Sense of Entitlement

The other night, I woke up several times through the night. This usually happens when I have to get up early the next morning and I had to get up so early that morning for hockey. However, I don’t think that is what was causing the sleeplessness. What kept waking me up was an interaction I had with a customer that night. It shook me. 

It was a solidly busy night and Alex was working an off-site catering but generally the evening was going well and the food was going out a decent pace. We were all having fun, joking around about how tired we all were. You see, it was Valentine’s weekend, the busiest of weeks for restaurants and we were no exception. We had seen our busiest Valentine’s Day ever a few days prior and we had continued to be slammed for the weekend. 

Then the thing happened that throws everyone off: a cook cut himself. Badly. We have a prep kitchen in the basement and there is cook who preps and runs food up to the line all night. The line cooks communicate with the “runner” by flipping a switch and a light comes on in the basement indicating that the line needs something. It took a few minutes to figure out what was even happening (why isn’t he answering the light?!!) but eventually we put all the pieces together and realized we had a situation. So a bartender with first aid training decided to take the cook to emergency for assessment. Emotionally its a complicated moment in a team when someone gets injured. There are the initial moments of confusion and shock, then there is the sorting out of who has to take care of what to keep the team rolling, and then there is the challenge of getting grounded again and getting the job done. 

All of this happens fairly quickly. On average, I would say 10 minutes from cut and being bundled off to the hospital, to regrouping and getting your show back on the road. Remarkably quickly, I would say. And in the meantime, you just want to front of the house to continue on. Keep the drinks coming, the bread, the music, the laughs, the visiting. It’s a conundrum: do you let guests know what’s happening or just let the party keep rolling and hope it doesn’t create too many hiccups? People also are weird about cooks and blood. Understandably so. But, folks, it happens, they cut themselves. And we clean up, throw out whatever they were working on, and clean their station. Life goes on. So, that night, I went with keeping the party rolling. 

Generally the restaurant seemed happy. But the kitchen was overwhelmed. In the time that it had taken to figure out what was happening, sort out what the prep hadn’t got to, and get cooking again was tough on them. And I think our sous-chef’s brain was about to implode from information overload. We stopped calling out the bills for about 5 minutes and regrouped. Just finished cooking what was right in front of us and kept moving. Calling out the bills is letting the cooks know what they need to get cooking. Our sous-chef couldn’t hear another “octopus” or “tequila mussels”. You could see his brain just couldn’t even figure out what we were saying. 

At 25 minutes into this moment in our evening, a very nice lady came up to me. She explained that their table had been there for quite sometime and were wondering when their apps would be up. I apologized. I decided to explain to her that we’d had an incident and that I hadn’t necessarily wanted the servers telling their tables. I also let her know her apps were up next and I would be buying her table’s apps for the evening. She thanked me, seemed to understand and went back to her table. I checked her bill time. The order for apps had been in for 22 minutes. Yep. 22 minutes. She had come in with 7 other people, been sat, ordered drinks, been served drinks, had ordered food and had waited 22 minutes for her apps. It took us another 7 minutes to get them finished, plated and delivered to their table. I felt that we had a done a really good job. 

Another 25 minutes passes, in which time I’ve called Alex and asked him to get back from the catering and he got on the line, and a man from the original woman’s table comes up to me. As we are plating their mains. He talks to me about feeling frustrated at how they’ve had to wait. During this time they’ve also been doing shooters. I can never tell how those affect people. He was not nearly as pleasant as the lady. He was resentful. I explained to him what had happened. I let him know that I had already talked to a party from his table and bought their apps. This somehow didn’t seem to satisfy him. I asked him what I could do to make it better. He responded that someone should have told their table. I explained to him why I hadn’t wanted the servers doing that but acknowledged that maybe I should have handled that differently. I asked him twice what I could do to make the situation better. He didn’t seem to want to focus on solutions, only on the timing problems. He became increasingly irritated with me. I explained that we were plating his food at that moment and I should get back to it.

In the end, the party had apps 30 minutes after ordering them and mains 30 minutes after that. Not our goal. Not a good day. 

Always after moments like this, all the things I should have said come to my mind. Like, “Have you ever had a tough day at work? Does it help when people are nasty to you about it?” or “Having grace is a powerful way to move through the world” but of course none of this comes to me at the time. Instead, we all just try to gather ourselves back up and get back to work.

We are in the business of food. We should have got that food out faster. However, I come from a place where I don’t understand the sense of entitlement that rules our dining experiences. There are people who feel that it is their right to get the food at exactly the same time as anywhere else. It doesn’t matter that we make everything from scratch and cook it to order. It doesn’t matter that someone hurt himself. That person is entitled and they are going to make sure everyone knows. Ok. We know. Wouldn’t it have been more fun to engage in a little more conversation at your table and, if you were totally starving, ask for a little extra bread? Resilience is also an important part of this conversation. Surviving your food taking an extra ten minutes, when surrounded by friends, wine, music, and a lively environment, is a skill we should all develop. And do it gracefully.

I think normally most of this would have been water off a duck’s back for me. You know, I’ve been doing this restaurant gig for 7 years. I was a crisis counsellor for years before that, for people with real problems. But the real kicker of this, and what really bothered me, is that the table stiffed their server. Not one penny. And they made her feel terrible about herself. They completed deflated her. All over waiting a few extra minutes. 

School Nights

As the holiday hubbub wraps up, the ornaments get tucked into boxes and the wreathes seek shelter in a corner of the basement, the energy shifts. The new year is always such a time of cleaning (I love the sparse ways of January after the crowded ways of December), organizing, sorting, creating order for the coming months. At bistro, this shift of season has led to much cleaning and organizing. We recycle all our glass bottles and in December we simply can't keep up so we have a wall of empty wine and booze bottles waiting patiently in old wine boxes to head to the recycling depot. Janine has taken multiple trips in the truck over the past week to take them. You can feel the sigh of relief from everyone at bistro as one more zone gets cleared out and we have a wee bit more space to work! New menu planning is underway. New projects are being ignited. Everyone is taking a deep breath, exhaling relief that we made it, and finding space to move forward.

And, for so many, January also means the return to school. As homeschoolers, we have always just worked when we felt inspired and followed the rhythms of ourselves. For the past two years, I have had 2 kids dipping their toes into academia and so we also returned to school this week. This has been helpful in reminding us that it is time to fire up School Nights again at the bistro.

A few years ago, Alex and I were staying in Toronto at the Drake Hotel. I love the Drake for many reasons (and it is not the peaceful night's sleep that you get, be ready to embrace a party!), in particular I love the creative energy that is sparking away in that place: from drinks, to food, to art, to music, the place is abuzz at all times. There are curated art shows. Like, for real. As many of you know, I like art. My restaurant is chock a block in real, actual pieces of art. My home is crammed with art. I love being surrounded by visuals that engage me, challenge me, soothe me, and generally make me happy. The chef, Anthony Rose, has got some awesome food happening, from the diner, to the lounge, to the 3rd floor, year round outdoor patio, there is yummy food going on. There are bands and theatre productions happening. The Drake is what the Albert could/should be. And every Monday night, there is 86'd hosted by Ivy Knight.

