly. Don't think for a second I'm going to tell you the nutritional values. Besides, once a year won't do you in.
The holidays. The calls to deck the halls, make merriment or spend time with loved ones go unanswered. If you’re in hospitality, you work ‘em. You can sleep after New Year’s. That’s how it’s always been for me, so this particular holiday season was a special anomaly; it was our first back in New England and our first Christmas Day together (when we lived in California, Maureen flew back East to be with family). This holiday season will also be the last with an abundance of free time on my hands. That’s the intention anyway.
So what did we do with the time and energy? Maureen put me to work, of course. There was the Christmas Eve open house at her sister Elaine's to attend. Would I make tiramisu? How about the Pave Potatoes I’d made at Thanksgiving? There’s a good chance, actually, a better-than-good chance, that I’ll be in Z’s kitchen in more than an Executive Chef capacity. Meaning, at the start anyway, I may be doing the vast majority of the cooking. I’ve spent the last two years in general management roles so I’m eager to return to my roots.
So. Tiramisu. The key to a superior one is the quality of the ladyfingers. You need to have a ladyfinger that will retain its shape after soaking in espresso, otherwise the entire dish turns to mush. I've found that only imported lady fingers fit the bill and even then brands vary. We were fortunate to find the perfect ones right here in town at Angela’s Pasta and Cheese Shop. My recipe, however, is secret and so I won't be posting it on the blog; ditto the Pave Potatoes (it's going to be a side dish on Z's menu).
One recipe I will share is the eggnog I decided, last minute, to make for the open house. Maureen had never had it made from scratch and I, believe it or not, had tasted the store bought only once (once was enough to tell me not to sample it again).
Homemade eggnog was a holiday standby in my family and, on occasion, my mother might have let me sip from the “adult” version when my father wasn’t looking. I'll never tell for certain. The following makes a tremendous amount of 'nog --about two gallons--so adjust accordingly. Don't think for a second I'm going to tell you the nutritional values. Besides, once a year won't do you in.
+++++
12 fresh, organic eggs, separated***
1 quart heavy cream
1 quart light cream or half-and-half
2 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1 tsp vanilla
¼ c. brandy (optional)
ground nutmeg to taste
Directions:
Using either a KitchenAid or hand mixer, combine all 12 egg yolks with 1 cup of the sugar. Beat well until mixture is pale yellow and ribbony. Transfer mixture to a larger mixing bowl and set aside.
Wash and dry your mixer bown, then add 2 cups of heavy cream, ½ cup of sugar and the vanilla. Whip until soft peaks form. If you're using brandy, now's when you drizzle it slowly in, while still beating. Wait until the soft peaks reform, then gently fold the cream into the egg yolk mixture you've set aside.
Wash and dry your mixer bowl (last time, I swear). Add the egg whites and mix on low until frothy. Increase mixing speed and gradually add remaining sugar. Once all of the sugar has been added, increase the speed to high and whip the whites until stiff peaks form, being careful not to over whip. Gently fold the egg whites into cream and egg yolk mixture. Stir in remaining cream and all of the light cream. Refrigerate until serving time but at least two hours.
Don't worry if immediately after you finish the eggnog looks too thick to drink. After a couple of hours it will begin to weep and separate, naturally thinning itself. If after a couple of hours it's still too thick for your taste, stir in more light cream or whole milk.
Serve in mugs with nutmeg sprinkled on top. You'll never drink store bought again. Promise.
***Lots of supermarkets now carry pasteurized egg whites and yolks. If available, these are the safest option. Simply follow the conversion guide printed on the carton. For my own recipe, I used fresh, organic eggs from a local, traceable source.
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