Entries tagged with 'Served'
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"How do you stay slim, married to a chef?" I hear all the time. First, Micky and I are not married, but that does little to answer the question. The fact is,
Micky doesn't cook at home these days. He used to whip up an occasional pre-work breakfast for us—eggs with fried eggplant and hummus, or macerated fruits with thick yogurt. On his day off, sometimes he'd roll up his sleeves and get busy with our pasta maker. Now, the pasta maker's been hanging out in the closet for a long time.
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From a shoebox sized wine and cheese bar to a big corporate steakhouse. I've worked in restaurants of many shapes and sizes. Different strokes for different folks—but I've discovered
I love the small spots. Little for me means more freedom, more room for creativity, and more power. It doesn't always work this way, I'm sure.
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Several months ago, our owner Debbie signed up for one of the first of Philadelphia OpenTable's Groupon-style deals. Unless you're living deep in a hole, you've heard of Groupon and its siblings: Living Social, Buy With Me, Deal On, and the rest. For restaurants, websites like Zagat and OpenTable offer nearly identical packages. As a new(ish) restaurant with a nonexistent PR budget, we liked that these promotions would bring in new business. But in some instances, we eat a lot of the bill.
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We are no Per Se. We have an old, teeny kitchen. So teeny that in the warm months, the staff sets up tables outside and sets up shop there. Most of our restaurant consists of hand-me-downs from old, closed restaurants. But our Per Se meal reminded us what a memorable restaurant experience could be; it was a push to look for ways to make our restaurant more special.
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I want us to be the best restaurant in Philadelphia. We already have the most stunning garden.
My goal: best food and best service. Not best Farm to Table. Not best Fine Dining yet Casual Unpretentious Atmosphere with Molecular Touches. Just a really solid, wonderful restaurant that gets better every day. A place to come to on any given night, or to celebrate something special, and leave feeling really good. Is that possible. And if so, is that enough?
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I crashed. I had been up all night the evening before, writing an epic anthropology paper for school, and up all night the night before that drinking crazy cocktails with crazy mixologists. I needed my sleep, and I was running on empty. Or running on caffeine and fancy gin and pho from the place on the corner. But none of that adequately substitutes for shuteye.
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Oh, the magic of the garden. It fills itself. You would never know you're smack in the middle of Philly. Enclosed in wrought iron gates, the space is sanwhiched between our historic colonial boutique hotel and the more modern restaurant building. The mood of guests and staff alike is instantly elevated just by
being alfresco. But the garden brings with its happy-making magic a host of complications and challenges.
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I knew it was serious when I heard Micky say, "
Debbie, it's as if you're telling me someone died." We whipped off our pajamas and redressed and pretty much ran the four blocks from our apartment to the restaurant. There had been no power in the restaurant for many hours by the time the hotel concierge noticed.
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My boyfriend spends a minimum of a dozen hours a day cooking, but he never has time to feed himself. He's taken up some emergency measures -- protein shakes, Clif bars. But these are poor substitutions when body and mind are calling out for some real food.
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My front-of-the-house life has been almost exclusively without passionate, focused mentors, without the company and examples of people who love what they are doing, who are living their dream. I have never seen a wonderful restaurant manager in action. I have learned a lot, but much of it on my own.
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