As far as I can sort out, Ivy used to be a cook, working in the kitchens in Toronto. She is cook with a knack for connecting people, writing, and being in tune with the zeitgeist. At one point, I believe she was writing about the Toronto food scene and brunches around town. She has recently started up the fantastic website, swallowfood.com. We first met when Alex and I were brought out to cook at the first annual Cheese Festival in Picton, Ontario ( www.cheesefestival.ca ). Go if you can. Seriously. Cheese in this bucolic setting with wineries every ten feet. Heaven. After the Cheese Festival, we headed to Toronto where we were staying at the Drake, and Ivy invited us to her weekly 86'd night at the Drake. Every Monday for years, Ivy has been hosting a party at the Drake on Monday nights that is connected to the restaurant industry. Whether it's a pickle and pate showdown, a raw milk film screening (complete with cookies and, sadly, pasteurized milk), a cookbook launch or an oyster night, somehow there is a connection to the industry. Hence the 86'd name: code word in restaurants for something we're out of. The first time I attended an 86'd night I thought: I want to host a party like this at my place. An irreverent, funny, pleasing night. Of course, at that point, we weren't big enough. But along came The Other Side.

When we opened The Other Side (as I have since found out it is called out in the world), I began pretty quickly trying to make this happen. I'm like a dog with a bone when I've got an idea. Fortunately, I have friends who are irreverent, funny and pleasing, and who were game to get involved. Sarah Zaharia and Talia Syrie were willing and took up the project. We decided to run it Sunday nights and decided to call it School Nights as it's the last night of fun before having to get up and get back at it. Originally, we had a 'teaching' component to tie in with the theme, but that became cumbersome. We tweaked the concept a bit and came up with a plan to have some fun food (often involving other restaurants or chefs), a fun drink, and some music. And sometimes an activity: pumpkin-carving anyone? We had a hot-sauce throw down where the crowd judges the hot sauces made by various people. We had plum-pudding and punch; spaghetti western night with spaghetti to eat and a spaghetti western film showing; poutine night (which will make a reappearance this spring); opera night where a chorus member came and sang for us and got us all singing! We have had Mariachi's Ghost, the Brothers Landreth, and Mama Cutsworth play. Every week it is a a moment to join people in an evening of snacks, drinks, and music hosted graciously by Sarah and Talia. I am proud and excited by how this event has taken on a life of its own, bringing people from all over the place to have fun in our lounge.

And so, as with the way of January, the planning has begun. School Nights begins again this Sunday. It may involve some grilled cheese. It will absolutely involve some fun, good music and nice people. The @School_Nights twitter account and Facebook pages will keep you in the loop about what were doing. Or, just stop by on a Sunday evening and be surprised and have a little fun.

Of course, School Nights is not the only project I have cooking for the lounge. I really want to do a live art show. And I want some sort of poetry reading or author event. And I want to hear ideas of what people would like. We have this space and we want to do fun, creative things in it.

Digging deep and growing

I fear jinxing it. I have a slight bit of superstition in me. Don’t pass anyone on the stairs. No shoes on the table (which seems both sensible and wise), no mixing red and white flowers, if I spill salt, over my left shoulder it goes. I grew up with my most amazing and awesome Grandma Renee who was incredibly superstitious, as well as a freakishly accurate tea leaf reader, and some of it rubbed off on me. So, I am hesitant to make note of the bistro’s state of relative calm and goodness for fear of tempting the fates. But I am going to forge ahead and make note: Bistro is looking pretty good.

The past year has been so crazy intense I couldn’t even bring myself to write about it. I felt like I was herding cats at all times: money was bonkers with the reno overbudget and the expense of operating a situation more than twice the size of the old one; staffing hit some huge snags (more about the 120% idea of staff in another post); Alex and I hit some major and near fatal bumps in our relationship; and, I was still pretty grief-stricken for my cousin. All in all, it was the most unpleasant of years.

Over the past few months, however, a slight shift has begun taking place. I am remembering how to run a business, get my feet under me. Alex and I have more good days than bad in our 24-year old relationship. We have some awesome staff who care about the bistro whole-heartedly (as did many of the former staff.) We are busy and the food is good and the service is good. School Nights has evolved into its own delighful situation, hosted so graciously by Talia and Sarah. We have once again created a good place to be.

Of course, Alex and I are not ones to sit for long. We have plans afoot. I believe we function best when stretching ourselves. In December, we did a soft launch of our Bistro To Go line. Over the years, people have asked us for jars of things we make, like fennel marmalade, tomato confit, or bacon jam and we have hunted down some form of container and sent them home with whatever their heart desired. We have formalized that process a bit. Our great day Sous-Chef, Grant, who is meticulous and a very smart cook, has embraced this project, creating jars of beautiful concoctions for folks to take home. December proved to be wildly successful for this project and we plan to expand on it. We will set the website up to sell them, I think. And we’ll see if any stores want to stock them, like our fantastic butcher, Marcello, at Marcello’s Meats (shop there – he and his family are amazing!)

We are also going to expand the Bistro To Go line into meals. Recently, our youngest has added “Hockey Mom” to my portfolio. Given that our eldest is almost 15, I felt that we had probably dodged that bullet. Yet, along comes the youngest and not only is she seriously into sports, she is freakishly good at them. And so my life has the added challenges of juggling a hockey schedule. Which, in turn, has added to my craziness around feeding the family. More than once, I have resorted to a roasted chicken from a grocery store. Not with pride but with a little bit of sadness in my heart. All of this has led me to ponder the plight of the families who are juggling 14 things and want something yummy on the table.

We are going to start by offering pre-made meals. You can stop in on your way home and get some short ribs for 4, or ½ a roasted free-range chicken, or some beef bourguignon. We will offer these with sides like mashed or scalloped potatoes, grilled polenta or some quinoa with veggies. Soups made from scratch by our cooks or homemade stocks to make your own. We are open to requests. Which I think will lead us into the next phase of this project: chef services.

Part of our renovation was putting in a large kitchen in the basement, both for prep at bistro and for our other endeavour Bistro Caters! We started Bistro Caters! a few years ago. Alex and I have always loved catering. It’s this really unique opportunity to push our creativity and hospitality into new places. No two caterings are the same and they all provide some opportunities for us to think creatively. We cater all sorts of events, from 4 person dinner parties, to cocktail parties to weddings for 300 people. Ultimately, I would love to have a party planning service but that’s not yet. For right now, we are thinking about ways to use the space and staff we have. We have two sets of really dear friends whose schedules make ours seem like play time. These friends, independently of each other, have hired chefs to cook for them a couple of times a week. Just dropped off, ready to be warmed up, plated and served. Aha!, I thought. This would be a pretty straight forward service for us to offer. And so, Bistro Chefs! is born.

