Yesterday morning I noticed the sunlight has the beautiful look of fall. This particular season should be fun. It's my favorite time of year for cooking, our new sous has lots of good ideas and we're going to start working on the menu after we return from SF.

It's such a joy to have someone in the kitchen who wants to cook for a living, who is excited about cooking. Only our opening sous chef had any passion for cooking and that was drummed out of him by the CIA. The other kitchen people right now are good workers, and have on occasion shown some creative initiative, but being in the kitchen isn't what they really want to do.

So, the fires are burning and the mind is churning.

I've hired a new sous or perhaps chef de cuisine. He's young, easy-going, lots of ideas and has a girlfriend who is a chef also. So far he's very helpful with the staff giving encouragement, helping when they;re behind, telling the bussers they're doing a good job. All good.

The only thing thus far, is that when I was cutting a pork loin the other day, he was paying close attention. He'd never dealt with any sub-primal cuts, only had things come in that were portioned. So, we'll have to watch the butchery skills.

If he does well on ordering, and brings some new perspective to the kitchen I'll be happy. Plus, we've already seen an increase in the younger crowd because word is out he;s with us.

We just returned from a few days dining in SF and were reminded how much difference a caring managerial presence makes.

At Citizen Cake, the absence of their former manager was noticeable throughout the dining room. We asked after her when the meal was over and was told that she was moving to the East Coast and was waiting tables somewhere else but our waiter wasn't sure where. The service we experienced wasn't horrendous, just sloppy and neglectful. Chatting with co-workers rather than attending to the tables, and a return of the attitude that almost kept us from returning quite some time ago.

For our last meal we decided to try A16. In contrast, they were extremely welcoming, helpful with The Sardine, and as we were being taken to our table we saw the former Citizen Cake manager. She was waiting there until her move to Charleston, SC, later this year. When we told her about our experience at her former digs, she said "I hate to hear that. That kills me." She was also quick to point out that it wasn't just her, that lot of people left at the same time, and that the whole team is responsible for the experience.

Presence on the floor is crucial. How to get others to maintain that presence when the owner is gone or the manager is absent is the Holy Grail of the restaurateur.

This summer I've had a problem with cooks overcooking meat and fish. Actually, one in particular. After spending time with him in the kitchen I understood that part of the reason is that he likes his own food well done. The GM, who also likes things well done, suggested printing pictures. So I found some decent pictures of steak cross sections, along with temperatures, which seem to have worked out.

The fish is another problem. I just have to keep working with this person, telling him "We can always cook it more, never less." It's tough for him I know, because I also am adamant that the food come up quickly when it's been fired, so timing can be difficult.

Training and motivating staff is one of the biggest issues most restaurants, particularly those outside of metropolitan areas face. Once you get out of the city, finding kitchen staff that actually are interested in cooking is difficult. Most kitchens are staffed by people who, while they might have achieved some technical proficiency because they have done it long enough, don't have the spark of a committed cook. I suppose most businesses period, are staffed by people who are working only because they have to, and while they might be decent at their job, don't have a real passion for what they're doing.

Apart from The Sardine, whose continuing development and adventures are keeping me endlessly occupied, I haven't written because I've been on the other side of the counter for a long time. Just relating to customers every night is taxing for me, and though I can do it, it's not my strength. Plus, there's less to write about, except for the occasional insane person who does their best to make me insane as well. I'm more interested in food and cooking.

(Un)Fortunately, I've been back in the kitchen lately. A series of very unfortunate events, none directly involving me, has befallen some of my kitchen crew and we've had quite a shake-up. Consequently, I've been working the line. I love and hate it. I love doing it, I love the action and the satisfaction from a job well done. I hate that I have to do it in these circumstances. It does feel good to be using those skills though.

We just hired someone that I am hoping will be a good fit, either sous chef or chef de cuisine. We'll see how he works out. He's been the chef of a larger operation locally and has experience with volume. I wasn't impressed with the other place, but I know he was operating under a lot of management strictures and I'll be interested to see what he can do in a freer, saner environment. At the very least, he should be able to free me from ordering, scheduling, and some of those tasks, so I can work on developing new things and techniques.

