Volume I Episode I

Monday January 28th, 2008

Arrival and First Day of Work

So, this is my first attempt at keeping a blog so bear with me. I guess Im making it a little hard on myself as Im trying to do too many things at the same time. Trying to keep in touch with my friends and family. Trying to keep a journal of a trip to a part of Mexico where Ive never been and thus have a lot to learn culturally, geographically, historically etc. and finally trying to document the opening of a new restaurant which although Ive experienced several times before Ive never been so audacious or maybe so foolish as to try to document. While, Im in the caveat making section, I have to say that given all of those lofty goals, I cant be held responsible if anyone gets bored or offended or skipped or ragged on.

So we are gunna start back from the getgo. SFO to Houston raining cats and dogs. The plane arrives in Houston about half hour late leaving me about 25 minutes to cross one of the world's great airports George HW Bush International. So, in my best OJ impression I scurry over hill and dale to get over to my flight to Leon/Guanajuato just in the nick of time. Low and behold, no gate agent, no announcements, very few people, and the neon sign still flashing 2233 to Leon leaving on time at 5:50. See, if youve already been in Mexico for a couple of months you might realize, oh yeah, of course, its just late. They dont need to bother telling us such an obvious thing, the plane leaves when its good and ready, just like anything else. I, of course, ask the closest possible station agent (is that the right word?) and her answer is "stand near the door. That way you'll be ready". Thanks. Breathe deeply, rellllaaaaaaxo.

Anyway, while awaiting our flight I meet Andrew, my housemate, co-sous chef and Real World buddy. The only other dude waiting for the flight who looks like he might be anything like a cook. You know...tattoos, dickies work pants, black slip-on vans, scruff. To make a long story short we arrive in Leon a couple of hours later. He gets stopped by the totally random red light/green light security monitor and has to empty this huge box of cooking utensils, linen napkins, cuisinart etc that the chef has sent him down with and then pay some funky import tax(I guess Mexico has a limit on the number of napkins one is allowed to bring into the country). Neither of us get the F3 visa that we had been praying for (thats a business visa which Donnie, the chef and his 'lawyer" had been trying to hook us up with), but the oddsmakers had us as pretty deep longshots so we aren't too surprised. Somehow, unlike America, the Mexican immigration authorities don't seem to accept a letter printed at home with a scanned signature that says hi, I own a restaurant and these people are my new employees. Please give them proper working papers.

So, we get in the car to roll back to San Miguel. Its about an hour and a half from the airport. The most interesting part of the ride is that as we drive along this little two lane highway thats pitch black with an average land speed of about 95 mph there are many many people walking along the side of the road. Not too common of a sight in the good old US of A. Turns out that there is some sort of pilgrimage going on and people are walking for a week to get from wherever they started to some Sacred Saint of something or others special holy place (I dont have the internet hooked up yet, so I cant bust out the research to jar the memory). Anyway, just walking along the side of the road in pitch blackness....fun! And it turns out our driver is also a matador.

So, we meet up with Donnie, at the house, which by the way is super sweet. He and his wife built this house to sell and she is an interior designer and so the place is beautiful and charming and stylish with crazy brick archways, 3 fireplaces (including one on the roof deck), lots of custom stone, wood, tile and metal work etc. Im a little freaked out as the only decoration in my room is a flashing neon Virgin of Guadalupe. We grab some tacos (a very common theme of our tripas you will soon realize) and head downtown to see the restaurant and go out for drinks.

The restaurant is in a building within one block of the main church and garden square right in the heart of San Miguel. It is the interior courtyard of a large u shaped building with the kitchen and bar area behind the main u and the offices, walk-in, dry storage and prep area in a seperate building. There is all kinds of San Miguel history that explains why the restaurant is in a historic building with a large outer wall protecting it from the street. I guess the key elements are that the city was at one point under Spanish occupation, and the Spanish aristorcrats liked to build large walls to keep the rifraff from checking out their sweet pads (kind of like the French quarter in New Orleans) and that the whole centre of the city is now a UNESCO heritage site so nobody can really change building structure. Anyway, the point being that Donnie and Cynthia have had to build this restaurant within the confines of a previously existing building whose wings are a high end furniture and home decor store. But, given said limitations, the place is incredible. Cynthia has designed everything from the chandeliers to the tiles surrounding our kitchen and hood to the tables and chairs including back lit recessed wine cabinets in the dining room, crazy paisley cow hide banquette upholstery (cooler than it sounds) and a huge wooden bar complete with built in cash register and waiter station.

The night out is fun mostly because Donnie is a superstar. Every bar we enter is like cruising Long Beach with Snoop Dogg . Hugs, pounds, free drinks, lots and lots of cheek kisses, DJ high fives. We somehow manage to hit all five of the critical San Miguel bars before heading to bed.