And so the business keeps expanding and doing its thing and creating its own energy. Outside of that part of our lives, Alex and I have also been keen to expand our horizons. We haven’t travelled as much as we like but have had some great adventures. We fell in love with Gimli, like head-over-heels, mooning for her when we are apart, aflutter on the drive, love. We have both started writing for the new prairie on-line paper The Spectator Tribune (Alex has been able to be a bit more prolific on that front than me but I am hopeful!) And we have all sorts of cool and funky little projects started with some friends so we’ll see what shakes out of it all and will write about it as it goes.

Finally, Alex and I had a really ridiculously great opportunity this year. Alex was invited to represent Manitoba at the Canadian Chefs’ Congress. Possibly the most amazing event I have ever attended: incredible food, brilliant creative chefs, political conversation about food, land, sustainability, resources, and one or two parties. At this event, our creative juices really got going again. We are hoping to host this event in Manitoba in 2014. We got engaged in some great national-level conversations about food. And, (this is the biggie) we finally clicked on the topic for a book. Alex and I both enjoy writing and have for years tossed around the idea of what to write about. Something happened in Nova Scotia at this congress, some sparky alignment of the stars, that had us agree on what we are going to write. This past November, our newly 13yo son wrote a 50,000 word novel as part of the NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month – look it up!) event. Needless to say, there is some inspiration to be found in his accomplishment for both Alex and I. And so, an outline has been written and we have both begun our work.

Initially, I started writing this post feeling like 2012 was a disaster. And it was certainly a year of challenges and significant unpleasantness but as I come to the end of this writing, I am reframing it to be the murky place from which beautiful things will be born. 

New Dance Steps

Well, we're a month in. Bistro 2.0 has been in full-swing for about a month now. It's been a spectacular ride. Not seamless, yet not as perplexing as the first time we opened a place.

There have been a few bumpy parts: we're still waiting on lots of equipment, including all the feet to our tables which means we have to be creative with making them sit right! Our second hood,deep fryer, oven, and second walk-in cooler are all yet to arrive. I look forward to that day! One of the little challenges that I didn't anticipate is that when we gutted the old restaurant, we had to put everything in storage, and now that we've rebuilt the restaurant, everything seems to have a new home and we're not always sure where that is. Where do we keep the toothpicks? Has anyone seen anymore water glasses? Do we have short straws? Does anyone know where my shoes got put? There are a lot of conversations like that. Construction is still on-going: we are having offices built and the catering kitchen is about half-done so we continue to shuffle stuff around. It's a bit of a fancy dance we have going on right now!

Learning new systems for everything has also challenged our brains. The boys on the line have so much more space (which is a good thing), and there are now three of them (which is also a good thing) and they have all new equipment to work with (another good thing) but the dance steps have changed. Holy Moly, this charbroiler is hot (resulting in a few misfired steaks!) Who does which part? Moving in the space is different. So many more burns! Look at their arms next time you're in, Alex and Quin look battered.

From the front end, we have installed a computer system. Gone are our lovely handwritten bills in favour of a machine that can split checks anyway anyone wants. The process of switching has been quite funny. SImultaneously none of us wanted to give up the handwritten bill yet we

feared the table of 8 that wanted to split the wine 3 ways and 2 different people would share the appetizer and oh, by the way, can I get my friend's first two cocktails? Learning the new machine has been relatively straight forward but we all felt anxious. At one point during the training, our server and poet-in-residence, Andrew, curled up on the banquette with his hood pulled up over his head, hugging the stuffed penguin. Poor one! Now he's a pro.

The other, more noticeable change is we've grown! Whereas we were once able to seat 44 people (okay, a few more if we REALLY needed to), we can now seat 100. That's a lot of people! At first, I felt unsure of where I was supposed to be, my dance had changed, too. The space was so big! Sometimes I felt like I was chasing after staff trying to connect with them. A funny little British-style sketch routine with us running in circles, always missing each other. I also was constantly worried that I wasn't connecting with customers, that somehow I would miss them.

A month in, we're getting in the groove. You can feel all of us relaxing into this new loveliness. Remembering that we are really good at dancing together. Realizing how fabulous this new

situation is! Table isn't ready? No problem, come sit here in the lounge, have a drink and order your apps. No reso? No problem, come sit here in the lounge and have dinner. Want to have a party of 24? No problem, come sit here in our room and close the doors if you want privacy or leave them wide open to be part of the bistro life! The kitchen has figured out the dance. Food is going out at record speed (45 minutes for main courses on Saturday in the middle of the craziness on bills that included really large pieces of meat!), the food is great - I feel Alex is reinvigorated and has some great cooks supporting him, the servers are happy to have space and equipment and systems that work. And from my perspective, I'm remembering what I love about this: it's fun. I love to laugh. I love to look around and see a room full of happy people eating and drinking. I love to work with my staff. I love to think about dinner features and play with infusing booze. I love this whole life.

Bistro 2.0

We are days away from opening our new lounge and private function room, and completely renovated restaurant. I am simultaneously excited and terrified. The process has been arduous and seemingly never-ending.

Three years ago, we decided that expanding was a good idea. I have always felt little pangs of sadness when I send people away to wait for a table. I feel like they’re in my home, I should be able to accomodate them. And so, we began the process of finding the financing to expand. That was a far more complicated and arduous undertaking than I imagined. When we first opened, banks would not even set up appointments with us. No one, not even the credit union I had been dealing with since childhood, was the least bit interested in gambling on a restaurant. In the end, our friend helped facilitate the opening of bistro. I felt that after 3 successful years of business, banks would be eager to work with us to expand our business and open a lounge. Yeah, no. So we cobbled together a group of family, friends and supporters and managed to secure the financing. Fortunately, in the meantime, the space next door had become available. And so the efforts to open a lounge were really in full swing.

We have had drawings for over a year. We’ve been anticipating this moment for a long time. Of course, the unfolding of it is never as smooth as hoped. We put in permit applications in July. We finally received our occupancy December 23rd. Three different engineers agreed to do the job and then decided they were too busy. Our HVAC people have been AWOL multiple times, we lost our electrician along the way (although the one we eventually got is amazing!)...

Fortunately, in all of that some really beautiful things have also happened. Our friend Derryl Theissen stepped up and became the general contractor and has been doing an amazing job. He has beautifully navigated all the bizarre commercial space rules and the anxiety and stress of Alex and me. I can’t imagine doing another project without him. Mind you, he may not feel the same way! Another lovely situation was a longtime customer called to say he had some leftover tile from his house that he had brought in from Italy, would we like it? He dropped it off and it is stunning. One of the workers on the site has a little puppy that he brings to work every day and that makes all of us happy. But, perhaps for me, one of the loveliest parts has been the designing.

