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Eating Experiences

Happy Thanksgiving from Chef Mateo

As one of my most anticipated feast days next to my birthday and New Year’s, I can’t wait to start preparing Haitian turkey , mushroom rice, stuffed mirliton, macaroni au gratin, and all the trimmings. This holiday is about giving and sharing. I have been frequenting the Shake Shack on the UPW as of late, and I ordered tw shack burgers.

As I was enjoying the first one, I looked out the window and saw an elderly person going through the trash. I took the second burger, put it in a to-go bag, and handed it to him. I said, “Eat it while it’s hot.” He looked up at me, quite surprised, said thanks and went for it. I don’t feel as if this was some grand gesture. It was just a simple human thing to do at the time. It made me think about volunteering for the holidays.

So aside from enjoying cooking, spending time with family and friends, and giving thanks for all that we have, stop and think about doing one small gesture for your fellow man. Every action counts, no matter how small.

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Eating The Chef

Shochu & Ramen on a November Day

The cold weather has me ramen and shochu (barley sweet potato or rice distillation – vodka-like) hunting, and the East Village is a breeding ground for this type of experience. I met my friends Larry and Steve over at Uminoie on third street, and was pleasantly taken care of. They offered flights, and even sold my favorite brand, Tori Kai. I usually add ume (plum) to my drink which intensifies as you reach the bottom. Lemon will also soften the sting out of some of the more austere styles available. I didn’t get to sample much food, but the kitchen smelled great.

Earlier in the day I hit a new ramen shop on 14th street and first avenue called Kambi. The place was neatly designed and the price was right, but some richness was lacking in the pork bone broth, although all the elements of the soup came together nicely. The gyoza was not pan fried correctly and overall I give the experience a six out of ten. With so much competition for ramen in the East Village (Momofuku, Setagaya, Ippudo, Rai Rai Ken, Men Kui Tei, etc.), they are going to have to step up their game.

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Experiences

Pata Negra Saga 7

FALL 2008

The arrival of Fall brought about two things: my type of weather and my clients. People just drink more wine when it gets nippy out there. And despite the tumbling economy, people always need a drink either to wallow in losses or celebrate some event.

I have finally instituted a staff, one who I trust, who for the most part have worked for me and know my style. This is a difficult transition for me, as I like to be at Pata Negra all of the time controling every interaction. But I too was feeling a burnout pressure. My health was suffering ( I had some mysterious back pain for two months straight), my love life was non-existent ( what normal working female has my crazy schedule), and I stopped having fun (I was losing patience with certain customers even by my demanding server client relation standards). Besides, I have miles to go before I sleep, and my other projects are idling.

Still working hard on the menu, I really bent over backwards and have included one item, gambas al ajillo, or shrimp with garlic. I resisted this all this time, but who would have known that a little shrimp, garlic and olive oil would make people so happy. I sold eighteen orders last Friday night. For dessert I’m melting dark chocolate on toast points sprinkled with olive oil and sea salt. When one patron orders, others follow, and the room smells like in the inside of Jacque Torres’ closet. I have come across some of the best Jamon Iberico since I’ve opened, and have been pushing the luxurious, buttery ham on all my customers with $24. to spend. The padron peppers, one of my best sellers, have come into short supply, mainly because Jose Andres orders over 200 lbs. per week for Jaleo in D.C. What a hog! Let the little guy have some too. I have been replacing them with Japanese shishito peppers which are just as delish. Tortilla may be next. We’ll see.

As for Ostia, the band idea really caught on, and we have been interspersing Falamenco night on Sundays as well. My manager Gabriel has hired a new staff who seem to be working well together, and he seems content until the New Year. With no need to panic on that front, I will be changing the menu shortly. Look for caldo gallego, meatballs, cannelloni, and other heart warming dishes soon. Enjoy the last day of the outdoor seating, especially for the upcoming Halloween bash in the West Village.

Recently, I participated in a reading of a script for my first director from college, Davaid Willinger. I forgot just how much fun I had acting, and this brief reading really sparked my need to lighten my load. My new schedule is shaping up, and I still can be found at Pata Negra about 75% of the time. I’m back at the dojo (martial arts training), making the rounds (visiting friends and their babies), and back to work (writing).

