It happened a few months ago. Many of you have come in to visit, which has been a lot of fun. I always hoped our place would be the kind of place that our friends come to often and where we can have at least some interaction with folks in the middle of service. That seems to have happened. 

Here’s how the last few months have played out:

We had out big friends and family weekend, which was wonderful, involved a lot of toasts, a lot of bubbly, and a few rounds of applause. We cooked a tasting menu of the whole shebang, learned a few things along the way, and felt we were ready to open. We opened to the public and things were insane, we had a few staff issues and shake ups, (one of which made me discover my Black Skull Of Banishment’s true purpose. If you hear a shaker being violently shaken in the kitchen, with some guttural cursing underneath, then you know that I want someone gone!) I stopped eating entirely and lost at least 15 pounds in a couple of weeks. I slept at the restaurant once (only once!) And we started to feed people regularly. Tons of people came in from the neighborhood, we met a lot of people, and we got a few reviews. The moules poutine is clearly a hit.

One development that we did kind of see coming was that Monday became a day of binging. My cooks, Cam and I have started the hashtag #24hourweekend. Usually this involves two lunches followed by a big dinner. Since we work all the time, nobody has time to spend money except on Monday, so might as well get the big order of biscuits for the table, no?

Something I had missed in my time leading up to the opening, basically the 6 months of just working on the buildout of the restaurant, was the culture of the kitchen, which has been much rapsodized and deserves every glowing wistful cheffy praise given it. Simply put: nobody is funnier than kitchen people. Part of that, in my opinion, comes from the environment of the kitchen. People are talking and joking while they’re working, and the nature of the work means that someone might have to walk away in the middle of your story or joke. It’s not rude, and you know it, because shit needs to get done, and if I don’t walk away right now the artichokes will burn and that is not acceptable. Thus, after a while, cooks adopt a manner of speech similar to old sitcom writing. Every sentance needs to be funny every ten seconds or less, otherwise people will just walk away. We also listen to comedy albums on spotify in our kitchen, which ups our game a lot (a favorite is patton oswalt because he talks about food and he is loud, so we can hear the jokes over the hood. Also, Katt Williams, just substitute weed for food.)

And now the Farmer’s Markets are really coming into full swing, so my dour, root-heavy winter menu is giving way to ramps, asparagus, peas, and all the other harbingers of crispness. Things only get more exciting from here. I will definitely be writing more often as well, now that I have gotten things figured out to a point where I doubt I’ll have to sleep at the restaurant any time soon. So expect dispatches on greenmarket visits, the music we’re listening to in the kitchen, the books I’m reading and getting psyched on, and probably talk about the hot toilet.

Stay tuned!

Tomorrow we kick this baby bird out of the nest and hope it flaps its wings. Almost two years ago Cam first left me a message saying he had an interesting proposition. We got together and the conversation I’d always envisioned occurring somewhere far down the road just happened. We were going to open a restaurant (as long as I was interested. Never has there been a more obvious ‘no duh’ in my life.) Asa, Cam and I had a bunch of really exciting conversations after than, where we mostly fleshed out what we would want to do with this project. We ate a big dinner at Joseph Leonard and decided that since we all love that place, we could definitely make a place we would all love even more.

When we started talking about the food, I was obsessed with a few french cookbooks, and was revisiting my time in the classic french midtown pretheater stalwart I cut my teeth in (the late Renee Pujol, for anyone keeping score.) I had decided that french would have a moment soon, since two years ago it was the least cool cuisine in the world. The city was then, and remains to this day, all hopped up on stoner asian-american food. But I thought there was something in subverting everybody’s hard-held expectations of french cooking: that either you got the same Bistro food you get everywhere, or that you got Haute Cuisine heaviness. I knew that the french ate pork and anchovies, and thus that french food had a place in brooklyn. My partners agreed.