I was fearing the decorating piece of the lounge. I have a lot of ideas and sense of what I want but am not always clear on how to translate that. When we opened the bistro, our dear friend, my mother-in-law’s best friend, gently guided us through making the choices. Her name was Cecile Clayton-Gouthro and she was a textiles prof and artist with a fantastic sense of style. She chose the blue and brown, the art, where the mirrors were hung. She died of cancer the week before we opened.

As I was starting to think about decor and how to tie the two spaces together, I realized I was facing two daunting tasks. First, change. Second, what did I want it to look like? First, I was going to have to let go of the blue and brown; of all the beauty Cecile created. In fact, doing the challenging task of making ‘cold’ colours seem ‘warm’. This is hard to do. And, I believe, we have become a bit identified by our colours. Heck, we even have a ‘Bistro-tini’ that is the blue of our walls. Second, I was going to have to pick new colours, decor, design. Ack!!!

Over the past few years, Alex and I have entered the travel phase of our lives. Our kids are older, we have some flexibility, and we are super energized by travelling. We have been exploring other cities like mad and getting our creative juices flowing, particularly around food and drinks. However, a side-effect has certainly been exploring new ideas of what to do with spaces. We have seen some wild and lovely things in Montreal, Chicago, San Francisco, Toronto, Minneapolis, Vancouver... I believe this has deeply informed how we have proceeded with the lounge, and ultimately the bistro. Our favourite hotel in Toronto is The Drake and one of the things we love most about it is the playfulness of it. I hope that we have managed to bring that quality into the new space.

However, I have felt ultimately incapable of executing the changes without help. And here is one of the loveliest parts of the lounge reno story: A few years ago, my friend Liane Chalmers-Bock decided to go back to school and become an interior designer. Liane and her husband, Ted, have been friends with Alex and I for over 20 years. They were at our wedding. We used to have dinner parties together every Friday night. We were pregnant with our first children at the same time. We had baby play groups. And then life happened. We exchange Christmas cards, see each other a few times a year – at the folk fest or at the bistro – but were not nearly as connected. When I ran into Liane at Loni Beach this summer and had a tour of her beautiful (self-designed) cottage, I asked her if she would consider helping me design the bistro. She agreed and we’ve been on this delightful journey together.

I have really love having Liane to bounce ideas off of, to go shopping with, to gently steer me away from some ideas and toward others. She is calm, patient and has a wonderful sense of style. Through the process of developing a new space and transforming an old one, one that has truly been a touchstone in my life, we have rekindled a really great friendship. It almost makes all the frustration and chaos of the past renovation year worth it!

I look forward to shifting and growing and changing. I also look forward to the rekindled relationship with bistro. The opportunity to feel reinvigorated, reinvested, and energized. To try on new challenges (cheese tasting class anyone?) and to sink into the comfort of all the relationships that make bistro such a special place. I feel pretty lucky. It’s a pretty great gig.

The thing about a blog

It's very hard to keep up a blog.

Wait, no, let me amend that. It's easy to keep up a blog when life is fun and filled with joy. Life has not been like that and I was saying to Alex the other day that I feel like Debbie Downer! I am normally a very upbeat person and I live life with a 'Suck it up, Buttercup' approach. I really try to see the positive in almost all situations (except when I allow my dark humour side out) and I love my life.

As anyone who follows my blog knows, this past year has certainly tested my resilience in the upbeat department. Lots of death and mishap in our family. I really felt that we had turned a corner this spring and then my dear, lovely, sweet, funny, cousin Chris killed himself. Nothing can change that. My family looks like crumpled up pieces of paper scattered on the floor. We are without a way of knowing what to do.

We have spend a lot of time crying and laughing. Chris was very funny and so we remember those bits as much as possible. We can't seem to get close enough to each other. My other cousin, Chris's sister, was sitting at the bar in the bistro and I realized we were so physically close to each other that we were leaning into one another. That's the way now. We lean in.

I am reading a wonderful book, "Blood, Bones & Butter" by Gabrielle Hamilton. She is a beautiful writer and has reminded me of many things I love about the restaurant industry and life with food. I am grateful for this book popping up now. It is gently nudging me back to writing and back to seeing the beautiful little world I live in, filled with crunchy bread, thick, rich chocolate, glorious oozing cheeses that clear the back kitchen with their pungent ways, muddled fruit soaking up rum in the bottom of the shaker, clinking cutlery, great music and lots of friends. I am being very careful to pay attention to all these beautiful things and people surrounding me. I can be sad and I let myself be sad for all the pain of the past year. But I am also happy. Happy that I have the family I do, happy that I work the job I work, happy that my life is full and splendid.

We're heading to a Cheese Festival in Picton, ON next week. We are renting a car and driving from Toronto, staying in a hotel filled with industry people, and Alex is cheffing with some folks. I think the writing bug is back and I plan on sharing some of these adventures in my blog. But before we head to Ontario, we head up to Riding Mountain National Park to be with my family and lean in for awhile.

Restaurant Manners

When our kids were wee, we took them to nice restaurants (we still do.) We encouraged them to pick out nice clothes and sit up in their chairs and make conversation and appreciate the opportunity. They were dinner party pros by the time they were 5. Alex's mom fed them off of Rosenthal dishes while in the highchair (this made me crazy with worry!) My point is, we have the ability to learn how to behave properly in a restaurant. With our kids, we call it "restaurant manners" and we whisper this in their ears as we enter a restaurant as a gentle reminder of the social expectations of the situation. In fact, this shorthand often works in other social situations, too. And if a three year old can say please and thank you and appreciate the experience, I'm pretty sure some adults can learn this skill as well.

The other night we had a very difficult table. Now, I'm prepared to go the extra mile for people. I will send dishwashers to pick up the right kind of juice at the store, I will bring them a chair to sit on while they wait at the front door, I will visit with them and make as much effort as possible to meet their needs. And this was the case with this table: we all went a few extra steps to make them happy. I have very few issues with high-needs tables: we're in the hospitality industry! We are good at "killing with kindness", I call it. Lots of smiles and attention. Usually this results in a lovely time for everyone. Yet, the problem was: this table was rude. They were demanding, dismissive & crabby. And, it was relentless: at no point did they shift to being kind or nice. It was as if they had no need to be polite because they were somehow above it. . I am so perplexed by this. What benefit does this bring the table? How can you feel proud of yourself or enjoy yourself if you are demeaning another person? I've been toying with how to address this: should I offer reminders to these tables that they have to be nice to their server? should I post an explanation of "restaurant manners" on the wall? or menu? in the washroom?

The reality is that we get all kinds of customers and 90% of them are delightful, 5% odd and 5% rude. We'll put up with rude because that is the gig. All we can hope is that rude people will recognize their jarring ways and tip accordingly.

Harvest Kitchen Project

Last night, Alex and I attended the Winnipeg Harvest board meeting and gave a presentation on the Harvest Kitchen Project.

