aGreatChef.com Blog – Food Blog of Chef Robert Conaway

It’s sometimes funny how things, memories seem to pop up in your head for no apparent reason. On a not-so-sunny day here in San Diego and in the midst of creating SOP’s (standard operating procedures) for the kitchen in my wine storage slash office my mind wandered a bit (a break?) and began thinking about traveling. I have my external hard drive here with me which has images from the last 9 years on it and somehow I found the above photo and some others during my time in NY opening up the Italian bistro.

Maybe it is because I am wearing my wool pea coat to keep warm in the office that out of all the places I have been I picked my time in New York to reminisce about. I would like to think that I have chosen this because of the great time I had there, but I am thinking that my numb fingertips are the reason why.

I remember getting that call on a sunny and warm San Diego day from Kevin, my lead server in San Francisco who had not only moved to San Diego but then decided to take a position as GM of an upscale Italian bistro in New York’s Hudson Valley. First he asked me what I was doing, then that he needed a chef to open the bistro up. We had chatted about this over a few drinks before he left, so it wasn’t a total surprise that he was calling. What did wake me from a post lunch food coma was when he wanted me to come out. “3 days” is what he said.

I love challenges, especially ones that lean towards the verge of being impossible. My response was a characteristic laugh and “no really, when do you need me”. He reiterated 3 days. With my mental processes now running at 70% or so, I told him I could not be there in such a short time frame, but could be there in a weeks time. The jubilation in his voice is something that I will never forget, and them came the bomb, we NEED to be open on Saturday night for dinner.

Saturday night, are you friggin kidding me! My arrival date was Wednesday early morning (red eye) into NYC, then there would be the travel time to the Hudson Valley and my jet lag meant that Wednesday was a wash, so I would get into the kitchen Thursday morning. That’s two and a half days to train a staff I have yet to meet and ascertain their cooking style and levels of competence as well as produce all of the food and base recipes from scratch. What the heck, I tell Kevin I’ll see him on Wednesday morning at the airport…

I spent the better part of my JetBlue red eye flight working on my old Palm jotting down menu ideas. Pastas, pizzas, gnocci, desserts start rolling out of my head and into my fingers, pushing the keys in the qwerty keyboard ever so frantically. Sleep, got some but not really enough with the planeload of highschoolers going to NYC for the first time. Trying to sleep on a plane is a talent most do not possess, sleeping while surrounded by 17 year olds high on going somewhere without their parents for the first time is next to impossible. Nice flight and by the end I had enough ideas to get the ball rolling and open this place up. Now to find my ride through the city and upstate.

Kevin and Josie roll up in the light rain in a Honda Element. Great to see the both of them, smiling faces and stories of what I was getting into took up most of the ride from the city. The restaurant was housed in a 18th century brothel that was haunted, so say the locals. Now I am not one who falls for superstition and all that ghost cr@p, but I got an eerie feeling when pulled up to the building. Sensing that something was amiss, we entered the building and met the owner. After chatting a bit I was asked if I wanted to see the kitchen, which had been in the back of my mind since arriving at the airport.

New kitchens are like a huge birthday present when you are 5 years old, chefs get all excited and warm inside with the anticipation of seeing a new, shiny kitchen untouched by anyone other than construction workers. My excitement level was running on overload and I replied “yes, of course”. We walked through the dining room while construction workers hurriedly pounded nails and ripped plywood sheets with their saws. As I turned the corner and walked up the short set of steps my kitchen unfolded before my eyes,

Image taken on Wednesday,12 Aug 2004 at 5:41 pm…2 days, 22 hours and 19 minutes from opening. My belief in ghosts evaporated a quickly as tequila from a shot glass. Here I stood, with a kitchen that is days away from being complete, unable to fry an egg let along start prepping the from scratch menu for the grand opening. I looked at Kevin and just had to laugh…someone kill me please.

chefRob