I had a classmate from culinary school visit recently. He works for Sodhexo, in a cook/chill facility for a university. We were talking about sous vide, which he does a lot of, and he said they don't actually pull a vacuum on anything. They just seal and cook in the bags, weighing them down with a cage. That alone opened up a lot of possibilities for my budget. I've wanted to do more sous vide, but haven't wanted to spring for the chamber vacuum sealer. Now, I just seal the things without the vacuum. I did a small wedding last weekend for 100 people and did the short ribs and chicken that way, as well as reheating the green beans and gnocchi in a water bath. Much easier to plate and clean-up.

So, I'm looking forward to more experimentation, and learning new things.

Lat week we were swamped on Saturday night. The kitchen was a little behind but not terribly so. We had a couple in, the guy had previously been a frequent customer while in the area looking for property. As sometimes happens, he had built us up to his date and it took a little while for his entrees to arrive.

When he left he was really upset, not just because of the delay, but because his waiter told him, "well, you did take quite a while to decide and place your order," rather than just apologizing. He did take a long time to order, and it didn't take that long for him to get his food, so in that sense she was correct.  She thought he might understand his role in the situation and leave a little happier. I told her in those circumstances to just apologize and don't try to educate. I told her I sometimes try to do it and it nearly always backfires on me. She ended up really upset and spent much of the rest of the night, bawling and red-eyed in the back.

Tonight as I bring a table their bill, the woman tells me, "I didn't want to put this in writing, because I didn't want it to reflect poorly on our waiter, who was great, but it took too long for the entrees. It took an hour for our entrees." I said, "I'm really sorry. I'm the owner, it won't reflect poorly on your waiter. Thank you for giving me the information."

Curious, I took a look at the ticket. They had reservations for 6:30. They arrived at 6:38. I only know this because when they arrived I happened to glance at the clock. Their order was put in the computer at 6:56. It was 8:10 when I looked this information up. To my mind, getting appetizers, entrees, desserts and having your bill paid in an hour and fifteen minutes, is not only reasonable, but actually pretty damn fast.

So what do I do? I go back to the table and say, "So, I just looked at the order and it went into the computer at 6:55. It's 8:10 now." She said, "No, we got here at 6:30." "Hmm, well the order didn't get into the computer until 6:55. I'm not sure how that happened" She huffed, "I'm sure it's our fault." "I'm not trying to lay blame. I'm just trying to figure out how we can improve. Again, my apologies."

Stuff like this pisses me off. Why do people figure their dining experience from the time of reservation? If you arrive on time, with a complete party, take your seats, and study the menu, you are going to spend at least ten minutes before you order. Now most people take longer than that, especially when they are visiting a place for the first time. There's a lot to take in, the decor, what you're in the mood for, what you're having to drink, having conversation with your companions.

What I really wanted to say was, "Get real! An hour and fifteen minutes is pretty fucking fast for you to be completely done with a three course meal for six."

Lord, Help me resist the urge to educate.

We're re-hiring someone in a couple weeks. This person has gone through phases of being a good employee and a not so good one. Some of the behaviors this person has exhibited are really questionable. Many of this person's co-workers complain about the behavior.

So why would we rehire?

First- training is expensive. It takes money away from the other employees to have extra people while a person is being trained. It's a drain on our time. Training takes a long time. The GM is better at it than I, and she's only there two days a week. That makes for an even longer training period.

Second- We believe there are life lessons to be learned in the workplace. Working through these behaviors is a lesson this person obviously needs to learn. How to deal with the behavior might be one we need to learn.

Third- We have learned over the years that our organization needs certain "types". These people serve roles at the restaurant, often ones we don't know we need. This person, along with one other, unfortunately fills the role of scapegoat. A safety valve for the other employees to release frustration. By pinpointing this person, correctly or not, they're a more cohesive team. A little sick, yes. But life is like that sometimes. When this person really gets sick of playing this role, they'll change enough to convince their co-workers.

It is no secret to anyone who used to read this blog that I have gone through a mighty unproductive slump. In truth, I've been adrift, both here and at work, sleepwalking in a sense. My role at the restaurant has shifted almost entirely to front of house and I have to say it's something I'm just not that good at.

I miss the adrenaline of cooking. I miss the daily application of skills I have been refining for years. I miss the kitchen.

We just put out our spring menu, and I spent the entire service in the kitchen for the first time in quite a while. It felt good and weird. I need to spend more time there.

I've got a tasting for a catering gig tomorrow. My goal for the coming year is to capture as much catering business as possible. In years past catering was something I did, but only for really agreeable people, who wanted to spend decent money. I didn't have the staff and nearly all the gigs here are in the middle of summer, when we're insanely busy anyway. Now though, I have a good stable of people who have worked for me in the past, who have straight jobs now, and they're available summer weekends. I've also got a tentative agreement with a friend who got out of the kitchen a while back and is ready to get back in on a limited basis.