As a couple, we have been involved in many volunteer and community-based projects over the years but it has been a long time since I have felt so excited about working with an organization and the work we are doing. The whole story, of course, starts with a regular customer at the Bistro who has beautifully shifted into a friend. Sherri Walsh is a lawyer, a wife and mom, and president of the board of Harvest. One night, she started to tell me about her work at Harvest. She has been a volunteer there for 20 years and clearly loves it. Until recently, Harvest has been housed in a series of warehouse buildings on Winnipeg Ave. Harvest has been adapting to space constraints for years. When the federal government created stimulus infrastructure grants, Harvest recognized an opportunity to get rolling on some space designed for their needs.

Currently, there is a wee room in the old building that has some counters, a household sink and a household stove. Every day, a group of (mostly) women come in, set up crock pots and electric skillets, balance cutting boards on rolling carts, and make lunch for 80 people. It is amazing. So, the first goal for the new space is to provide these 'lunch ladies' with some proper work space. The second series of goals relate to training and education, and this is where Alex and I really step in. The goal is to provide educational programming for clients of Harvest: cooking with diabetes; cooking for kids/teens; cooking for new immigrants; cooking for families, etc. WIth a general theme of working with low-cost foods. We also hope to expand this part of the program to include some gardening skills to supplement the food supplies. (Last year, Harvest used old blue boxes to have container gardens!) We're hoping to write some curriculum and get some community members out to teach some of these classes.

The Training Program is going to be more intensive and about creating job-ready candidates, hopefully shifting clients away from needing the services of Harvest. We plan to offer 6 or 8 week courses that will teach people basic kitchen skills that will prepare them for entry level positions in kitchens at nursing homes, hospitals, cafeterias. We will also offer some extended training courses on meat cutting and baking for jobs in butcher shops and bakeries. This is the part of the project where will be tapping some of our chef friends for some support (head's up!) I also think there might be some room to teach a course of being a server but I haven't quite sorted that out.

We have many more ideas percolating away: fundraising dinners executed by students, pea soup making contest entries at Festival du Voyageur (split peas are a frequent item in Harvest baskets),recipes for obscure items provided for clients in their baskets, more Hot in the Kitchen calendars? We are very excited about it and hope that some folks out there in our lovely city will generate some ideas and get into the project with us.

The Year that Was

I have mulled this post over for months. I have written it in my head 20 times, at least. It is tough one to write. My goal is to not be too personal, yet at the same time provide a glimpse of our lives over the past year; to eke out some context. My other goal is to not be too bleak. It is dark material yet it is simply life. I think this past year will take a long time to process and so very little of it has to do with the bistro but so much of it has impact on the bistro. Complicated, non? Further complication: I need to write about things that are personal to people I love and I don't want to make them uncomfortable. *sigh* I am going to give this a quick go and then move on to what comes next.

It has been the year of deep, painful, life-changing tragedies in our lives. I think it began in the spring with one of our family members being diagnosed with cancer. They are fine now, essentially a clean bill of health, but the process of surgery and complications and treatment were very intense.

Someone in our chosen family had a baby at 28 weeks. That is a scary and long ride which has been really hard.

Two children in our extended family died this year.

My grandfather died. He lived on Dominion St. and was really funny and quirky. My sister and I had to spend two weeks sifting through his hoarder house and tending to his life possessions.

Our eldest child broke her foot and was on crutches for 5 weeks.

Our youngest child broke her arm in the most horrific version possible that has meant surgery, 3 casts, nerve damage, physiotherapy, and to this day, on-going appointments with doctors. We still cry sometimes over this one, she and I.

I have been wondering why I feel compelled to share all this deeply personal and dark information. Really picking it apart in my therapist brain. In the end, I really feel that these events have meant that I have shut myself down, preserved my mental and emotional energy for our personal lives. I am sure that I have still managed to be present at the bistro and I am still able to have fun at work yet there hasn't been space for anything beyond that. And so, I think I feel a need to talk about this year so that I can move beyond it. I want to shift out of this place of difficulty and look toward a dynamic and full year. There are many interesting projects coming up. The lawyers are negotiating the lease for the expansion. We have been invited to Ottawa to cook representing Manitoba. We're giving a talk at a business conference talk on using social media in business, we're doing Folk Fest nuttiness and we've got a new project cooking with Winnipeg Harvest that is going to a crazy fun ride.

So many of the clients at the Bistro are really important people to me and have provided me with friendship and laughter which has buoyed me throughout this year. Thank you all for that support and kindness.

City vs. Country

As a kid, I grew up in both the city and the country. We weren't so wealthy as to have two houses; we spent the first 5 years of my life in the city, moved to the country, then moved back to the city when I was 15. I have a complicated relationship with rural living. I am an extrovert. I love engaging with people and I get a surge of energy from any interaction. When we lived in the country, our nearest neighbours were a mile away (and they were a little weird, they kept a phone in their house that was reserved for conversations with God...) My only sibling is 5 years older than me and wasn't around much. Most days, I was lonely and bored.

On the flip side, I grew up with 3 acres of gardens, pigs, horses and generally some skills with country living. I can grow all sorts of things, pickle and put up preserves, and capture a chicken. I like putting on rubber boots and stomping around in the field. I have a great affection for this life. But, when we moved to the city, I felt like someone had flipped a switch. I couldn't get enough of being around people. I don't think I was alone for the first five years! I felt buzzy and happy.

It's funny how fundamental this all remains within me. On our travels, I was so happy in Napa. We were staying in Rutherford, a town of 500 people. It was pitch black at night, it was so quiet and pastoral, you could watch the mice skitter and the hawks circle. We travelled through vineyards and organic gardens and discussed ways to garden better. It was perfect.

Then, 2 days ago, we landed in San Francisco. As we drove in, the 2 hour drive, you could feel the shift starting to happen. Gradually, we were surrounded by more and more people. Then all of a sudden you're in 4 lanes of bumper to bumper traffic. Once we ditched the car and started walking and walking and walking, amidst thousands of people on the streets, you couldn't wipe the smile off my face! I felt buoyed by the energy of the city, I could feel it pulsating through me. My city girl came alive! We have been to as many parts of the city as we can cram in, met people in every place we've stopped, eaten some of the best food I've ever had, tried new cocktails, ridden street cars, jammed our days as full as possible. It makes me so happy!

And so, I love that I have these parts of me and they both get turns. Our son has lobbied hard for the past few years for some property in the country and this trip has clarified for me that this is a worthwhile investment. When we get home, we'll step up the hunt for someplace to be quiet, build tree forts, plant some vegetables and watch the stars. And then return to the city to get amped up again!

Napa valley

We're on our last day in Napa Valley. This has been a beautiful and educational three days. I feel like so lucky to have had the opportunity to meet all these amazing people and learn so much about wine and wine-making. The first day, we went to Joseph Phelps and had this VIP tour with a gentleman named Keith. I'm pretty sure he was actually Garrison Keillor. He spoke in this soothing midwest accent and told us stories about the property and the development of Napa and winemaking. I listened to him for two and a half hours and I could have stayed around for more.

