Massachusetts Restaurant Association Archives

Little Town Blues

September 19, 2017 by Scott Plath Leave a Comment

One night on New York City’s Lower East Side (LES if you’re cool like that), my noodle buddy and I lingered in a ramen joint watching 14th Street passersby through the window.

“If you folks are done, please pay your bill. We have people waiting for your table,” came the nearly polite manager’s request that we addio, vamanos, git. …

Such strategy is common in a city that never sleeps, alongside other “eat or be eaten” policies, like offering no coffee or dessert (“There’s a coffee shop across the street.”) and “You must order your appetizers with your pizza,” like at Mario Batali’s oh-so superior Otto pizzeria. (Translation: There will be no lingering up-in-here. Gotta make hay).

But the only place outside of NYC where I’ve ever heard of guests being steered out in favor of those waiting (and essential sales) was in our own Merrimack Valley, by Lowell restaurateur Richard Rourke. As founder-owner and premier entertainer of Ricardo’s Cafe Trattoria on Gorham Street, Richard (aka Dick, aka Ricardo) did it his way for 17 years in the intimate and challenging location originally launched as La Boniche. But when La Bo’s chef decided to move her beloved bistro to newer digs closer to the downtown “action,” Dick kept the flames of entrepreneurship alive, sparking his Euro-esque “Touch of Italy with a side of jazz.” It was there that Dick personified Ricardo, fashioning a Lowell institution that welcomed visitors, locals, politicians and big shots — in essence creating Lowell’s most recent embodiment of Tammany Hall.

Both restaurants have since shuttered, going the way of so many these days while the divide swells between fine dining and corporate fast-food options. Ever-mounting costs, competition and legislation have driven greater risk and shrinking returns, often rendering it no longer worth the (already) arduous grind for small independents — the original lifeblood of the hospitality industry.

In its heyday, as you approached Ricardo’s from the street on a hot summer wind, you likely would have heard the sounds of a sultry jazz trio woven within the joyous din of bustle and busy wafting through the open door. Dick, er, Ricardo was not big on AC. He masterfully curated authentic Italian in all its steamy romanticism, despite any complaints. Yelp this. His place, his rules.

Upon entering, you might have noticed the many awards and pictures of celebrity guests hanging on the wall behind the man himself, standing at the small host stand, chin down toward his reservation sheet, almost suspiciously peeking at you over the top of his glasses.

On many a night, Ricardo’s had the air of Rat Pack cronyism — but instead of Frank, Dean and Sammy you might get a friendly wink from Tommy, Terry and Leo. Or Johnny, Andy and TJ. Popular Lowell trios abounded at Ricardo’s back in the day!

A Lowell native, impassioned community member and opinionated political enthusiast, Dick, er, Ricardo had many fans, but also his fair share of critics.

Take it from one who resembles both Dick and Ricardo in this regard — you don’t successfully stay in this business for that long, dealing with the trials presented by a million guests, employees, vendors and local officials in a gritty and economically challenged city, without ruffling a feather or two!

In a business that demands limitless energy, patience, vigilance, passion and perhaps a loose screw or two, neither day-to-day Dick, nor Trattoria Ricardo, was ever shy about voicing his opinion or showing his fire. An avid fan of all things Italian and a devout oenophile —always with a sample of the latest and greatest wine discovery — he was a grand storyteller and passionate host. One moment admonishing an employee from across the room, the next he’d be narrating a tale with the sparkle of a freshly uncorked prosecco. I’ll never forget the time I mentioned an impending trip to Italy while swirling my recommended amarone — its personality as big as my host’s — when Dick, er, Ricardo set to detailing miles of the Amalfi coast on a cocktail napkin, complete with train routes and recommendations of favorite hamlets and vineyards. I carried his zeal along on that unforgettable trip.

Ricardo finally decided this summer that it was time to enjoy just being Dick again. Surely proud of his great legacy, my friend grew weary of that endless battle to remain viable and (mostly) welcoming to both staff and guests.