What I have done in past years are tastings, mostly not trying to get the catering job, but trying for the rehearsal dinner business. The rehearsals are easy, smaller numbers, less on the line, people usually more agreeable, and I don't have to pack anything up or divert staff from the restaurant. I still want the rehearsals.

My problem is I've refined my pitch to not get the job and have done it for so many years, it's hard to shake. I need to get back to selling, and trying to actually get the business.

We're approaching a milestone anniversary, and we've asked customers to share favorite memories with us. We've been getting some fun ones. One of my favorites is this:

A few years ago we took our then 10 or 11 year old son Sam to your place to celebrate his birthday. He chose you over restaurants offering more kid-oriented fare such as pizza. It had for some time been one of our favorite restaurants for family meals because we liked the food and we could color on the tables. At this particular visit, however, our son had a particularly formative culinary experience. After receiving his order of fried chicken we noticed that he had gotten really quiet. We asked him if everything was okay and he said, with a dreamy look in his eye and a drumstick clutched in his fist, "don't talk- I just want to be alone with this". Later came his own chocolate XXXX, which he declared he wanted to marry.

I had a brief, but very nice conversation with folks from The Linkery down in San Diego. I asked them how things have changed since they've moved into larger quarters. Jay's response articulated what I had been searching for, in trying to describe the changes I'd been feeling at my own restaurant.

He said, "Now, everyone's a specialist at their job. Before we were all generalists." I realized this is where we're heading. And most importantly I need to become a specialist. I've been working toward this for a few months now, training others to take on some of the tasks I or the GM have been doing for many years.

I also realized I avoid training because I don't want to go through the six months of watching people stumble. Ten years down the road that six months doesn't seem so long.

There has to be a better way to serve large parties. I don't mean large like 2500 people at a convention center. I mean parties from 12-20 or so.

It's great people want to celebrate, or a work group wants to go out for a co-worker's birthday. We want them to come to us. We want them to have a good time. We also want to serve them graciously, efficiently, and leave them feeling they'd like to join us again.

The biggest impediment is that people insist that they be seated at one table. Let's face it, if you've got 15 people sitting down to dinner, people on one end of the table aren't talking to people on the other end. I understand the psychological value of all being together and at the table. I also understand that in certain circumstances there is a special guest and the need to all be at the table with that guest is important.

It's hard to get a large table to stop visiting and place an order. A table of 15 can easily take 30 minutes to order. Then the waiter has to input the order which takes a few more minutes. The kitchen takes a minute or two to decode the special requests and count all the items on the order and before you know it 45 minutes has gone by before the first guest to order gets an appetizer. So the guest thinks the restaurant has slow service.

We try to get people to sit at neighboring tables in smaller groups, explaining it really is for their comfort. Usually, the guests think we are being unaccomodating. Often, after they've agreed to the arrangement, they start moving the tables once they arrive so the tables are touching.

If we have a party of 14 or larger we ask they choose from a limited menu and again, the perception is we're being unaccomodating. We don't hold fast to this line, there are a number of variables; time of dining, season, whether we know the people, what the occasion is, etc.

Our dining room is large, and very inviting for large groups. They are a significant portion of our business and I'd like to better serve them. Any thoughts?

I have never understood making January 1st a holiday. In a nation allegedly dedicated to the ideal of improving your station in life through hard work, taking the first day of the year off seems perverse. Unless of course, the ideal is a standard other people are held to, not one you actually apply to yourself.

That said, I'm not working. Because it is my normal day off, not because we're closed. The GM is at the restaurant and The Sardine is sleeping. And I'm enjoying the quiet that comes with everyone else being hungover and closed.

I've had my fill of Hoppin' John. Last night we covered two sides of my heritage by serving lentil soup with pancetta and salami (for my half Italian blood-line), and sauteed halibut with Worcestershire butter sauce, scallion spoonbread and Hoppin' John (for my Southern childhood, with wry nods to my English/Welsh blood-line, my Northern Ca culinary sensibilites, and my Francophilia).

I started the day with more Hoppin' John. I resolve to be luckier this year.

2008, despite the recent financial meltdown was a good year for me personally, but not such a good one for blogging. I just needed a little time to do what the title of the song in the lyric I used for the headline says.