October has been full of tastings, and there are some great Spanish wines to try at Pata Negra. Come on down for some great reservas from 2000 and 2001 as these vintages are really hitting their stride right now.

CHAPTER 7

Winter at Ostia was long and lean. Everyday was a nail-biter. My friends came in to support me quite often, booking parties and showing up often for moral support, and I was in the process of weeding out staff member who were not up to par. Lolo was on my back to make money, and there was a tremendous amount of pressure. Tasca, across the street seemed packed every night. I went for a drive-by. The wine list was not well chosen and overpriced. The food barely resembled Spanish cuisine. The waiters were dress like they worked at Lotus, and the crowd was UrbanDaddy driven. Alas, they had spent lots of money on advertising. At Ostia we threw a welcome to the community party for West Village regulars. I was confident that Tasca was a flash in the pants, and that we were trying to establish ourselves as a neighborhood place. Patience would prevail.

Sure enough, February picked up a bit, and we made it out of the snow by doubling January earnings. Another shake up in the kitchen, outstanding service by my waitstaff, and the old-fashioned one client at a time was slowly gaining ground. Then when March hit, so did the New York Times, a favorable review from Peter Meehan, and the flood gates opened. Not only were we busy, but every other periodical jumped on the bandwagon (Zagat, Time Out NY, New York Newsday etc.). Tasca was uncovered as a fraud, and we coasted into summer, continuing the same formula, good food, good service, and comfort. Tasca imploded, as the chef was accused of mismanagement of funds, and certain staff members of sexual harassment. They eventually closed making way for Sheridan Square, which as of this posting also has since closed.

I was happy with my performance and my staff, as Ostia was finally operating like a functional business. Time to take care of myself now. I pushed for more money, and Lolo was against it. He wanted to create a tip sharing scheme with the staff. He was overruled by my other partners. So Lolo decided he was going to drive me out. He gave me mundane administrative tasks (counting forks and spoons), and insisted on a computer (a $15,000. investment that would act as a spy for him). Half the time I established a policy in the workplace he would undermine it. I just ignored him. My vision of Ostia was coming to fruition, and he still wanted to hang garlic and put salt on the tables. I was losing respect for him and he knew it. Every time he would come in to the restaurant there would be tension and friction. I just wanted him to leave. I had no problem checking in with him every day and asking for advice on matters, but the two of us in one place just didn’t work.

In many of our heated conversations, we broke our respect and ultimately our trust. We separated a s partners, and I knew that in the background opening Pata Negra was still a great possibility. Only this time I would do it alone, with no partners. Lolo said, “ If you were smart, you would keep me as a partner to ensure your success.” I told him that even if I failed, it would be better to own my business, make my own decisions and fail, rather than be told what to do by him and succeed. “You will bleed out of your ass,” he admonished. “I got a big ass,” I retorted.

June came rushing in, and without outdoor seating (we had no licence yet) I was doing killer numbers. But Lolo wanted me out. He managed to get my partners to sign an agreement giving him managerial control, and I was left unprotected. He brought forth an impossible scheme. He proposed that the waiters’ salaries would be brought down to $25. a shift. If they made over $100. in tips the house would not have to pay them. Second, I would be receiving thirty percent of their tips to supplement my base pay of $400. Third I had to be responsible for many systems he would dictate to be implemented, all of which seemed draconian to me in effect.

So after closing on Sunday, we had our final meeting. I thanked him for all the stuff I learned and the opportunity. I went through a laundry list of all my accomplishments at Ostia, as well as a detailed list of thirty-five different press accolades, both in internet and print, topped off by NYT of course. I asked him to honor or original deal in severance, and he dance. He said he owed me nothing, and that the education he gave me was payment. I told him to be a man and tell the truth. After all, I had witnesses in the meeting when he agreed to those terms, ten percent of the business after six months. He told me I would never receive that money and that I could take him to court over his dead body. I couldn’t tell at that time, but I  got off cheap with this crook. I told him that he would lose both businesses before long. He said, “Is that a threat?” I replied, “No, just the facts.” He replied, “I sleep well at night.” I believe he does, as those without conscience sleep like babies.

I informed my partners the next morning, and focused my energy on 345 East 12th Street, the future sight of Pata Negra. I lost a friend, my baby (OSTIA), gained invaluable experience, and was left flat broke, but somehow felt a calmness over me that everything was gonna be alright.

