Stimuli Packaging
Cash Register No hand-wringing about the economy here, because for many restaurants that have seamlessly fused appeals to a segmented marketplace—such as Commerce in New York City—these still are the good old days. Bryan Miller examines how they do it.
stimuli n pl. stim-u-li: an agent (as an environmental change) that directly influences the activity of a living organism or one of its parts.
The stock market may be teetering, jobs evaporating, and retailers of all kinds wilting like basil leaves on a hot pizza, but walk into Commerce in Manhattan's West Village and you could get the impression it's 2006 again, or at least a time less baleful than today's. Clustered around a wavy 1940s Art Deco bar in a room lined with restored subway tiles is a notably diverse assemblage—casual Village types, office escapees, pre-theater patrons, and the occasional literati sipping pastel-hued designer cocktails. On the other side of the boomerang-shaped space is a neighborly dining room dominated by a dreamy 16-foot-long mural depicting women at rest after a harvest. Executed in the Diego Rivera style, the painting and the surrounding decor evoke—talk about timing—the years surrounding the Great Depression.
"When we fell into today's deep recession," says Tony Zazula, the co-owner with his chef, Harold Moore, "I felt that, well, the 1930s and '40s theme could be somewhat like a Depression-era speakeasy, where you could find comfort and escape from your worries."
For now, at least, comfort seekers have been plentiful, which is particularly impressive considering Commerce is situated in a neighborhood where the competition is dizzying. Yet for all the gloom and doom, there are many establishments, hundreds of them across the country, that continue to flourish against depressing odds. Most are well capitalized and enjoy a loyal customer base, which is the best defense. And while Commerce is barely more than a year out of the basinet, its smart and stylish approach to design, food, and service could serve as a paradigm for hospitality during and after the storm.
Other examples in this genre might include dell'anima, a shoulder-to-shoulder hot spot in Greenwich Village that serves bracing Italian fare; the 38 seat Mémé in Philadelphia, specializing in sophisticated rustic American cooking; Palate Food & Wine, a Cal-Mediterranean bistro, wine bar, wine shop, lounge/wine tasting bar, and cheese cellar in Glendale, California, outside of Los Angeles; Sepia, an enormously popular outpost in Chicago that presents an eclectic menu in a turn-of-the-century setting theme; and Neighborhood Services in Dallas, a convivial spot serving straightforward American food. Not surprisingly, these restaurants share a number of features, above all in the front of the house: settings that are contemporary but not flashy or cliché ridden; dining room designs that foster a sense of neighborly urbanity and public conviviality; a mixed—and ideally multigenerational—crowd; a sense of place; a number of chef-styled homey dishes wrought from top-notch ingredients; an emphasis on regional products; warm and comforting servers; and positive attitudes among all.
Regarding design, Zazula and Moore wanted Commerce to eschew flash in favor of familiarity in order to become a place where a diverse clientele of all ages would feel comfortable. Most restaurateurs agree that the age of niche restaurants is over. "You can't make it on foodies or other types," Zazula maintains.
Named for the tiny curving street on which it's located, Commerce is the fourth tenant of a 1912 townhouse that once served as a speakeasy, then, for half a century, the beloved Village haunt called the Blue Mill Tavern. For the next dozen years it housed a popular mom food eatery called Grange Hall, that is, until mom could no longer afford the escalating rent. Two years and $3 million in the making, Commerce opened its doors last February.
To achieve an authentic Depression-era ambience Zazula reproduced hundreds of old subway tiles; the huge brass sconces were cast from a 1930s municipal building; high backed chestnut and leather booths were salvaged from the previous tenant and refurbished. One drawback, although it appears not to perturb all that many diners, is noise, despite sound tiles in both rooms. One of the few concessions to contemporary design—and some consider it out of place in this historical setting—is the modern coffered ceiling illuminated by 3,000 tiny bulbs (whatever one's opinion, the peachy patina makes everyone look great).
"The design is important, and we worked hard to make it right, but still, without a comforting and caring staff, you've lost the game," adds Zazula, who commands a jaunty presence in the dining room wearing a dark blue suit jacket over a rhinestone studded, hooded "sweatshirt" by French designer Christian Audigier. (He does not pull up the hood.)
The partners came on the scene with impressive diplomas from leading Manhattan institutions. Moore logged time at Daniel, Jean Georges, and the now-deceased March and Montrachet, where he snagged his first chef posting. Zazula is a veteran of the hospitality business and a protégé of the late restaurant impresario Joseph Baum. Ironically, he was the co-owner, with Drew Nieporent, of Montrachet when it debuted in 1985.