As for the year's end, I'm hoping the crash and subsequent repair of our keg fridges will be an omen of things to come. I knew the fridges had problems. The beer wouldn't pour properly. It was foamy and took a loooong time to draw a pint. The waiters sold little beer, and I don't blame them.

There are two parts of the keg beer equation. One is temperature, the other pressure. The Co2 pressure was correct, the box just wasn't cold enough.

Last night, the beer poured perfectly. The new compressor is working great. I'm not looking forward to the bill, but I'm glad the problem is fixed. Just like, hopefully, our nation.

"But Atticus, he's pouring sugar molasses* all over his dinner!", is what went through my mind when the couple asked for olive oil and balsamic vinegar for their bread. I don't get it. How did this start?

Olive oil I can (kind of) see. But not really. Bread acts like a sponge, soaking up way more oil than I really want to eat, unless you're really quick about dabbing the bread in the oil. You might as well drink a shot of olive oil.

Balsamic vinegar I can't see. Especially not the "balsamic" you are likely to encounter at 99% of restaurants. I don't have real balsamic on hand, and indeed have only tasted 100 year old balsamic twice in my life. Even restaurants that keep really great vinegar on hand are unlikely to pour it for a bread spread.

In the scene from"To Kill a Mockingbird" that I reference above Atticus lets Scout know that to comment on how or what people eat is rude, especially when, like Walter the sugar molasses pourer, they don't know any better. My role when I'm on the floor is to be Atticus. Inside though, Scout is hollering.

*Thanks meloukhia

The compressor for our keg refrigerator died. A fitting end to the year. Things tired and crapping out, needing an overhaul, but probably not until the new year.

I often forget machines need maintenance. I somehow think they're just supposed to work, forever, with no input or care from me. I forget less than I used to, and am no longer surprised when they break, or parts wear out. At least, on older machines. When a new Kitchen-Aid mixer starts popping springs after only a month or two, I get irritated.

My own machine needs some maintenance. A little oil at the joints, regular movement of all the parts, a little spit and polish wouldn't hurt. Ah, the stuff of New Year's resolutions. See you soon.

Years ago I told an old friend, "I just want to move to the country and make sausage." I've done that. And now I finally have a refrigerator dedicated to charcuterie.

I asked my refrigerator repairman to keep an eye out for a unit I could convert to sausage storing. I needed something with a relatively high temperature (50 degrees), that also stayed humid. When I first opened my restaurant I didn't understand refrigeration at all. I thought refrigerators put cold air into their boxes. Now I know that refrigerators actually remove heat, through their freon-filled coils, and release that heat into the air. I also know they generally remove humidity, making a cold, dry environment.

A couple of months ago, the repairman found the perfect unit. A meat case in great shape, owned by a charter boat company. They sold it to me for $100 and forklifted it into the truck. When I got it to the restaurant, I discovered it wouldn't fit through the office door. I had to remove the door frame, and line it up just right, to scrape it through. My office manager wrinkled her nose.

A few adjustments and it's holding a steady 50 degrees, and since it's a meat case, it has no fans and doesn't remove the humidity. Right now I've got two kinds of coppa hanging, sweet, and spicy. They'll be ready in the first week of November. Before leaving for a trip to SF Halloween week, I'll be making some salamis and pepperones.

It feels good to be making sausages again. I love the waiting, the idea that the payoff is weeks, or months away. If I time it right, I get to open (and give) presents all year long. Come get a gift.

On the beach last month. It seems worlds away.

One of our waiters is moving on. He's also an EMT and is going to school to become a paramedic. Last night was his last night and he presented us with a card, that lays it on a little thick, but I do believe the sentiment:

"Haddock & GM

Thank you to both of you for your wonderful leadership. You have created, and continue to promote a fantastic restaurant and work environment. I've worked for a lot of people, in very different settings, and I can honestly say I've never had the appreciation or respect that I've developed for the two of you. Your work ethics and attitudes filter down to all of us. You set clear expectations for us, treat us with all the fairness and respect in the world, and provide us with the tools and direction that we need to meet your expectations. The positive family aspect that you foster and exemplify is a breath of fresh air and I feel so lucky to have been a part of the XXXX family. You're wonderful people and you've managed to surround yourselves with wonderful people. Thank you for your fairness, your leadership, your respect, and caring. I've learned so much and I'll miss seeing you both. Thank you again. Love you both..."

"Tonight's soup is white bean with pesto."

"What's pesto?"