Things should be looking good for Jonah Miller. He’s an NYU
grad, former sous chef, worked in restaurants since he was a teen, starts his
own Spanish restaurant, has to open with a bang. The problem is that he’s
starting an expensive restaurant with high prices, where the chance of failing
is high. He can tell right away that the customers must have money; they have
wide-gauge holes in their ears, which aren’t allowed at most day-jobs. In the
first chapter you already get the feeling that he’s in way over his head, even
though he clearly has the work ethic and the ambition. Now you see that things
are not looking good; on the contrary, they look unsteady, and soon they look
bleak.
A little about the
chef; obsessed with cooking from a young age, he got into it before cooking
became hip, apprenticed in restaurant kitchens, lots of internships, and he was
clearly an excellent chef by the time he opened Huertas. The problem, at least
from the way the author puts it, is that he’s big on the cooking and short on
the business sense. The first, and funniest chapter, is called “Stampede,”
where the opening night makes them all crazy. He rebukes the head waiter in
earshot of the customers, which pisses off the staff. Then customers start
sending back medium rare chops because they’re too pink. Then they start asking
for substitutions, which is always trouble, and the problem graduates to
customers trying to make their own menus. You want to say “for crying out loud,
enjoy what the chef creates, don’t dictate how you think the artist should
paint the picture!” But this is a problem that a lot of restaurants have, where
the customer demands customization. What chef Miller needs to do is follow
Marco White’s example and toss these whiners out.
The good thing
about this book is that it shows you how the restaurant is as much about
business as it is about food. Whole chapters are devoted to finding a place for
the restaurant, then getting the alcohol license, building it, and dealing with
the politics of the community boards. The first problem he has is that he
doesn’t want to buy an existing restaurant, because he’s afraid the reputation
will carry over. This is called a “vanilla space,” where you’re building it up
from scratch. Then the landlord won’t rent until he sees the alcohol license,
because it’s the only way he can guarantee that the lease can be sold. That
means dealing with the downtown community boards, always hostile to alcohol-serving
establishments. Then he has to find a contractor who can renovate in time and
give him a good price. Then he has to deal with permits and ordinances.
Everyone involved resents dealing with this 26 year old.
I get the vibe
that Miller started the restaurant out of resentment. He was clearly
overqualified to be a sous chef, and I know from experience how frustrating it
is when you don’t get promoted. I could really relate to how this guy would
feel, I would be thinking “come on, I’ve proven myself, give me the chance to
move up will ya!” But then it doesn’t happen, and he feels like there’s no
choice except to strike out on his own. Maybe his real problem is that he
confuses thinking with feeling? Following your heart and not your brain can ruin
you.
Generation Chef is one of many chef
biographies that have come out in the last 15 years on the coattails of Anthony
Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential. Unlike
that, and Marcus Samuelson’s book, it doesn’t have all the humor. Other chefs
would rather be hired by someone else’s restaurant, rather than have to do
everything themselves. The only thing Bourdain and Samuelson ever had to do was
cook, at the worst they’d have to manage the kitchen. But Miller, he has to
raise the money, find the place, get the license, find the contractor, get it
built. He may be a great cook, but he’s no builder, and definitely not a
businessman. It almost reminded me of Rodney Dangerfield in Back to School, where he questions the
professor about building a factory. “Why build?” he asks, “when you can lease
it for a buck and a half a square foot?” He’s right on that one, the building
costs can deplete the entire investment.
The story is a
little confusing and hard to follow. The introduction, with the opening night
debacle, should’ve been restricted to one page. There’s also too much
back-and-forth in the story, so you get distracted by trying to keep things
chronological. It might have done better as a multi-article series in the New York Times.
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