After Phelps, we made our way to Quintessa. Phelps is an old well established winery. Quintessa are sort of the new kids on the block. I think they bought their land twenty years ago. Here we had a young woman named Kaitlyn take us on a hike through the property and sat on a hill drinking one of their sister wineries' sauvignon blanc, Illumination. Quintessa was hands down my favourite tour. They are bio-dynamic and after some gentle prodding, Kaitlyn opened up and gave us some really great information about how that works. I particularly like the use of animals to tend to the crops. Kaitlyn explained that some wineries are quiet about being bio-dynamic as it is considered flaky and can keep some 'serious' wine drinkers away. I have to say, I did notice an odd reluctance to discuss organics, bio-dynamics and the environmental impact of say, hundreds of thousands of new oak barrels, at other wineries. I was surprised.

Our final tour that day was Caymus. Caymus is a wine we've stocked for most of the time we've been open. This event was actually just a tasting, with some quick notes about the history of the business from the wine educator. The group had a very drunk couple from New York in it and that kind of made the dynamic a little wonky. In the end, it was the weakest event of the day.

Yesterday, we did Cakebread and Sequoia. Cakebread is a consistently fabulous wine that has always been a popular wine on our menu. It's pretty high end but when you see the production, it starts to make sense. Essentially, the winery tracks every barrel and mixes the barrels in specific lots to achieve a specific profile. It is painstaking. Once they have achieved the profile they are after, they then mix the same combination of barrels to create a run of a wine. The other wineries we met worked in a more 'batch' approach. They played with the chemistry but they didn't track each barrel from each lot. We had a very passionate tour guide at Cakebread, who had been a winemaker himself in Oregon, who clearly felt Cakebread was simply the best. He said that their 2007 Cab had such high ratings that they have pulled it from the tastings! He was also the least interested in talking about organics or the environmental impact of winemaking! Ironically, my favourite part of the tour was meeting with the Master Gardener and touring the organic gardens!

Sequoia is a beautiful winery right next door to Cakebread. Aptly named for the giant sequoias growing on the property, they are a teeny winery with some lovely wines. However by this point, I was pretty worn out and got distracted by a great cheese book from a collective cheese shop in Berkeley. The wine educator liked Alex so she poured him a lot of a big variety of reds, most of which we can't get because they only sell them from the winery. By the end of the tasting, Alex was pretty looped so we made our way to the Rutherford Grill and had a fantastic lunch.

Today, we are heading to Rubicon (Francis Ford Coppola's winery) and then to Boon Fly Cafe in Carneros. I love the name so hopefully we'll have fun! Tonight we head to San Francisco for a different type of fun and hopefully some night life!!

Finally, I just want to send a big thank you in Tina Jones' direction. I know that we buy a lot of wine from Banville & Jones and it makes sense that they would want to get us connected with the winemakers but Tina has gone above and beyond in taking care of this leg of our trip. She's pretty awesome and a great role model for business women in Winnipeg.

Travelling

About a year ago, Alex and I committed to trying to travel more. As young folk, we were very poor (can we buy a ladle this week? No? Ok, the coffee cup will work for another week... ) We had lots of fun and had dinner parties and went camping a lot. Then we bought a house at 23 and poured all our energy and spare money into renovating it. After that, we had kids. No time, no money, no energy.

So, here we are. We work like crazed people at the Bistro all the time. Most people don't know that we start dealing with stuff from home by about 9 am and usually don't leave work until midnight. I stay home with the kids during the day and we have our adventures in homeschooling. Generally life is very full and we really felt it was time to start travelling. It seems like a good way to unplug and recharge our batteries. Also, about two years ago, we figured out that our kids are fantastic travellers and they are all game for an adventure.

In the past year, we've been to Montreal, Toronto with the kids, Toronto without the kids, Vancouver with the kids (we are avid air miles collectors now!) This week, Alex and I are in Napa Valley and San Francisco. This trip was a gift from both our families to Alex for his fortieth birthday. We have talked about this trip, fantasized about this trip, since we were 18 years old. And now we are here!

Of course, all trips come with hiccups: our flight was delayed out of Calgary so we missed a bunch of stuff that we wanted to do in San Francisco yesterday. And, they lost my luggage. Which has meant not only am I without my things, we had to waste valuable time yesterday shopping for socks and underwear and a toothbrush for me. But we are here! And today we are going to go on 3 VIP wine tours that TIna Jones from Banville & Jones organized for us. I am just in awe of this whole experience. I plan to try to chronicle it as we go. But, who knows, I may just be eaten up by the moment.

I am very grateful that Alex and I have shifted away from buying things for each other and toward creating experiences. It also seems to be rubbing off on our kids: our son asked that no one give him any gifts for his birthday or Christmas. He asked for people to donate money instead. As a family, we decided to also pool our resources to send him on a trip to Vancouver to see his cousin and his buddy. I hope he has the adventure of a life time.

Still alive

We survived the Folk Fest!!! I believe that I felt at 3 am on Saturday morning wandering around Festival Camping that my survival may in fact have been in doubt. Fatigue had set in. I was surrounded by mayhem. Delightful mayhem but mayhem nonetheless. People dressed up as teddy bears, minstrels of varying quality, a giant sphinx and multiple pyramids, one of my staff in a housecoat wandering around muttering and gesturing to himself, a LOT of glowy stick people and one Christmas light guy, mussels being cooked, lasers being shone into the sky, the smell of pot and booze and cigarettes, seas of tents, and a giant lit up roving dragon. Oh yeah, and we were sleep deprived in a way I haven't been since having a newborn baby.

I loved it, tho. Love the festival, love festival camping. We are now plotting on how to get to Burning Man to cook. I love the idea of bringing fabulous food to fantastic places and being part of this enormous creative energy. We cooked and cooked and cooked. I'm sure that over the next few weeks I will continue to process this whole time in my life because it was so full and amazing.

We moved into our new digs which I have to say I was very worried about. I was not wanting a building, I was happy with my cooking tent and outdoor dishpit and cajoling the health inspector into our perspective: grass if fine flooring. However, change comes and you have move with it or get knocked over. I'm more of a move with it and see where it takes me kind of person. The building is phenomenal! It's huge and airy and bright and has the potential to be enormously efficient. It is cavernous so I had almost no voice by Monday. It was the place everyone wanted to hang out! We had musicians come and play for us and busses drop off folks right at our porch. We have a porch! it is really a beautiful space.