That settled, we had to find real estate. There followed a bad year or so of shady brokers, shadier landlords, terrible spaces, near misses, and a lot of craigslist. Then, while drinking at Fulton Grand with Jack, our friendly neighborhood designer, his friend told me that he heard Joloff was moving out. I jumped. Through our year of hitting the bricks, we had gotten to know pretty much everyone in the neighborhood, and most importantly had worked with a woman named Dale Charles at PACC, a community development organization. She knew the landlord, and knew about our project, and thus we were able to get in here almost immediately. That is pretty much the story leading up to the beginning of this blog.

This is what we found:

And, through a process outlined is some detail in this blog, this is what we made out of it:

When I say ‘we’ I mean a group of very talented people. I did almost nothing. Some of the people who made this place what it is: Asa, by starting this project in the first place, and being the driving force behind the whole thing (not to mention the money, if we want to be vulgar about it.) Jack, the designer, who took the words ‘70’s french truck stop’ and got super excited about it. Jose, the contractor, who worked with a bunch of fresh fish like us and built a battleship where most would have built a beautiful dingy. Elias, his brother, the man on the scene everyday, who would take every problem we found and fix it within an hour. Claudio, the carpenter, who did things with wood I didn’t really know were possible. Edwardo and German, the electrician and plumber, who were pains in the ass but did great work and made us tight as a drum. There are a lot of other people, but I am now realizing how boring it would be to read a complete list of all out subcontractors. They all did a great job.

Now we have to cook. And then we have to bring that food out to people. And we have to get people drunk. But this is the part we know. After two years we’re finally at the part I am good at. Or at least I hope I am good enough at to deserve such a cool restaurant…

I don’t know how much I’ll be writing after this, as the 15 hour days have already started. I might do one more post after our opening weekend to cap off this document. After that, if you want me, you’ll know where to find me.

Cooking is going really well so far, especially on the pastry front. Danielle has hit every mark she’s aimed at in the last couple days. It’s kind of ridiculous. I made some good pork, and put cracklin’s in rice and whatnot, but she’s really bringin’ it. So far our brownie/flourless thing rules, she made a grapefruit tart (what?!) that was delicious on the first try, and then she made bugnes that are heart-stoppingly awesome (quite literally, since bugnes are basically deep-fried butter.) The real triumph was her first ever attempt at puff pastry. She got all mad at it for not coming together right so she had to eat a taco, but then when we tried it it was beautiful. Her picture of it even got retweeted by Pepperidge Farm Puff Pastry’s twitter. Did you know that existed? Of course, once she’s done making this delicate and beautiful puff pastry, I go and dirty it up by filling it with venison sausage and deep frying the whole thing. This was immorally good to eat. And, yet again, I am a bad blogger and have no photos. The problem is that my phone is where the music comes from while we’re working, and the music is too important to interrupt, so I never grab it to snap a pic. You expect me to interrupt the fourth time in five days that we’ve heard the Ignition Remix?

I do have a picture of our server station, which is actually this super sexy hutch we bought on Atlantic Ave. (the nice part of Atlantic downtown, not the part by us where we buy grease traps.) It fits perfectly in our little hallway, and I am only remiss that we will probably destroy it in the next few years. But while it lasts, it’s a real ‘bute’.

I really will try to take some more shots of things, but in the meantime, I promise that what we’re doing is all delicious.

Yesterday it began. We started cooking. But first we had to clean. On wednesday we spent almost six hours just cleaning the range we inherited and some of the walls. This is what we began with. I didn’t take a shot of the cleaned range because the name of the game kind of had to be ‘good enough.’

All of a sudden, almost without me noticing, I started being at the space for 12 hour stretches. There is something satisfying about this, but now I have to be pretty intentional about things like doing the laundry. 

After a few days of cleaning, yesterday I got a big food order. The kitchen is relatively well set up, but it is definitely still a construction site. To show this I have a photo of the line, with some fun items in the background. See if you can spot what doesn’t belong in a professional kitchen.

Once the line was set up I realized how awesome my new lowboy is (a lowboy is the refrigerator we work on.) I was butchering two pork shoulders and instead of setting up a couple of ice bins to keep the meat cold, I just had to open up the drawer under my station. Once I was done I had a drawer full of pork!