“For what is a man, what has he got? If not himself, then he has naught. To say the things he truly feels. And not the words of one who kneels. The record shows …”

If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere.

Arrivederci, Ricardo. Your incredible spirit will surely be missed.

Scott Plath, along with his wife Kathleen, owns Cobblestones of Lowell and moonstones, in Chelmsford, Mass. Scott possesses a deep well of humorous and insightful stories, which can be found here on our website.

From the Kitchen – Trends Come and Go

August 25, 2017 by Scott Plath Leave a Comment

While recently attending the National Restaurant Association’s annual exposition at Chicago’s grandiose McCormick Place, I was excited and daunted to see many industry trends emerging.

I tend to think of trends as surges in popularity for items or ideas. Food trucks. Twitter. Once upon a time, mozzarella sticks. And stuffed sole.

When a thing fades nearly away, I think of it as a fad. Pet Rock. Fondue.

And when something has legs, be it gaining or waning in popularity, I’m not sure of the definition. Perhaps, simply, a thing. My daughter’s fond of saying, “It’s a thing.” (Conversely, HBO’s snarky talk show comedian John Oliver asks often, “How is this still a thing?”)

He might ask that about Slinkys, as I bought one recently as an antidote to my squirrel vs. birdfeeder conundrum. I saw on YouTube — once a trend, now a thing — that a Slinky hung from the pole will abate climbing-squirrel thievery. To my chagrin, it’s so not true. I digress.

Being quasi-obsessed with trends, my attention is generally more attuned to restaurants. And passionately toward menu evolution. For instance, as food delivery grows in demand, so does cook-and-hold oven technology and to-go food packaging innovation. Likewise, in response to a greater call for sustainability, the plethora of products at this year’s show that spoke to recycled and biodegradable initiatives, plant-based proteins and energy-saving technologies, was staggering.

The creativity that abounds within my industry is mind-boggling — whether it’s the endless emergence of things anew or the ongoing rebirth of the known. Throughout my career, I have tracked trends and struggled over whether it was wise to engage, or avoid.

Menu writing is an art form. At its best, it is designed to harmoniously address so many issues beyond the whimsy of the creative. Proper cost, price and portion represent an omnipresent balancing act. Seasonality and perishability are juxtaposed with decisions to produce in house or contract with those who do it best — smoking fish, baking bread, making pasta and the like.

Above all, and often in sacrifice to preferences that a chef or restaurateur may be passionate for, our offerings clearly must resonate with our guests. No guests, no good. Herein lies one of the greatest challenges — satisfying the widely disparate desires of those who pay our bills, especially as new dining trends emerge. Should we focus on global influence or locally sourced? Gluten free? Spicy? Low fat or low carbs? GMO or no? Organic or affordable? As societal trends have evolved around me over the past decade, I’ve been constantly confronted to strike the greatest chord — without compromising those who “brought us to the dance.” What’s old is comforting. What’s new is exciting, and potentially a long-term staple. And buzz-worthy. What stays and what goes? Remaining ahead of the curve on the menu, on issues of technology, on employee retention and with social media is all exciting. But to quote Steve Miller: “It just keeps getting tougher every day.”

Some changes are easy — butter to margarine to oil-butter blends. Now, as “wholesome” re-emerges, it’s back to butter! What’s old often circles back. We adjust. Other times we stand firm that something is right, or wrong — for one reason or another. We struggle to accurately value the high cost of using OpenTable for guest reservation convenience vs. changing to the new, more affordable and trending app, while we dismiss “carrot foam” outright.

I like to tell the story of how, after opening Cobblestones in 1994, I discovered hummus where such exotic things first appear. Where the hip people go, among the vegetarians and the urbane. My first hummus happened at an organic café in NYC. Of course, it took time to catch on in Lowell as we removed it from the menu … several times! Now a top seller, it is ubiquitous in American dining — available in more flavors than the potato chip.

Other products struggle to gain a foothold. Acai is apparently poised to trend. Again. I recall maybe 10 years ago how this Amazonian “superfood” started to appear locally as juice. We added it to a margarita recipe at Moonstones — curating the best of both worlds! (“Curated” is trending. Listen for it!)