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Experiences The Chef

Pata Negra Saga 6

Pata Negra Saga Chapter 6

The arrival of August brought about an unseasonable amount of fair weather with low humidity, making way for a more lucrative month than I had anticipated. I planned for a week off at the beach, doing nothing of course, but all was contingent on making the numbers in three weeks instead of the full four.

At Ostia, I had other pressures. My manager Gabriel has been doing an excellent job across the way, maintaining the flame that I lit at my first restaurant venture in the West Village. But a crazy summer of bartending and managing brought about a natural response – burn out. He announced his resignation, and I can’t say I didn’t see it coming. Who would I hire next? When would I train that person? Is anyone with a pulse available who’s crazy enough to take that position?

Yes, people work in the biz for money, but unless you’re into long hours, no life, crazy bosses, and the endearing public, you should probably send your resume to Citicorp instead. My new business still needs me and I can’t just go over to Ostia to straighten things out. Unless I hire a manager for Pata Negra…

I asked around, and had one person in mind. She was highly qualified and told me she was looking for something cozy having worked at Gotham Grill, but I couldn’t get the timing right and figured I couldn’t offer a competitive enough salary commensurate with her talent (I hear she’s at Gramercy Tavern now and wish her the best).

On top of that there were staff issues, as two of my best left of personal differences. Boy the crew was turning skeleton in a heartbeat. True to his word, Gabriel said he would stay as long as it takes to get the place in top speed before he ultimately leaves, and I just gotta sit back and have faith.

To his credit, he has installed salsa night on Sunday evenings, and the turnout and band was fantastic. Drop in if you like live music.

I did indeed close for ten days and spent some QT at Long Beach, just eating lobsters and scallops and playing poker and doing nothing just the way I like to.

I’ve got some plans for the fall menu, but will unveil that in October.

CHAPTER 6

I had barely taken the fresh Cuban cigar out of mouth, before January’s cold, brutal weather hit us. Business was very slow. Then across the street another tapas bar opened with a modern sleek Gaudi type of look called Tasca. They had ammunition and a press junket. I had word of mouth and friends. They had urbandaddy.com. I had a makeshift staff and chef I had to let go in the kitchen. They had an army of dainty servers in sleek black attire with a basement big enough for ten kitchens. I had Lolo squeezing another fridge upstairs because we have no basement.

One night the chef comes over for a drive-by, orders everything on the menu and pretends to chat me up. I smelled it a mile away. He was gregarious, pompous, and arrogant. He gave me underhanded compliments and bragged about how busy Tasca was night in and night out. Some nights I would step out of Ostia to look across the street and they would indeed be filled, people spilling onto of the streets.

It was a daily struggle. We looked for another chef and endured the snow. I tried to hire staff interested in enduring the tough start, but I lost many. Lolo became nervous and more demanding. I wasn’t even earning a salary, despite the 100 plus hours. And while Diego suggested Lolo take up knitting, Lolo fired Diego, a signal of the beginning of the end. We had no exec chef, no chef, and Lolo in the kitchen undoing everything Diego accomplished.

Then Lolo pressured me into withdrawing my partnership with a very smart play. Sensing defeat and a restaurant on the ropes, he told me he was withdrawing and that I had to buy out his shares. I told him that I couldn’t financially afford to do so, and he said them I had to give up control. I didn’t know what to do, and I knew that I didn’t want to leave the baby I had just created. I believed it was going to work. But I had no choice.

I asked for my investment money back, a salary to work and ten percent of the business after six months time. My partners Farias and Patricia mediated the meeting and agreed. They paid me a lump sum for work that had been done. I was given a $400. per week salary plus ten percent of the tips as a maitre d’hotel (my wine service to the tables and overall good cheer basically). Lolo said I had to prove myself to be paid more money. I also had to take care of all the p.r. and ordering of booze, wine, and food, as well as coordinate with the kitchen chefs and staff, as well as be on the floor for all service. When business got better, I would be compensated more. I knew that things would work, and that I would need three months to do it, despite Tasca.