Danielle tested out our Brownie/Flourless chocolate cake hybrid, and it was awesome. Haven’t decided if it will be served warm or cold, but I know that it will be served. I made pork bourgignon, which came out very well despite the fact that it should be served after sitting in the braising liquid for at least a few hours. Some folks came by to eat some of this deliciousness so I had to round out the meal a bit. I had been rendering lard from the pork scraps, so I did something kind of dirty and totally delicious. I emptied the pan I had been using, but left a little lard in it, then cooked jasmine rice in the same pot. Once it was done, I chopped up some of the cracklins and folded in fines herbes. I don’t know if that will go on the menu, but it was super delicious so it will definitely be a family meal item. Unfortunately I’m a bad blogger and didn’t take a photo of the finished dish. I promise I’ll be better about providing food smut in the future.

To finish up, here’s a shot of my brand new pots with stock in them!

Shiny!

Yesterday Danielle and I started cleaning the kitchen! It’s been a long time coming, but it’s here now. We have a three compartment sink, we ordered all our metro shelves, and I bought a boombox. These are the things we need to begin our work. So yesterday, after a long day of going to best buy to sort out our stereo (post-holiday sales!) then going to the bank to sort out some nonsense (ugh) and then going to Atlantic ave. to sort out our shelving (sure) we started cleaning. I guess first we put on Kendrick Lamarr, then we started cleaning.

Once we really started taking apart the 6-burner range we inherited from the previous owner, I realized that it had never been cleaned. Possibly for 5 years of hard use. You know those metal stars on top of a range? You know how they come off and you can clean them and clean the tray underneath? Yeah, I had to use a hammer to pry those up. Oof! I’ll just share one picture of the grease stalactites under the burner that I found:

I would have taken an ‘after’ photo, but in an instance such as this, the end result is me telling Danielle “Good enough.” We did get the thing very cleaned up, but it’s still ugly. Oddly enough I found this endeavor to be very satisfying. Today we’ll keep on trucking, cleaning the deep fryers, griddle, stainless steel wall behind all these things, and the floors. Before that I plan on setting up the stereo in the dining room, so that I can accomplish one thing without getting covered in grease. Oh, and while we’re getting all gross, there will be a wine tasting. I love this job.

So, I’m bringing my clogs to work today, which is a milestone to be sure. The big step, however, will be tomorrow when I bring in my knives. From that point on we’re cooking with gas. Or cooking at all, for that matter. Onward!

This weekend we went to the Bowery to shop for small wares in anticipation of finally getting a working sink today. The place we really wanted to go was closed through the new year so we hit up a couple of alternate places. The first one we went to was well organized and tidy, which sort of threw me off since the Bowery is not supposed to be tidy. Then a big group of tourists came in on some sort of New York restaurant tour. I liked that that was what people coming to the city were doing, instead of Times Square or one of those buses, but it still made us run to the next place, a much more chaotic and lively place called Chef’s Supply.

This was my kind of place. What the joint lacks in square footage it makes up in vertical space. Danielle, Cam and I each took a bus tub and filled it with all the small stuff we need to get started. I have always wanted to do this, since my first trip to a restaurant supply store when I was 20. I didn’t take too many photos, but I did get a shot of some of their knives, which I kind of loved. They had one that was just a long blade with some shoestring wrapped around the handle. It looks like something you grab to kill zombies!

At the end of the trip we had piles of spoons, strainers, bench scrapers, and thermometers. This is a shot of one of our piles.

We didn’t get pots and pans, but that’ll happen today and after the new year. But for now we have plenty to start with.

As a last note, yesterday I went on a more personal shopping trip to the greatest knife store I know of, Korin Japanese knives.

This is a temple to sharpness, a beautiful store where the quality of blades starts at high and goes up to samurai level. I was looking for a long slicer, and decided to go with the same brand as my chef’s knife, Togiharu. The real treat at this place, though, is looking at some of the huge tuna knives that cost more than some cars. These are more like swords than knives, and here is one of the best of them. If anyone ever has six grand they want to throw away, I wouldn’t say no this one.