Since then, kale “happened.” And quinoa. We now see the emergence of farro, poke bowls and kombucha while society goes nuts over almonds.

The food show can make a head spin, like this year’s whirling cotton candy technology — sending streaming and wispy waves of spun sugar into the air — tamed by a samurai-like, paper-tube twirling Russian sales rep, handing out giant samples of pink bouffant. Its whimsy was reminiscent of cotton candy magic back when the circus was still a thing.

If you have discovered how to keep squirrels off your bird feeder, please email splath@moonstones110.com!

From the Kitchen – The Kitchen Unscripted

April 29, 2017 by Scott Plath Leave a Comment

It’s all fun and games for chefs on TV — Mario Batali’s chubby ponytail and metro Crocs, Guy Fieri and Anne Burrell competing for most ridiculous hair, and Gordon Ramsay screaming bloody insults, knowing that the cameras are protecting him from a reciprocal punch in the nose! In real kitchens — the sharp, hot, greasy ones — there’s no studio audience or quiet, practiced choreography. ( Editor’s note: This column originally appeared in the May/June 2013 issue of Merrimack Valley Magazine. )

In the wake of my last column, dedicated to our original chef at Cobblestones, I began contemplating the fate of the others who suffer our stress, and the never-ending toll it takes. Ed is now deceased at age 51, after years of sore feet, poor health and heavy drinking,

Don’t get me wrong, we don’t dodge bullets, or tightrope across bridges, or tunnel under tons of coal, risking the next CNN report of “trapped for days.”

But tell that to chef Brian B. and he just might flip you the (partial) bird. While chopping heads of innocuous iceberg for someone’s eventual “salad with no croutons and dressing on the side,” Brian became distracted. In that split second, he struck his chef’s knife down precisely where the first third of his middle finger once met the other two-thirds. In this real-life episode of “Chopped,” Brian and cookmate Mike hustled calmly out the door and toward the emergency room, finger packed in ice, in salad plastic wrap. Brian actually called “shotgun,” bloodied hand held above his head in that symbolic one finger salute.

Talk to Alan A, a chain-smoking, hard-drinking, grill stalwart who snickers about the day he was leaning over the fry-o-lator, his lighter sliding from his breast pocket. The ensuing explosion of 350-degree oil created a howl matched only by Phyllis the bartender — wife of Finn the fireman — who screamed on cue, “TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES,” as she rushed to rip the oil-drenched coat from his body. Alan’s smile favors one side these days, the unrelated result of a later stroke, suffered at work.

In the 12 years between Ed’s departure from Cobblestones, then Earth, many chefs tried to fill his mighty big shoes, the first arriving in actual size 13s. “Big Man” brought an impassioned, nasty kind of charm — until a year later, when he hit his knees in the office, sobbing a “no mas” mantra, an emotional diatribe for a new career, through streams of tears and snot. He then dabbled in real estate for a spell before returning to school.

Queue “Old Phil.” After claiming at the interview to be a nondrinker, he would leave between lunch and dinner daily and return with a purple-lipped appetite for busgirls. Exit stage left. (Last I heard, he visited the reception after serving a wedding banquet and stumbled drunkenly into the band, taking out the drum set!) Bada-bum. (I don’t make this shit up.)

Old Phil was replaced by a cocky “boy wonder” — in hindsight, too young and too cocky. This one found relaxation between lunch and dinner by “baking” … with the wrong type of “herb.” He “moved on” to open his own restaurant, got “weeded,” closed shop and changed careers.

Then there was the never-to-be Fat Jerry, who actually showed up for his interview wearing chef whites — with all the right answers. We found out from our own “private eye” — moments before we handed over $5,000 in relocation expenses — that he’d just been released from prison after serving three years on a fraud charge! Apparently, being a real chef is harder than doing time.