Moore, for one, is uncomfortable with the term comfort food, which seems to be a default catchall description of restaurant food for hard times. "I'm not into this urban-rustic thing," he insists. "It's my style of cooking as I perceive what the customers want."
Rustic or not, two of the biggest sellers on the menu are calves' liver with onions and bacon, and roasted whole chicken for two. Typical of his haute creations is barely cooked cobia with snow peas, black beans, and ginger. Asian accents thread the menu owing to Moore's Japanese heritage—he's a quarter Japanese, and his first exposure to cooking came at the side of his Japanese grandmother. Prices at Commerce are reasonable, with most entrées in the $20 range.
Restaurateurs love to talk about service. While the fundamentals don't change, the execution can be tailored to the times. Perhaps that's why today has been called the "hug me" era. Those interviewed agree that, aside from technical proficiency, it's now more about patience, caring, listening, and the ability to read the vibe at the table. "As far as service goes, we are warm and friendly, and we try to keep it casual, yet at the same time professional so everyone feels at home," says Gabe Thompson, chef/co-owner (with the 25 year old wine sage Joseph Campanale) of dell'anima and its freshly hatched West Village sibling L'Artusi. "And the staff here must know how to relate to all kinds of customers, because we might get an older crowd early, then your normal New York diners, and, because we're open until 2 a.m., the younger ones."
Emmanuel Nony, an owner of two year old Sepia, adds: "Whatever age the customer is, we're saying 'not to worry' and 'don't stress out'" He also lays emphasis on customer recognition, which impresses diners, prompting them to return.
Commerce goes a step further. When its computerized reservation system identifies arriving patrons, the kitchen discreetly sends out a complimentary course. Says Zazula, "This is customer recognition without visual contact. Again, this cultivates repeat diners, which we all need right now."
Moore explains that Commerce now requires servers to have a college degree or interesting life experiences "because they bring a lot more to the table." As he spoke, he turned and pointed out a young woman dressed in black standing near the kitchen. "She came in here for a job after being in the Army Reserves. Never waited a table in her life. Now she is one of our best." Another policy might be beneficial at other restaurants: the entire waitstaff interviews and approves job applicants.
Nick Badovinus, the surfer blond chef/owner of the genial Neighborhood Services, maintains that the bad times cliché "mom food"—which has expanded to include everything from meat loaf to braised lamb shank (if your mother was ahead of her time)—doesn't really hold much weight for him, despite a menu that lists barbecue spiced Niman Ranch meatballs, "butcher's block" burger, cider brined pork porterhouse with white bean ragoût and red eye gravy, and pounded pheasant Milanese. "I see a lot of risk aversion out there, people less willing to try something new for the sake of trying something," he proffers. "They are gravitating toward homey dishes that make above all emotional connection." This could bear upon the appeal of dishes cooked for two, like Commerce's roasted chicken and massive porterhouse steak. What is more nurturing and reassuring that sharing a meal?
At Mémé, highlights of the menu include a double cut pork chop and double cut steak. "They've been on the menu since we opened last September, and people really like them," says chef/owner David Katz.
Dining bars are hardly new. Still, those that offer front row seats to the pyrotechnics of an open kitchen appear more popular than ever. For one, they are casual and diverting—two catchwords for today's younger, restless diners. In addition, most of these bars, wherever they are positioned, allow one to drop in, drop a few coins to park on a stool, and forgo a three course meal in favor of small plates or appetizers.
"These kids don't want to sit still," says Thompson of dell'anima. The restaurant has two bars—a wide granite slab kitchen counter that accommodates six (if it were any closer to the action, patrons would be peeling shrimp) and a full-service bar at the entrance that accommodates 10 for drinks, dinner, or both.
Katz wanted to install such a feature during construction of Mémé but was prevented from doing so by structural impediments. "We don't have an eating bar, but we have rock music," he chimes.
Palate Food & Wine features a sizable wine bar in the center of the dining room where guests can eat as well as sample from 55 wines by the glass. Chef/owner Octavio Becerra says that having the wine and food bar in such a prominent space adds energy to the room. "It also adds a second revenue center," he points out, "and that's something we all need today."
Surprisingly, none of the restaurants has found the need to lower prices. Indeed, some already are particular bargains. At Palate Food & Wine all menu items are under $20.
With summer approaching, restaurateurs—a congenitally optimistic tribe—hope to see gleaming sunlight on their doors. "In the end," says Becerra, "this business is all about positive thinking, quality products, and love for what you do. That's when they come back."