The food was good, too. There were some hiccups: chicken on the bone is tricky but extra tricky when there is no prep time and you have to make it on the fly! Potatoes (most starches, really) for 5000 are just challenging. But there were some highlights: bison short ribs falling off the bone, 3-bean salad out of this world!, grilled cheese sandwiches, and some crazy apple pancake thing that Alex said, "It worked!!" when he saw it (I sense he may have had some fears on its viability). We also cooked in "guerilla tents", setting up tables and burners wherever we could find a bit of space, on the folk fest site and the camp site, we simply started cooking and people would come to get food. When we ran out of food, we shut it down. It was so great! It also has opened up ideas for me around travelling food and bringing food to places.

I have left this festival with many great ideas rattling around in my head and we'll see what they lead to.

Delightful Bedlam

Oh, it's been a whirlwind. Every year around this time I think to myself: Why? Why in the world did you think this was a good idea? Surprisingly I am not talking about a) being married b) having children c) owning a restaurant. In fact, I am talking about running the backstage kitchen at the Winnipeg Folk Festival.

When I was eight years old, in 1978 (gasp, I know I don't look it, do i?!), my dad's best friend was on the board of the folk festival and invited my dad to come. My dad and I have similar senses of adventure so he brought me along and we both fell in love with it. We volunteered the following year (this is before people worried about age restrictions, seat belts, smoking while pregnant, general safety, etc.) and were put in the kitchen. I was given jobs to do and started a life long love affair with the place. My dad still volunteers (somehow he got the 30-year volunteer jacket and I didn't?) but he has defected from the kitchen and is now a schlepper. They drive golf carts and look pretty.

When Alex and I were 23, we were asked to take over running the kitchen. At the time, there were about 100 kitchen volunteers and we fed about 1200 people 2 meals/day for 3 1/2 days. Today, there are 3600 volunteers and probably 1500 assorted other people, including performers. This year, our crew has 250 people on it and we will be feeding everyone for seven days. It's a mammoth task.

And, though I ask myself, why in the world did you think this was a good idea?, better than ever before, I know the answer. Three years ago, we were not "hired back" (fired, I do believe) and we had to sit out two festivals. We were given other tasks but truly it was painful. I was so sad I took up running and shed 50 lbs. It was a terrible period of feeling like I didn't control anything and like I didn't know where I belonged. The best part was running. I still love it and I have learned to be somewhat more accepting of the path I find. A smidgen more zen than I once was.

Last year, a new Executive Director landed at the festival and very graciously asked us back. I leapt at the opportunity (Alex did chide me a bit for not at least pretending to think about it for a bit) I have felt completely invigorated by the experience. I am back with my peeps! I love this work more than I can say. Building a kitchen where there was bush, watching cooks become chefs, deciding what song to have the two thousand people lined up for dinner sing for their supper, sharing a glass of wine with an old friend: it is truly magical.

I am currently buried under emails, logistical problems (how to get food to one place from another, how to deal with black pepper sensitivities and vegans with soy allergies, getting people on site when I need them, making sure everyone's ordered their food, do I have enough reefer space?!), personality conflicts (it'll all be FINE, I'm sure), and lost things (I don't even know what those are yet) but I am relishing it. *sigh* I love this time of year.

Now I run to make sure I have my ducks in a row.

3 most common questions

There are three questions I commonly get asked:

Where do you get your hair done? Buck at Hive Hair Co. I've been going to him for 12 years. I am very attached to him and he is very sweet.

Where do you get your jewellery? Predominantly at bijou on Provencher. I also have a fondness for Hilary Druxman. And, I have been known to get stuff at Zellers (yep) and H&M.

Finally, the one I find hardest to answer: How can you work with your husband?

I am stumped by that one. It's complicated.

It has not always been easy. Last year, we went through a business and relationship crisis. Now the thing about a crisis is that it clears away the clutter and your vision becomes laser sharp. We both needed that. It seems to me that you can bumble along living life without being mindful and the whole thing gets muddy. What is important? It was a process and it took about six months to begin to come to a better place and now, a year later, we are on much firmer ground. I think for me the most interesting part is that the crisis confirmed for both of us that we really love working together. In fact, I would be surprised if we ever worked apart again.

Alex and I push each other to be better, stronger, harder working, more creative, more responsible, more capable, and more fun. We can call each other on our shit or we can turn a blind eye. We know how to make something hum. We both love what we do and love it ten times more when we are sharing it. Wild, huh?

Finally, the most important thing for both of us is that we make each other laugh. Even when it's all a mess, we can find a way to laugh! Makes for a pretty great work day.

May I?

Over the course of the past couple of months, there has been a bit of a spotlight shining on to the restaurant worker community. Essentially, a Red River student created a book for a project that asked some local chefs to tell her "uncensored" tales of working in a kitchen. One local chef wound up in a jam about what he spoke about. I'm not interested in getting into that - not my business. However, I do want to talk about behaviour by restaurant workers.

Let me preface this discussion by saying I grew up in a feminist workplace. For ten years, I worked in a unionized, left-wing, feminist, health care facility. Loved it! Loved my co-workers. Loved working in this very safe, highly protected work environment. There were days of dark humour born out of the life and death situations we found ourselves processing but there certainly was always very respectful behaviour amongst staff and clients.

Then I came to work at a restaurant. Wow. I'm not in Kansas anymore. First of all, we are in a tiny workspace. I have to say that the amount of bodily contact in a night would make anyone blush. What can you do? Sometimes you can't get pass another person or reach for a bottle without some inappropriate touching! And, the language! I have become the queen of the f-bomb. I talk like I was raised by sailors! And then there are the jokes and put-downs. Got to have tough skin and be able to laugh at yourself or you'll never survive. I always use to admire that Alex can so easily laugh at himself but now I get it: he grew up in a restaurant. Now, I too have that skill. Essentially, it's a brutal environment: you are hot, tired, and inevitably someone has treated you like something they found on the bottom of their shoe, running for about 10 hours at a go. And, SMILE! (Not every day is like this but every day has at least one of those elements.) Add into all of this, the predominantly 15 year old boy support staff and you have a recipe for some very basic humour.

I have to admit, I was shocked by it all at first. I am now acclimatized.

Here's the interesting thing, tho. The piece that hasn't been talked about in the FreeP or the Guardian. During service, restaurants work on an age-old system of basic respect. Everyone says, "May I?" before speaking to you. Servers run each others' food, bussers hustle to clear tables, cooks make beautiful meals for their co-workers, shifts are covered, cooks call each other 'brother' and when they are in the shit, they mean it. Sometimes people comment on how long we keep staff. And we really do. We've had people with us since the beginning. We're small and started with no money so they haven't been staying for their stellar salaries. The environment at Bistro is very familial. We are there to take care of each other. It is amazing how sweet and kind we can be to each other and to the customers. That's very important to me. But just like siblings on the playground, when we play it can be ugly!

So, yes, restaurants breed rude and inappropriate behaviour in their staff. And, yes, restaurant workers are some of the sweetest, hardest-working, most respectful people I have ever met.

beer

The other day, I had a talk with myself. This is, fortunately or unfortunately, not a rare event. On this particular occasion, I was giving myself a talking to.