Five years after chef Ed, we hired a talented, calm, dependable and “clean living” chef for the next six years. That is, until we opened Moonstones, our second property, and the GM found him one day curled on the floor, muttering over and over: “I can’t do it anymore.” (This, months before the same GM was found by paramedics on the same floor, clutching the phone, in the midst of a panic attack.) Both have since opted for alternative careers.

The next chef kept a bottle of vodka hidden inside the walk-in refrigerator. ’Nuff said.

Clearly we were thrilled nearly two years ago when we landed chef Rob Jean — a most brilliant culinarian with professionalism and great integrity — from Mistral and Sorellina in Boston. His menu development and training acumen has been remarkable since.

And not so thrilled when he recently complained of sore hips and aching feet — exclaiming: “I’m getting too old for this.” We all do, chef, we all do.

Ya know … maybe mining’s not that bad an option …

From the Kitchen – Cooking Matters

March 10, 2017 by Scott Plath Leave a Comment

In preparation for each column I write for this magazine, a concept (or three!) simmers in my head, the pressure mounting to both boil down the subject and bear down on its actual writing in order to submit by deadline.

And like clockwork, each January I find myself in an unfamiliar warm-weather destination, in the all-too-familiar territory of straying further from my original concept(s) as travel inspires and hyperactivity conspires to lead me down a different literary road. The egg timer rings and, true to form, my deadline gets nudged as we seek something closer to “well done.”

This one was no different.

My promise to the Massachusetts Restaurant Association landed me in Mexico — revered for its colorful and exotic culture. I should write about Mexican cuisine, I thought, resplendent in avocado and lime, corn tortillas, tacos and tamales, simmering pork and shimmering mole sauce made sexy-silky with chocolate, spices and a whole lotta love. ¡Olé hombres. Yo estaba amando a Mexico!

My first visit surely won’t be the last.

Dubbed the “midwinter meeting,” more than 30 board members and many spouses made the trip to “blend, mix, slice and dice” the issues that are most current and concerning for our industry. Ironically, my last column dealt with some of those issues in a rare jumping of my personal rail, as I railed political. Not because I woke up one morning and thought, hey, maybe this can be fun, all that close-minded discourse. Rather, I was compelled to offer an insider’s view on the legislative siege that continues to threaten small businesses. I paid a price for that one by ignoring an editor’s suggestion that I might ruffle some hardcore left-wing feathers. His warning rang true as readers called me an “insensitive jerk” (often true), the “R” word (generally so not right) and a whiny “snowflake” (perhaps the nicest name I have ever been called, although I am certain this impassioned fellow was not referencing my pure and whimsical nature!). Dude vowed to boycott our restaurants.

Ima steer clear of politics hereon. Risking business is bad business and extremely unfair to my incredible staffs when I offend, intentions aside. (And a career in writing doesn’t hold enough promise; drinking rare mezcal ain’t cheap!) I digress.

On our second night in Mexico, beneath the smile of a moon, my column’s focus would simmer again. While palming a half glass of oak-aged local añejo, served aside a fresh-squeezed orange juice chaser with a ground worm-salt rim, previous concepts seemed a world away — of portraying the dynamic world of the kitchen expediter; the essential liaison between cook and customer; or examining whether “the millennial workplace ethic is an actual thing,” as challenged by one of my contemplative and ornery daughters!

Instead, my attention turned to vibrant guacamole topped with crisp-fried grasshoppers, chuckling internally while wondering why the adjective “authentic” is applied almost universally to Mexican restaurants only. Am I wrong? For actual authenticity, we hopped on over to the bayside deck at Porfirio’s, and I can tell you that grasshoppers do NOT taste like chicken. Their earthen and umami nature reminded me more of a toothsome version of a shiitake mushroom.

