A spring scramble

As I’ve documented in previous columns, my wife and I have made a few attempts to eat at the Blue Door Pub in St. Paul, only to be thwarted by long lines. The pub opened touting its version of the Jucy (sp) Lucy, a Juicy Blucy (sp), a burger stuffed with blue cheese, and other pub-fare-with-a-twist. We finally got a seat at about 8:30 on a Wednesday, waiting 15 minutes for a small table.

Talking with the various restaurant owners featured in this month’s issue, there is a common theme—value. It’s not an unfamiliar term, one hopes a restaurateur strives for it under glowing economic skies. But it’s all the more critical now.

Alexander Roberts, chef and owner of Alma and Brasa Rotisserie, remarked to me that he didn’t believe all that many people are cooking at home significantly more often than before the recessional thumping last fall—they’re just trading down a price point or two. (At least those still employed.)

I tend to agree, which brings me back to a point I’ve argued before in this space: People, in these climes, are less inclined to take a chance with their dollars, and are less forgiving when an experience is sub-par.

So, the Blue Door Pub. The burger was good. Best ever? No, but a great twist on a Twin Cities tradition and a great value. We ordered some fun sides—beer battered green beans and Cajun-spiced tater tots—and I want to go back to try the pub sandwich (a fried egg wedged amongst BLT fixings and pepper-jack cheese), but I think the big draw—aside from the wallet-friendly menu—is the vibe and service.

The vibe: Good music (those familiar with Minnesota Public Radio’s 89.3 The Current, with the “everything” format will enjoy) with the Wild hockey game playing on the flatscreens stuck in the corners. The demographic filling the seats ran the gamut, young hipsters to those qualified for an AARP card.

The service: While we waited (standing room only) near the door, the bartender asked us and others waiting if we wanted drinks; every server that walked by said “Hello;” and, perhaps most importantly, continued to acknowledge us as we waited. Such a simple thing to smile, to ask if we’re doing all right, if we’d like to look at a menu in advance. Just a few seconds each time, hardly breaking stride from the customers at the tables. Once we sat at a table, our server was polite, friendly, and knowledgeable, giving a nice beer recommendation to my wife and I from unfamiliar selections.

The pub, overall, reminded me of Tracy’s Saloon in Minneapolis, a joint we hit on the occasional Wednesday to team with another couple for its Trivia Night. It’s just not that hard to provide good service, and it’s essential to survival as diners are much more critical to those who compete for their dollars.

A reunion of sorts

Last month chef Filippo Caffari left I Nonni, which caught many by surprise, considering he also designed the menu of the Marchionda family’s (which owns I Nonni and the attached Buon Giorno Italian market) new Bibo Restaurant & Wine Bar. The PiPress reported an amicable parting. Rumors have burbled otherwise, but in the end, who cares. It would be nice to know he’ll be back running a kitchen soon.

Until that day, however, there’ll be a chance to sample his meals at Il Vesco Vino in St. Paul. I wrote about that restaurant and its chef, Andrew Lilja, in the March issue of Foodservice News. Before opening Cue at the Guthrie as a sous chef under Lenny Russo, Lilja worked as a sous chef with Caffari at I Nonni. “We always got along great,” Lilja said to me recently. “This will be a lot of fun.”

The plan is a monthly five-course tasting menu exploring the regions of Italy, at Il Vesco Vino—a collaboration between Lilja and Caffari. All the details weren’t in at press time, but Lilja said the dinners would likely start this month. Further information will be released on the FSN blog.

A shout out to Lyon’s Pub

Recently, I received a call from Dan Salem, a regional VP-territorial sales for U.S. Foodservice. Anyone who’s met Dan (and there are many) knows he’s a guy who genuinely loves the industry. He relentlessly plugs everyone but himself. He doesn’t me call often, but when he does, I listen. He’s a man with his ear to the ground and whose memory infinitely sharper than mine.

“Lyon’s Pub in Minneapolis is celebrating 25 years,” he said. Twenty-five years, I repeated. Salem said the exact anniversary date, a Saturday in early April, was approaching.

I was a bit stunned, since this is a place I recalled visiting as a teenager with my father in the mid-1980s, then again, somewhat regularly, when I worked at the Twin Cities Reader in the mid-1990s. Good food, and a nice place to retreat from the skyway and street traffic and relax with a beer. Then I met pub owner Chris Rodgers about a decade after that life stage at one of the FSN Restaurant Business Conferences. There are restaurants that have been around longer, but I think what struck me dumb about Lyon’s Pub’s 25th anniversary notification is that I’ve been there in each of its three decades. Time flies, and that’s one big reason we inadvertently take things for granted.

A story didn’t work out for this issue, but one will be coming. Anyone else with tips on notable anniversaries, give me a call or an e-mail.

Common ground

Reading Jonathan Locke’s column (I am the editor, I have to read everything in this publication) I often notice his analysis of the restaurant kitchen and its hierarchies, politics, undocumented laws and relentless sarcasm resemble those of the newsroom, of which in a former life I was a part of at several papers.

And, our response to many stressful times, such shrinking ad revenue or the dawning of a universal electronic medium set to devour our tree-based existence, was, as Locke mentioned in his column, drinking.

But it was mostly constructive boozing, with much kibitzing about the state of the industry and, specifically, our place of employ. Part of me misses the dynamism of the newsrooms, a collection of differing (and occasionally combustible) personalities and political viewpoints stuffed together in a small space to construct a product to be consumed by an audience. And, at its best, that product could be a transformative experience to the consumer.

Sound familiar? Kitchens do that, too.

Locke suggests that restaurant owners listen to their kitchen staff for a different viewpoint on the business. They might see and hear things differently. Dave Glodowski, a co-owner of 18 Hardee’s restaurants remarks in this issue that he listens to his GMs in the field, because they have the grasp of the community. It’s logical, and advice worth remembering. Sometimes a companies—no matter the size—forget to listen to advice from under their roof.

Of my former places of employ, they became part of a larger organization, and communication evaporated, good people left. Three of four are no longer in print. Would listening to a gang of lunatics have helped? Who knows. But it couldn’t have hurt.