Saturday starts with a trip out to the ranch where our bar is being custom built and some of our organic vegetables will eventually be grown (long story, but the seeds haven't quite arrived yet). I guess San Miguel is a place where people can and do make their dreams come true. The ranch owner is an American man who was an interior designer back in Santa Fe. He came down here and now not only does he get to design the interior of various dream houses, but he has his own upholstery factory, woodworking shop and metal studio on his compound where he makes all of the furniture he uses in said homes. And when he gets bored of that he can go out to his organic garden where he has rows and rows of beets, leeks, swiss chard, lettuces, etc. None of which he seems to have to actually touch himself. Next we eat some more tacos (fish this time) before picking up various sundries including a safe, metro shelving and a huge custom chandelier that looks a little like an upside down wedding cake but covered in mirrors and cool metalwork and without all of the disgusting buttercream frosting.

Saturday evening is full of green chile enchiladas (mine stuffed with huitlacoche a savory black corn fungus pretty common in Mexico), art openings (that seems to be the thing to do in San Miguel) and house parties. I guess San Miguel has a reputation as both an art colony and a psuedo art colony where lots of rich older Americans go to buy art and act snobby. The truth, as far as I can tell after 3 days here, is that its both. I have already met tons of artists, visual, musical, actors, dancers etc. Young hip bohemians and working artists. Probably a more concentrated and active and creative and frolicking art community than Ive ever experienced including SF, New Orleans and Barcelona. And yes, there are definitely some retired folks here taking art tours and art or Spanish classes and buying stuff. They seem to be both constantly at odds with each other and completely interdependent. Kinda funky. But, mostly, I have to say that although Ive met a lot of the dreaded ex-pats, young and old, people here are really really cool. people who have left the US or other countries to live a simpler life or to raise their kids in a better community or to get away from something or to make art or for the perfect weather or a million other perfectly legitimate reasons.

that seems to be all I have in me tonight. i guess I wont get on to day one of work til tomorrow.

Tuesday January 29th, 8:10:56pm (I just got the fresh Casio digital calculator watch with 30 phone number memory)

Sunday, was an official day off the restaurant (not like we have been working that hard yet). Anyway, Andrew and I took a few random walk abouts trying to get a feel for the layout and life of San Miguel. Stopped on our block for some barbacoa and menudo. Barbacoa is goat leg steamed in these big ass leaves and then served as tacos with some of the broth from steaming. They also had some tacos using the goat organ meat minus the tripe (intestines) which goes into the Menudo. Nice full product usage right here on the block. Donnie was DJing in the afternoon for a 12 year old girl's birthday party at a club that usually opens at 1am and is called Diablito (little devil). Anyway, what a sweet party. Free drinks (everyone there seemed to like a drink called a paloma- tequila and Fresca with lime check it out) , free tacos cooked fresh on the parilla out on the porch, fresh hip-hop DJ rolling from 2pm to 8pm at least. Met a bunch more cool San Miguelians (if thats what they're called). A couple from New Zealand who have 2 kids and are volunteering for a local group building houses for the local poor. They just brought a few students in from RISD who are teaching them and the recipients of the homes how to build using a homemade adobe brick and an arch support so that the homes are well insulated, sturdy and quite cheap. Cool. In he same conversation I also learned that Mexico has more millionaire citizens than any other country (is that true?) including many around San Miguel. People told stories of houses with pools in the guest house and waterfalls in the living room. The night ended at another couple's house who are a painter and an actor with some badass guitar playing and beautiful singing (neither of which emminated from me).

The final note on Sunday is that on our way out of Diablito, Andrew bends over to pet one of the stray street dogs. He's a little German Shepard looking mutt, but only about 20lbs and real cute and playful. Anyway, one pet seems to be all that this little homey needs to be hooked. The rest of the night he follows us around and waits, somewhere between patiently and impatiently for us to finish up at whatever bar or house we happen to be hanging in. When he finally tails us home, he refuses to come in the house. But, low and behold, the next morning he is still lying on the front porch awaiting his new master. Needless to say little homey, now called Dude as chosen by donnie's 2 daughters, is becoming a part of the family.

Monday, we began into the real project of building the restaurant. I think one of the trickiest parts to starting a new restaurant is manipulating the chessboard of jobs so that right ones get finished in the right order. The complexity of this is multiplied when you are building from scratch. So Monday we cleaned (swept,mopped, washed windows) the office, so we could build the metro shelving and put in the desks. This allowed us to put up the computer system which in turn prepared for the guy to come and set-up our internet and network. This allowed for another guy to come set-up our fax and vonage phone lines (international phone line which somehow runs through the internet) which then allows for the guy to come in and set-up the POS (point of sale system). Not sure why these are all guys, they just seem to be.. And dont even think any of these guys show up anywhere near on time. There is definitely some reality to the expression Mexican time. Anyway,cleaning the office then allows us to bring in all of the chefs cookbooks from his house along with all of the small wares which he has been using at home but which are now going to become restaurant gear. I think this often happens with chef types. You think you can save some money and maybe some hassle by bringing in gear from your house.. Usually it ends up breaking quickly through either mishandling or over-handling and then you don't have a functional cuisinart at home or work. I guess many chefs stop cooking at home altogether though once their restaurant opens. Not I says the naive son.

