Jim Britt's life revolves around food, chef-prepared or from his own kitchen. Beyond the blog, Jim is a partner a gBritt PR in Portland, which specializes in lifestyle public relations.
November 2007
November 23, 2007
Thanks for Giving
I spent Thanksgiving day in Denver with family this year. The meal was wonderful. Spending time with family that I see once every other year or so was even more wonderful. This Thanksgiving, it wasn't just the environment and faces that were different, so was my outlook on hunger.
I am part of Share Our Strength in Maine. We are an all volunteer group who raises money through culinary events. 80% of the funds we raise is donated to organizations in Maine who are dedicated to helping children suffering from hunger and hunger-related issues. The balance of our funds support national and international hunger relief efforts.
I spent some time on the phone this week talking with the Share Our Strength folks in Denver and learned a lot about childhood hunger in Colorado, which as it turns out is very similar to Maine.
In Colorado one in 33 households experiences hunger. One in five children under twelve are hungry or at risk of malnutrition. This equates to roughly 165,000 children.
In Maine, over 40% of children under twleve show evidence of hunger. That equates to more than 19,000 children. An additional 64,000 Maine children are at risk of hunger. (10% of Maine households, representing 141,000 people, experience food insecurity. )
Globally, children living in households which experienced hunger or the risk of hunger are more likely to experience health or school-related problems. Obviously it's a terrible issue, no matter where you are.
The point of this blog is not just to remind you of these statistics, it is to invite you to help. Share Our Strength needs volunteers -- we need more good people with open minds and hearts. Share Our Strength is just one way to help. There are many organizations in Maine that make a big impact. If you're curious about ways that you can pitch in you can reach out to me. I'd be happy to tell you about SOS and the other orgs in Maine that I know of. Or you can use this site -- http://www.volunteermatch.org.
I think it's safe to say that helping others is addictive. It made my Thanksgiving truly thankful and also was a time to reflect. I hope yours was wonderful, too.
Cheers.
Hello my name is Jim, and I will be your blogger today
We waited for about forty minutes for our single order of mussels at Local 188, but they never came. We finished our cocktails, asked our server to stop the order and bring us our check. She didn’t apologize for the delay, which didn’t surprise us. She’d shown little to no emotion about our presence since we’d been seated. Our martinis were fine and experiencing the ambiance of the new Local 188, which is why we came in the first place, was more than enough to make up for a botched order.
We laughed to each other about the server’s ambivalence. Then I looked into the kitchen, which is much larger than the last. It didn’t surprise me to see Jay, the owner, at the helm. In fact it was comforting. What did surprise me was the size of his line team. He was flanked by two assistants. I tried to calculate how many tables he’d added to his new location. Maybe twenty more – this is more than a one hundred percent increase in the number of guests being served at any one time. Maybe it was just an off night – perhaps some line staff had called off. And maybe our server had had a bad day. But I don’t know. Even on my worst days I’d never treat a customer poorly. Of course that’s just me. Then again I have a ton of restaurant experience and I’ve never met an owner who’d let a server or cook's bad day get in the way of taking care of business. I love Local 188. I am going back soon. I just hope it’s not a repeat of what we just experienced.
Hello my name is Jim, and I will be your blogger today.
Being a server is hard work. Really hard work. But you can not take it out on your customer. Let’s face it, you and I both know that all it takes is one bad round of service to write off a restaurant. In a city like Portland, which has more restaurant depth than cities twice its size, it’s easy to find replacements.
I read an article some time ago by a person who hated service that starts with “hi guys, my name is X, and I will be your server today.” OK, here's how I see it. If you’re affected by how a server introduces themselves, you have a problem. I mean, how can you let that bother you. I happily invite servers to tell their name (or grab those crayons and scribble for me on the tabletop in that trademark smiley face cursive). All I ask is that every server be polite, attentive and appreciative. In all seriousness, when that server introduces themselves, they’re conveying that they intend to make our dining experience enjoyable. They’re engaging us with a positive tone. When they check back to se how we are doing, they’re taking care of us. And it’s nice to get treated so well.
I think back to my years as a server. Spending time in the weeds probably took years off of my life. Seriously, in the thick of it, it was stressful and sometimes when I was treaded badly by a customer, it was demoralizing. I learned a lot about taking care of customers when I was a server. And man did I learn how to read people.
We weren’t rude to our server at 188. She could sense our frustration, but we couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Maybe that’s a good thing. She probably thought we were impatient jerks. But, we were just there for cocktail and a look at Jay’s new home. The mussels were an afterthought. The look and feel of Local 188 is incredible; you have to check it out.
Thank you and come again!
Eating Normal
I recently pitched a food related story idea to a local writer that got rebuffed right away. I picked a bad day to call. I heard a lot about pending vacations and deadlines and then I was offered a criticism of our area's fine dining restaurants. It ended with a complex little question; “where do normal people eat?”
