“Without great solitude, no serious work is possible.” Pablo
Picasso
Mornings
are magical in an empty restaurant dining room. There is a different energy in
a restaurant in the early morning. Everything is quiet and still. It’s a stark
contrast from the hectic hustle of the pre-shift scramble and the frenzied
activity of lunch and dinner service.
I like to
walk around in my restaurants in the early morning when no one is there. It’s
something that I’ve always done. At 5:30 a.m. or 6:00 a.m. the place is quiet
and still. There may be one or two people getting their day started back in the
kitchen, but I prefer to walk around in the dining rooms at that time of day.
I make
mental to-do lists of things that I see that need to be taken care of.
Sometimes I’m trying to stay out of the way of members of the cleaning crew,
but most mornings it’s me and the stillness of the dining room. It’s a rare moment of solitude.
The
restaurant business turned me into a morning person. Over 30 years ago, I could
sleep late into the morning. Back then, when I opened my first restaurant, and
had to start showing up early to open the doors and cook, my lifestyle changed.
Now I can’t imagine not being a morning person.
Early mornings
are the only time of my day that I feel are 100% mine. No one is calling on the
phone, emails aren’t filling in the inbox by the minute, and no one is asking me
to make a business decision. It’s just me, the tables and chairs, my own
business decisions, and the stillness of the dining room.
I do my
best thinking in the morning. I also write in the mornings. That’s when my
brain is fresh and uncluttered and I’m not too far from that misty awakening
stage where I’m caught midway between dreams and total consciousness. Of the 17
restaurant concepts I have developed and opened over the past three decades,
most of them were conceived before 8:00 a.m.
There is
something about an empty dining room in the early morning that offers promise in
the coming day, and it’s the anticipation of future business that gives me
hope. An empty dining room after a shift in the evening has an entirely
different feel. The late-night emptiness is prostrate and fatigued. The day is
over. The business is closed. It’s done.
Mornings
are more positive. Everyone is there to get the business open. At night it’s
all about the closing. Opening is more positive than closing, unless you’re the
team member who has worked a long shift and are tired. Then closing means the
work day is done and it’s time to head home.
Back in
the early 1990s I was walking through the French Quarter with my wife and
passed a restaurant with a single waiter sitting at a table in an empty dining room
at 8:00 p.m. It was such a desolate scene. It was disturbing and, at the same
time, sobering. It made me grateful for the business we had at the time. In my
mind’s eye, I can still see that waiter sitting at that table hoping someone
would walk in. Restaurants need people.
Restaurants
are really all about people. Whether it’s the people who work there or the
people that dine there. Early in my restaurant career I learned how valuable
people are to a business. We were the young, up-and-coming thing, and I had
received a lot of early positive press that went to my head. I don’t remember
exactly, but I am sure I went to bed every night patting myself on the back for
all of the great accomplishments and recognition the restaurant and I were receiving.
Then one
morning a freak thing happened. This was back in the days I was pulling 90-hour
weeks in the kitchen. I was opening up and getting ready to oversee the prep
work that needed to be done to handle the lunch service and I got a call from a
prep cook who wasn’t going to be able to make it in that morning. A few minutes
later a line cook called with a death in the family. Then the dishwasher called
with car trouble. Before the hour was out another line cook called and wasn’t
going to be able to come in. It was in that moment that it hit me like a direct
shot to the head— you idiot, it’s not you, you don’t do this alone. No matter
what the television news features, and newspaper articles say, it’s the entire
team.
I had been
taking the credit for everything the restaurant was accomplishing, when, in
reality, I was a very small component in our success. I am even a smaller piece
of the puzzle these days. I am in an office in a different location while 300
men and women are doing the daily work that is involved in opening, operating,
and closing down a restaurant every day.
It’s not a
one-man show. It never has been, and it never will be. I always try to give
credit where credit is due, and 95% of the credit lies with the team, not the
owner.
Maybe that’s
why I like the stillness of an early morning restaurant dining room. It reminds
me of that morning when I learned a valuable— yet sobering— lesson.
Onward.
Dr. Pepper Glazed Ham
24 oz. Dr. Pepper
2 Tbl Mayhaw Jelly (or Muscadine Jelly)
2 Bay leaves
2 Tbl Pickapeppa Sauce
1 tsp garlic, minced
2 Tbl shallot, minced
5 whole cloves
1 cinnamon stick
1 Tbl fresh orange zest
1/4 cup orange juice, freshly squeezed
2 tsp lemon zest
2 tsp lime zest
1 cured smoked ham, 10-12 lbs.
1 tsp dry mustard
1 cup light brown sugar
Prepare grill for low heat cooking and soak 4 cups of wood
chips.
Combine all ingredients for the glaze in a small saucepot.
Place over medium heat and simmer 30 minutes. Strain the
liquid and discard the solids. Return the mixture to the stove and reduce to
3/4 cup liquid.
Place the ham on a v-shaped baking rack in a disposable
roasting pan. Using a paring knife, cut shallow slits in a criss-cross pattern on
the top of the ham. Spoon two tablespoons of the glaze over the top of the ham.
Combine the dry mustard and brown sugar, and press the
mixture over the entire surface of the ham. Pour one cup of water into the
bottom of the roasting pan.
Prepare the grill or smoker. Add wood chips to the charcoal
as needed. Cook over indirect medium heat to an internal temperature of 165
degrees. Spoon 1-2 tablespoons of the glaze over the ham every 15-20 minutes
until all of the glaze is gone. Cover as much of the surface of the ham as
possible.
Allow the ham to rest for 20-30 minutes before carving.
Yield:
10-14 servings
If you don’t have an aluminum disposable roasting pan, use a
roasting pan that has been completely lined with foil
4 comments:
Success with humility is always an admirable combination.
Thanks for sharing Kingfish. Mr. St. John is a good writer.
There's no quiet quite like that of an empty space usually busy. I've never had the experience of a restaurant, but have several other places. Airports are interesting, like Jackson when you come in on the last flight of the night. Churches are my personal favorite.
I enjoyed his columns when they were in the paper. Glad KF is apparently picking up the column. Guy is a talented writer. And if you ever get to hear him speak, he is hilarious.
What's a restaurant? Heard that term used a long time ago, but can't remember what it is. This mask I wear in my closet makes it hard to concentrate.
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