I figured that Lolo would not be around enough to matter, and that I would still be running the show. For the most part that was true. He would breeze in unannounced, ordering me around, and I would yes him to death, wait until he left, and do exactly what I wanted. Lolo installed a couple of spies, but it was so obvious, I didn’t worry. I hired my own staff. Lolo poached two cooks from Degustacion. I understand that the owner, Jack Lamb, caught Lolo in his restaurant one time too many and confronted him about it. Jack called him a thief and threw him out and Lolo denied it all. Meanwhile, those cooks of Jack’s are pretty darn good.

In January we had to cough up the rent as we did not break even, and I was hell bent on making sure we could survive February without having to cough up another cent. They say that a restaurant doesn’t break even for six months to two years. I wasn’t gonna wait that long. I was determined to make Ostia work, and prove to Lolo that I could run a successful restaurant in the West Village just like Sinatra sang, “I did it my way.”

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Experiences The Chef

Pata Negra Saga Chapter 5

PATA NEGRA SAGA CHAPTER 5

A funny thing happened during May and June. Spring got skipped and summer arrived fast, way too fast. Where was the transition between spring and summer? It seemed like lots of rain outs and unseasonably warm and humid weather. The same customers who were looking for solace in my cozy living room during the winter were now looking for the direct opposite – the great outdoors of New York’s sidewalk cafes, albeit filled with schmutz and noise pollution. Ostia, over in the west village, sports 24 outdoor seats. Packed. Tree, just one block east from me, has an entire backyard. Packed. Everyone is looking for some outdoor space to sit, drink and relax under a cool breeze.

Just down the street from me, Resto Leon opened its many windowed doors and looks very inviting. Not to mention they make mojitos and martinis too. Tough competition. Very inviting. Perhaps I would knock out my window too? Too time-consuming and costly. To top it all off, Terroir, the wine bar attached to Hearth one block east, earned a premier write up in the Times. A bit puzzling (they’re a wine bar not a restaurant) I’m sure you’ll agree, but it happened. They received one star from Mr. Bruni, responsible for the premier restaurant review column in the country. Terroir is home to a top notch chef and a sommelier, and that my friends is news.

Meanwhile, I worked, trying to build my business one client at a time. Some days I was very encouraged, and others not so much. With so many choices around, the warm weather, etc. Pata Negra slowed way down, almost to a halt. Then supply problems hit me. There was a trucker’s strike in Spain delaying the delivery of hams and other Spanish goods. Supply outlasted demand as there were no shoulder cuts of Pata Negra available left on the east coast. I scrambled to get one leg out of California, and that was just lucky. No importers had any ham left, and on top of it all a strike! My last shipment from Spain (about 4 kg) was confiscated by customs. Somewhere someone with a bad uniform is having a $350. ham sandwich. Somehow a ham that has been enjoyed for a thousand years is dangerous to American palate and sensibility. Historically the irony is just too much. What exactly is sprayed on our produce? How are our cows and pigs raised and slaughtered? These pigs roam the forest, eat acorns and that’s it. Nothing could be better for save for spring water.

With a shortage in Pata Negra, I had to shake up the menu. What started the change was a charity event I participated in for City Harvest where I had to provide one dish for 400 guests. The obvious choice was to do something with ham, but Bodegas Fermin was also invited and brought their own. So I switched to bacalao, salt cod. Not just any salt cod. The best from Cantabria, harvested by Giraldo. The stuff can be eaten raw. So a little olive oil, lemon juice, guindilla peppers – voila – cod sashimi. Aided by Chef Diego Gonzalez, we went through several pounds of cod. Judging from the line and number of seconds, it was a hit. The event was fun and I was glad to help a charity in some way.

And so the menu expansion continues. First cod, then spicy padron peppers from La Tienda in Virginia, chorizo with alubia beans, empanadas and cocas (flat bread) pizza of the day, and a salad (ok I scratched the salad – it is a ham and cheese bar after all). Gotta stay true to my own self. The tapas portion really started to shape up. Maybe shrimp and tortilla soon. But now it is July and dead summer, as everyone has hit the beach or the comfort of their AC. That’s precisely where I would be, if only I could.

The pizza guy next door to me takes the month of August off completely. My buddies over at Mac-n-cheese are heading to India soon as well. Has the block just given up?