This question has stuck with me. I’ve thought about this a lot. The actual question, I think, was "Where do normal people (who can't afford fine dining) eat?" I guess I was offended by it, to some degree. To flesh it out I recently made it a topic of conversation with friends at a dinner gathering – keeping names out of it, for obvious reasons. The answer from everyone in the group was the same – we are the "normals," we love eating out, we do it often, and we eat, well, everywhere.
It’s true, normals are everywhere. For example I sat next some normals at Becky’s in Portland two weeks ago. Then I ran into some normals at FRESH in South Portland a few days later. Friday night I sat with normals at the Browne Trading Company and Eve’s at the Garden (a gBritt client) caviar dinner. There were a thousand or so normals standing patiently for concessions during the Cape Elizabeth Vs Mountain Valley football game. Then, unbelievably, I saw normals at Vignola eating one of the best looking pizzas I have ever seen. Of course these are just nearby encounters with normals. Maybe folks living west of me are abnormal – wrong. Guess what I saw when I stopped for a bite at Sierra’a in Gorham, normals. Damn normals. Seems you can’t turn around without running into one.
It seems that a better question is where do abnormals eat out? That’s the place I want to experience. They’re not at Fore Street in Portland, it’s filled with normals. You won’t find them at Bray's Brewpub in Naples, that's where all the cool normals go.
My point is pretty obvious, right? We, the normals, eat at at fine dining restaurants -- possibly a splurge to celebrate a birthday or anniversary, etc. We also eat at quick serve joints, chains, mom-and-pops, etc. Normals eat meals made outside of the home every week, about twice or more, in fact. I looked at restaurant.org to check it. (Another interesting statistic from restaurant.org is that nearly half of us have worked in the restaurant industry at some time during our lives. Hmm, explains a lot.)
For me, eating normal means enjoying dinner with Gillian at our favorite place -- and you'll probably find white linen on the table. When we take our kids out for lunch or dinner, we usually choose places featuring bench décor. Normal, right? Not for our kids; they still think it's special. And making it special is what a meal eaten outside of the home with loved ones is all about. At least that's the way this normal sees it.
Cheers
Camp Master Carmen's Campsite Delight
I had one of the best meals of my life last weekend just outside State College, PA. I traveled to State College to watch Ohio State bury Penn State on Saturday night. (Sorry Brian) It turns out the real sports event happened on Friday night -- the campsite cooking challenge. My friend Carmen, like the Buckeyes, came through like a champion (Sorry again Brian!). It may have been, quite honestly, the best meal of my life.
We camped at Bald Eagle State Park. We pulled into the campsite around 3PM, in pouring rain. As other campers arrived, pulling their trailer RVs, our humble tarp began to feel smaller and smaller. I thought we were in for a long, cold night. Instead, when Chef Carmen pulled out a wine box filled with exquisite selections from his cellar, the rain began to slow. A little while later, when some stellar cheeses appeared, the clouds began to part. By the time Carmen began cutting fresh peppers, onions, tomatoes, for his fresh minestrone, the sun was shining. It was actually eight o'clock by this point, but you know what I mean -- this was shaping up to be a campsite meal to remember.
First Course
Greens washed with rain water, tossed with garlic vinaigrette, paired with Rioja.
Palate cleanser
A short Absolut on the rocks with grapes and cheese
Second Course
Campsite “minestrone” -- red wine, onions, garbanzo beans, greens, zucchini, carrots, olives. This was without a doubt, the best tasting soup I have ever eaten. (Of course, it was windy, pouring rain and thirty eight degrees.) Carmen paired his soup with a fabulous Cabernet. The soup was rich, thick and delicious. The wine was equally rich, smoky and oaky.
Main Course
Tilapia filets, cooked over high heat, tossed with fresh cut garlic, tomatoes and onions. I was leery of this dish because the tilapia came out of a vacuum sealed package bought in Ohio. I was wrong. The aroma of this dish caused a few of our neighbors to come out of their RVs, mouths watering, to see what was happening at the thrown together campsite next door. The one with the flapping blue tarp.
It was ten by now. We were full. Thankfully the tilapia cooked slowly. When it was ready, so were we. Each bite was better than the last. I am not kidding. The fish was delicate; the garlic and tomato broth was nectar. In the rain and cold of State College, PA, Chef Carmen's tilapia was beyond delicious.
And, there was dessert.
Illy espressos, topped with Redi Whip. When I saw the whip, I thought Carmen was about to drag down his meal’s quality. I was wrong. The whip was like ice cream floating on the rich black espresso.
I take back anything bad I’ve ever said about you Carmen. You are in fact the camping master you claim to be. You know I know all of your secrets. At least I thought I did.
Cheers. Go Bucks!
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