Here's the thing: I like to be helpful. I like to have a purpose. I like to aid the project along. And so, when things are jumping at the bistro, I will sidle up to people and offer to get them a drink. Most of the time, this is not a problem. They say, "Sure, I'll have a caesar or a vodka martini extra dry," and I toddle off to create it.

However, sometimes, people say, "Sure, what kind of beer do you have?" Now, at that moment, I panic. Complete despair. 'I don't know' I whine in my head. And then I rattle off a few different beers that I know we carry: Fort Garry Pale, Fort Gary Dark, Stella, and then on into others like Half Pints, Leffe, Heineken. Of course, the person responds with: "Great, I'll have a St. James Half-Pint" And off I go to the beer fridge, muttering a prayer of hope that we actually have the beer that I have suggested we might. More often than not, Murphy's Law kicks in and we don't have the beer they order from me and I have to go back and try again. Including trying really, really hard to memorize what beers we actually DO have.

There are three things: One is I don't drink beer. I really love beer but I cannot drink it as I'm allergic to tyramines which are found in beer. This means that I can't remember the names of the beer beyond a very few specific ones. If I don't drink them, I can't remember their names (a learning style issue, I'm sure.) Second, I don't stock the beer fridge so I have no idea what we have and what we are out of. Third, we are a tiny restaurant and don't have a ton of storage space so if a party of 10 people focus on one beer, they will blow through the two cases we started the night with and I won't necessarily know.

All of this translates into my knowledge of the state of beer at the bistro at any given moment being pretty dismal. And yet, I keep pretending like I know. Hence, the talking to. And the fessing up: I will no longer pretend to know what beer we have even though I feel like a spaced out goof when I say to a customer that I will have to get a server to list them. The price of being honest.

significant moments

There are moments in time that feel significant. Moments where you think to yourself: Well, that's going to change my life. Tonight, I had such a moment.

Five years ago, I had such a moment. I should preface this by saying that I am an intuitive gal (and I believe that this is an important part of people - yeah, I know, it can flaky and weird but it works for me). I rely on my gut, a lot! So, five years ago I was sitting in my tent trailer at my uncle's property near Clear Lake reading the newspaper and I saw a pencil drawing of the building at 725 Osborne St. and I knew that this moment was a biggie. I called Alex on his cell (he was still at work and going to join us later in the week) and said, "I found it." He knew what I meant. He called the landlord and the rest is Bistro 7 1/4 history.

Tonight, I had a moment. I sat in a meeting with two chefs and a friend and thought, "Well, there you go." Many of you know that Alex and I are constantly curious and working on multiple projects at a time but tonight was a meeting with a significant weight.

We'll see what happens but I am excited to be on yet another adventure!

the news to now...

I apologize for not writing more recently. It has been a crazy few weeks! First, I turned 40 which felt significant. I'm still processing that one although I sense my forties are going to be good to me. One of the advantages of owning a restaurant is that you can use it to host parties on occasion and so Alex threw me a fabulous birthday party! Thank you to all the staff for working so hard to create wonderful food and a lovely evening for me. Thank you to all my friends and family (my sister flew in from Vancouver!) for celebrating such a important event with me.

Next we flew off to Montreal for a couple days of rest and relaxation (read: catching up on sleep and eating incessantly.) Aside from two overnight trips to Grand Forks, Alex and I have not had a holiday since our week off last January so we seem to be trying to create more space for play (as the work piece is intensifying - see below.) Okay, every time I go to Montreal, I wonder why I don't live there. I love the urban nature, the metro, the restaurants and the markets make me want to weep. I love the French culture, the in-your-face, of-course-I'm-right, let's-have-a-drink-and-laugh craziness of it all (for those who don't know, I am half French Canadian). We ate ridiculously yummy food, mostly involving Au Pied de Cauchon restaurant and the markets. We bought fresh chickpeas, sausage from Ile-de-Madeleine and the most glorious cheese imaginable. My favourite is called Le Secret, a runny, oozing, melt in your mouth bit of joy (my girlfriend and I call it 'cheese puddle'). The cheese list at the restaurant takes up half the chalkboard and is being gobbled up by appreciative cheese lovers! I know Alex is going to write more about the food in his blog.

Next, we are heading to Toronto with our kids for some quality time with Alex's extended family. And, to shop for kitchen items (we need a quail egg cutter - who knew?) and food! In her retirement, Alex's aunt Inara took a part-time job at The Cheese Boutique. Of course, this is one of the few members of Alex's family that isn't obsessed with food so there is a fair bit of irony in that. Anyway, we'll be spending lots of quality time with Inara shopping for cheese! We also plan on checking out Mark McEwan's new market/restaurant, going to our friend Joanne's restaurant Relish, and heading to the Black Hoof for some offal and other nasty bits. If anyone has any suggestions for food stores or restaurants, please pass them along.

We are also planning trips to Brandon for the Royal Winter Fair (I love the fair, horse jumping and pig displays rock my world) and then to Vancouver in May to see our family and friends there. I haven't even begun to wrap my head around the food possibilities of that trip yet.

In between all of this, we have begun the process of planning the folk festival (yeah!!!) and our expansion (yeah?). I joke. Of course we are excited about the expansion of our restaurant to include a lounge and a private party room (and city planners willing, a patio) however I am not so daft as to not recognize the mountain of work involved in that process! We have drawings, we almost have a prospectus done and we are in negotiations with the landlords to take over the space next door. It's exciting and terrifying all at once. I will continue to update on the progress of this project.

As for the Folk Festival: full steam ahead! We are going to have a building to cook in this year. The design (Syvverson Monteyn) is fantastic but I will be a little bit sad to let go of my tent in the bush. There is something very empowering about saying that you cooked dinner for 5000 people in a tent in the bush. We are working on the menus (so if you have any desires/suggestions/needs, say them now), planning our guerilla kitchens (popping up next to you at any given moment), Alex's mainstage act, maybe some wine pairings, and a few surprises, too!

So, off to work and play I go!

The long distance reso

I am out and about today, running errands, schlepping children to activities, tending to life and an event occurs that takes place about once a week: someone recognizes me and tries to book a reservation.

When we first opened and this would happen (occasionally people would call us at home, strangers as well as friends, and do the reservation that way), I would happily agree to the reservation and remember to write it down when I got to work. I guess a few things have changed since then. Every night, we have multiple reservations for every table and so knowing what is available can be daunting. The other challenge is that I now have to remember 5000 pieces of information; the quantity grew exponentially as the restaurant grew. I often feel like my thoughts are like sticky-notes with no stick left. I have no place to put them and they just fall off.

So, I try to be gracious about resos taken on the fly but I really cannot remember what we have available for Tuesday, February 16th. I also can't be trusted to remember to put your reservation in the book unless I am standing in front of it with a pencil in my hand.

Of course, I can remember the really important things like what the woman on table 4 was drinking last Thursday. Oh well, better than nothing I suppose.