This is a great store to stop in even if you just want to ogle the blades and buy yourself a benriner mandolin or some nice chopsticks. 

Now all I need is some shelves to put this stuff on, which is much less fun to shop for.

And here’s some more:

This is a shot of our new backbar mirror, also showing the poster mural and the ceiling and some lights. 

This is our chalkboard illustrated by super-cool artist Lindsay Mound. Had a lot of fun hanging around the space at night listening to music, eating tacos, and drinking beer while Lindsay sat on top of a scaffold and made pretty things happen.

I then got up on top of the same scaffold and took the next two shots, trying to get a good sense of the spacen top of the same scaffold and took the next two shots, trying to get a good sense of the space.

Alright, if you need me, I’ll be pacing at the space behind the plumber mumbling to myself.

It’s been a while since I’ve been able to sit down and do a real post, and for that I apologize. I know all of you dear readers of mine rely on this blog for essential information (in case my tone isn’t coming through, read that last line with self-deprecating sarcasm.) The various holidays have mostly come and gone, we’re back in action, and, yet, I still don’t have sinks in my kitchen. Grrrr.

I don’t want to go too far into it, because I can really go on a rant about this (just ask my family!) but the plumber has kind of been dragging his feet on the whole building me a kitchen to test in thing. He’s working on it today, and as soon as I am done writing this missive I will head down there to crack heads (or, more accurately, hover around muttering.) Once that happens, I get in that kitchen, clean everything up, buy a bunch of pots and pans, and start making food. Once that starts, this thing really hits pavement. We are hoping we’re only a few weeks away from opening and we have a heck of a lot to do. Oof.

So, since I haven’t been at the space in a few days, and haven’t blogged in a while, I’ll just post a whole trove of photos I’ve taken over the last couple of weeks. Hope you enjoy them.

Table bases (which I put together one night, constantly worried I’d drop these crazy heavy things and smash our tiles.)

Ample hooks for underbar purse-hanging.

These were already in the back of the booth picture, but they deserve their own photo. We bought these sconces cheap and had our metal guy (I love having a metal guy) clad them in zinc. So cool.

This wall paper takes over our entire server station. It’s badass brooklyn toille designed by Mike D!

Oops, apparently I can only post 4 photos on this thing at once, more to come in the next post!

Booths!

When we were first talking about the look of this restaurant with our designer Jack, a concept came to us. I don’t know who first used the words together, but the phrase “70’s French Truck Stop” captured our imaginations and has come to, at least vaguely, guide our aesthetic decisions. Incidentally, the other phrase that came up, and which kind of combined with truckstop in the final vision, was “70’s Bachelor Pad.” We sent pictures around to each other, and these were two of the best:

Back to the truckstops, though. When we first started talking about it, it was just a vague aesthetic direction. Then I did a bunch of research into the “Routiers,” which is both the word for trucker and truckstop. It turns out they are not far off from the general feel of our place. The food is hearty, delicious, and pretty affordable. One of the funnier facts I learned was that a while back the truckers in france went on strike because the Routiers were going to start limiting the wine they got with their prix fixe lunch to one glass, instead of the half bottle they were accustomed to. What a wonderful country.

So now we’ve found this little bit of Anthony Bourdain’s Burgundy show where he eats in a Routier with Ludo Lefebvre. (Sorry I couldn’t find a clip without an ad to link to.)

http://www.travelchannel.com/video/burgundys-truck-stop-scene

The look of the place isn’t all that spectacular, but the feel is great. A little hommes-heavy, but convivial and down to earth. It also shows a bit of the kind of french cooking I’ve been inspired by. Not the light bistro fare, nor haute cuisine fanciness, but rib-sticking, gut busting food from the countryside. The dish they eat is perfect: a crepe with mushrooms, ham, and béchamel. Anyone who thinks that’s fancy should understand that it is basically a pancake with ham and milk-gravy. Awesome.

Thanks, Tony, for helping to confirm our choices.