There are still parties to be had, birthdays to celebrate, graduations, going away parties, etc. Actually I’ll probably close for the last week of August too. A little beach time is in order. In mid-August the arrival of the butt cut of pata negra is due and I will be promoting special parties to coronate the precious legs. In the meanwhile, come on down to check out the new menu, many white wines, the best sangria, and keep me from getting high on my own supply.

Chapter 5

In retrospect, it all happened as quickly as our transition from spring to summer. A little over two weeks to open a restaurant didn’t seem doable, but I really wanted to try. In my mind the most important thing was the food and wine followed by the staffing. The décor was just a nuisance I would deal with during spare time.

We hired Diego Gonzalez of Zipi Zape and Allioli in Brooklyn to consult on the menu and train the staff. Diego is an affable Galician, passionate about cooking who once earned a “27” from Zagat Survey for his work at the now defunct Alioli. I put an ad out for all staff immediately receiving a poor crop for the kitchen. One dishwasher quit the same morning. Another locked himself upstairs and fell asleep. I had to break the door down and almost called an ambulance. I fired him and he returned with two thugs demanding his pay. I kindly explained to them that I was willing to beat all their brains out for free if they didn’t leave at once. Staff just wouldn’t last. I hired three bartenders, two guys and a girl. The first chef we procured was a nice guy, but couldn’t hack it. Every dish was missing some key ingredient and we had to keep reminding him that clams and beans needs the clam part too. One week into training I was told by Lolo we had to let him go. That was the first time I ever had to fire somebody. Not a cool job. But something I guess owners are confronted with a lot.

I hired Sylvia, a designer friend of Lolo’s, to do the décor and employed my friend Lisa for all the artwork, logo, menus, etc. My to do lists had to do lists, as each business day meant one less thing I could get on time, as Christmas was approaching. I spent countless hours on the Bowery selecting glassware, silverware, plates, etc. I haggled prices, made deals, and tried to bargain my way for everything. I ordered pressed tin from Canada, a 22 ft. banquet couch and new refrigerators.

Meanwhile the pressure was building. Open. Open. Diego and Lolo were at one another’s throats. Diego wanted control of the kitchen, and Lolo wanted to add his two cents. The fights were classic. “You make for me one croquette and I will know what kind of a chef you are,” Diego aimed at Lolo. “You can’t even work for McDonald’s,” Diego fired. “You think you are Alain Ducasse,” Lolo would answer back. I had to separate them physically as they thrashed about in the storeroom. We had no completed menu and I had a staff to train.

Meanwhile there were other signs of trouble. Lolo was on top of me 24 hours a day, telling me that this was the restaurant business. I was buzzed. But I also realized that thing could be accomplished more efficiently with smarts and a plan. All I need was some experience to see where the short-cuts could be taken. Lolo wanted an old school menu and décor. I wanted to modernize. I wanted a cocktail menu. He wanted salt and pepper on the table. I thought our food was seasoned perfectly and was unnecessary. The wall. The long wall opposite the bar was cause for great debate. It was designed to be tin almost to the ceiling, with room for a shelf and then paint. But on the day of application (Christmas day) I went all the way up with it. The next day he was pissed. He felt insulted. He thought I disobeyed him on purpose. I was very confused. He disagreed about every decision I made. I had no choice,. There were hundreds of decisions to make on the spot and I had no time for consultation. I had a clear vision of a sleek new Spanish restaurant with style and flair and he wanted an updated version of La Nacional. Then I figured it out. He was upset that I was getting the job done without his help and that I took Diego’s side of the argument.

Diego and I spent countless hours bonding over food and cooking and life during this process. I was the buffer between the two and I Diego and I just clicked, spending hours over a bottle of wine discussing the menu, technique and our dreams and passions. Lolo was jealous and hurt. But the show must go on.

I had my friends come in to taste the food and give critiques. I ordered all the wine and liquor. I trained the staff. I painted, I fixed, I lost any semblance of a holiday. I worked thru New Year’s Eve and Christmas day up until 10 pm. The kitchen was a mess but somehow we got it to work, mostly from my collaboration with Diego and keeping Lolo at bay with other busy work.

We opened the day before New Year’s to family and friends and prepared for a New Year’s Eve party when for one evening I felt on top of the world, having accomplished that which I thought was not doable, enjoying the moment with a cigar and champagne, ringing in the New Year 2007 with wide-eyed hope and visions of success and achievement.