I could not wait to tell TripAdvisor all about this great restaurant … so much fun that we visited again the same week for the endless hospitality, tequila and mariachi! New prose began to formulate as, unexpectedly, Cancún emerged as a bastion of exemplary service — with omnipresent grace and attention to details — like we had never witnessed. Kathy and I shared these observations and our table with good friends, the owners of the incredibly successful Turner’s Seafood restaurants. Jim Turner repeatedly shook his head in awe and philosophical recognition: “It’s these three things: attentiveness, friendliness and knowledge” that make all the difference. We noted further that when food is problematic, it often can be corrected. But in the artful execution of these service standards, good food will often be perceived as great, no corrections necessary. Such service is regularly elusive and undervalued. And here we were, a multitude of restaurant operators being schooled south of the border! ¡Salud!

During our early-morning board meeting, experiencing some afterglow on the heels of the previous night’s social event, my sleepy, still-spinning writer’s mind circled back around to all the incredible work the MRA does — as the topic at hand was the more than $100,000 in culinary scholarships awarded each year by the educational foundation. I marveled at that number while future fundraising events were being announced and discussed … then I drifted …

I heard my name. Wait, what?

That too familiar feeling from back in school, when the teacher knew you weren’t paying attention, and suddenly directed a question your way. Busted.

“In addition, we have added two more restaurants to this year’s initiative …”

Aha. Cooking Matters. We had moved on to discussing our 2-year-young partnership with Share Our Strength — the national organization committed to feeding and educating at-risk children — while announcing the list of participating restaurants.

Involving a multitude of commonwealth volunteer chefs and staff members, this year’s goal is to eclipse last year’s effort and top $100,000, with 100 percent of the proceeds to serve hungry families in Massachusetts.

Boom. Now THAT is what I need to be writing about!

Dear readers,

Please join us in creating a recipe for success on Monday night, March 27, when many restaurants statewide will hold exclusive multicourse dinners, featuring the best and most compassionate chefs in Massachusetts … on behalf of children.

Details on attendance or sponsorship to be found @
www.cobblestonesoflowell.com
cookingmatters.org

From the Kitchen – Is Survival on the Menu?

January 14, 2017 by Scott Plath Leave a Comment

What’s new? A question often asked rhetorically can be a loaded one.

I cringe at the response: “(Big sigh.) Well, I’ll tell you …” I’m sure we all know some literal folks we won’t ask without having the time to listen: “Well, I was just shopping, got some lovely vegetables, I changed detergents, and did you know poor Betty has sciatica …”

On the flip side — and I get asked almost daily — I often have to bite my own lip and give that common one-word Lowell response, “Goodnyou?” while resisting the omnipresent rant.

Not today. The restaurant industry “is under siege” — as characterized by Bob Luz, president and CEO of the Massachusetts Restaurant Association. My lifelong pursuit is being challenged like never before in the 40 years I’ve been scraping plates into the trash, and many of us are very concerned.

You may have noticed that for the first time in history, meals eaten outside the home have topped 50 percent, or how often a new restaurant pops up. These related realities would seem like good news — surely for the more than 300,000 Massachusetts folks who earn in our industry, 10 percent of the state workforce. So, what’s the problem?

This column is not long enough to properly detail the profuse factors that will be changing the landscape of this great business without sounding like I am whining. But change is imminent. It is already squeezing operators and small businesses, threatening opportunities and benefits that are important to our employees, and ultimately it will be affecting our guests. The big shame is that many changes are being driven by self-interested “outside influences” who pose as champions of employees’ rights — organizers who pay huge dollars for negative publicity and protestors to manipulate a well-intentioned liberal media and the voters, both of which intend to advocate for the workers. This current manipulation paints us as exploiters, and the subsequent legislation by folks who truly do not understand our business will be fostering an unsustainable business model.

As an industry, we are accustomed to the ongoing additional expense of legislative change relative to safety, licensing, insurance, “affordable” health care and employee benefits. I also personally agree that the minimum wage needs to rise —incrementally — as entry-level staff must be able to afford life before ascending to greater opportunity.

With that said, endless legislation has adversely promoted laziness and entitlement for years.

Mandated server minimum wage increases for the already highest earners will likewise drive all wages higher, along with menu prices. Add to that the overtime and tip pool legislation that has “… made it impossible for tipped employees to take on an apprentice roll in management,” according to Massachusetts restaurateur Jeff Gates, a member of the National Restaurant Association’s board of directors. “It has really trapped [many] in the role of server. Very sad.”

The next assault on our collective horizon is mandated scheduling regulations and mandated pay for all schedule changes. What happens if we have to pay staff who are required to be scheduled weeks in advance — even if a blizzard blows through town … it rains on the patio all day … the large group cancels two days before? Say goodbye to staff-friendly flexibility in scheduling, one of the greatest benefits for our employees. Or to costly table service. What’s next? Such burdens will ultimately result in other costs, such as the continued manipulation of our food supply, and in even more unemployed and unmotivated as jobs are cut.

In my first “real” job, at age 13, I was allowed to work past 8 p.m. as both a busboy and a dishwasher. I mostly made tips for my pay. No one seemed to mind. Over the next many years in the kitchen, the chefs verbally abused me. They called me “Skata,” which I found out later is, um, not Greek affection for “Scott,” but far less flattering!

Schedule me, abuse me, welcome me back. “Opa Skata!”

I loved it all. I couldn’t wait for the next opportunity, the next recognition and pay increase. Labor board hear my cry: I was OK. I survived, and thrived. This was a long time ago, but cost saving was a precious necessity then, too. The lights were turned off between lunch and dinner, perfect for weekend double shifts, when staff sometimes napped in the booths. I loved the exhaustion and the relative reward for working so hard, both financial and, as importantly, intrinsic, a waning value. When there was downtime, we dusted, Windexed and cleaned the entranceway ashtrays. “Cleaners cost money,” one of the owners would wink. “If you have time to lean, you have time to clean.” We got it. We would make great money when the guests arrived. That’s the model.

For years to come, I excelled outside of work while developing skills that would sustain me financially through college and beyond. As a young father, I ultimately benefited from flexible hours that allowed for the offset of child care as I strived for ownership.

Our industry has evolved since back then — when hummus was an exotic food — as we constantly progress new ways to remain viable while more safe, sanitary and humane. I champion all that. Yet, profitability remains an oft-elusive state in the biz, our precarious profit margin an occupational hazard, our failure rate well chronicled. Well beyond staff dusters, we have always been an industrious lot. We represent some of society’s most creative (or desperate!) minds, finding angles while creating trends. How else do you think kale becomes an iconic vegetable and “industrial chic” becomes a ubiquitous design — with all the sex appeal of iron piping and reclaimed barnwood! We. Are. Good.

In steakhouses, side dishes are priced high to compensate for the margin sacrificed by the ever-increasing cost of beef and seafood. And when is “salad included” anymore? (We miss you, Hilltop!) I remember when this was the role of draft beer before it morphed to craft beer, now multiple times the cost per keg. I am sure brewers face many of our same challenges. As luxuries like free bread and linens become less common, protein portions shrink, masked in rice bowls, pasta and burritos. Styrofoam, wings, plastic, steak tips, pesticides, farmed fish, hormone produced “jumbo” chicken breasts and factory farming, smaller glasses, short ribs, repurposed … and kale: a brief history of remaining viable.

We find a way.

But it feels now, according to an industry leader I know, “like we have four fingers in the dike.” Legislatively, we are eliminating creativity, soul and “from-the-ground-up” opportunity from our environment. And when a burger and a beer are ultimately forced to exceed $20, even in places where aioli is still called mayonnaise, we will all lose guests. When I asked Mr. Luz how we will respond as an industry, his answer was predictable: “Ongoing and proactively.” It’s what we do. I only fear that we are running out of fingers!

How does a romantic dinner buffet at your local supermarket sound? I hear you can even order a glass of wine these days. Maybe I’ll see you there.

“(Big sigh.) I hear that cheap wine is good for my sciatica …”

Seriously… What collective level of aspiration is inspired by promoting a 40 hour work week!

Little Town Blues

From the Kitchen – Trends Come and Go

From the Kitchen – The Kitchen Unscripted

From the Kitchen – Is Survival on the Menu?

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