Wed, January 30th

Tuesday we began with a trip to the tinges (that is a made-up spelling based on what i hear the pronunciation as). Anyway, its the big old farmers market which also is a flea market of sorts. Tons of produce stands, carnitas, fresh liquados (juices), cheap clothes, watches (thats where I got my dope casio), random wires, ultra cheap pirated cds and dvds. Same thing like they have in almost every cool non-American western European country on earth. We stock up on some sweet extra grande shopping bags, Meyer lemons, hoja santa (big old leaves used to wrap and steam fish which impart a kind of minty-oregano like flavor), and random sundries for the barbecue that we are going to co-host that evening out in the campo (the country) with one of our new bartending amigos. It's kind of tricky here in Mexico, because a lot of the places stock the exact same 20 items of produce which happens to make one think of cooking Mexican food.. Luckily, Southern soul food is relatively similar to Mexican in the simplicity of its ingredients and the available meats and vegetables.

Next we stop by the badass dude who Ive decided to call super guapo who is custom making all of our tables and chairs out of iron. First of all he is all tough guy, mustache, jean jacket, huge silver belt buckle of what looks like an iguana and some type of reptile boots. Second of all he raises roosters for fighting. Third of all he talks just like Cheech except he is actually speaking Spanish. Pretty sweet "factory" he runs as well....4 or 5 dudes standing in a big carport welding without masks or goggles or any sort of protection what so ever. Occasionally you will see one put his hand over his face to keep the sparks out of his eyes. Anyway, Cynthia designed all of the furniture on her autocad which I'm sure super guapo has never heard of.

So, we get out of work a little early to head out to the country for a barbecue. It's about 10 or 12 of us in this cool Gaudiesque house with funky rounded roof, composttng toilets, cool cactus garden and a crazy badass tango collection on vinyl. It turns out one of the folks we are hanging out with is house sitting for a local ceramics artist and tango teacher. The crew includes Alligator Dave, a south Texan who plays bluegrass guitar and raps real dirty. He also happens to be from a family that is best friends with the Phillips family originally of Houston but now of Dallas Texas (for those of you not named Slaver, said family includes gentlemen by the name of Wade and Bum who have both coached the Saints). Like any good Southern man he does like to tell a lot of stories over and over again. But, there is really no limit to the number of times I can hear about holding Jerry Jones' ring covered hands while kneeling and reciting the lord's prayer. A Mexican skater/rapper who seems to know all the inside outs of the area and was born in a bathtub less than a half mile from the house we are in. A German kid whose parents own a bar and who also happens to be an aspiring young rapper. A Senegalese drummer and dancer. A plant biologist from Sonoma with a huge mastiff-rotweiler named diggity (As in the Blackstreet song). A few bartenders, a few cooks and a few dreads (and at least a couple who are both). You can imagine the shenanigans that ensue. Dirty rapping in three languages with some flamenco/bluegrass guitar and tango dancing in the background.

The night ends on an unfortunate note as Andrew and I while walking home get accosted by some of San Miguel's finest. Three cops pull us over for walking while white. Hands against the wall. Frisked from sock to dread cap. Everything out of the pockets. Every single shred of paper and lint (which I tend to carry a lot of) checked to see if it held any sign of drugs or other contraband. Serious shakedown street. Not really a great feeling to know that if anything is found or "discovered" you could be pretty much going to jail or emptying your bank account or both. Luckily, there was nothing to find.

Wednesday, we take a ride out to our baker Fernando's house and bakery. Also in the country outside of San Miguel, he has built a really cool little bakery with his mom and aunt. Brick wood burning oven which he designed himself (from a plan he bought from a famous Australian wood oven builder), extra large super industrial mixer and bread slicer, a few proofing racks and shaping tables, fridge to house his starters most of which are made from local ambient yeasts he collected off grapes grown by his neighbors. All solar powered. All out in the middle of a huge tract of dessert like land with dusty soil, cactus and scrub brush. On our way back to the restaurant we stopped at another organic farm. So, different from the farms at home. First of all, these farmers are literally growing more produce than they can harvest or sell. i guess people here haven't really accepted that organic vegetables justify their price. As we walked through the fields, most everything had way out grown its peak. Giant purple turnips. Chard and kale with leaves over a foot long. Radishes the size of baseballs. PArsley and cilantro that looked like bushes. Lettuce heads that could feed a family of four for a week. Anyway, its kind of sad in that it goes to waste, but its also kind of cool to see how great the growing conditions are and how much potential there is for the future. Anyway, this farm is hopefully going to take our seeds and help raise them up to the seedling stage. Unfortunately, they didnt seem equipped to necessarily handle the raising and harvesting and delivery of the final product. We will have to transfer and replant them elsewhere for that.

Much of our kitchen equipment was finally installed on Wednesday afternoon. Again it is a juggling act to get the kitchen prepared, walls tiled, hood built including the tiling outside and the duct and filters inside, along with the proper electricity and plumbing pre-installed, and the fire safety system at least minimally prepared, so that when your kitchen equipment arrives it can be easily installed without delays. Similarly when the guys arrive with your custom built steel tables and shelves, all of the equipment needs to be placed and wired and plumbed and gassed and fire protected so that the stainless can be more or less permanently affixed. I'm sure in the glorious world of project management there are some sweet flow charts and graphs that might help with all of this. But in the world of chef owned restaurants, especially in Mexico, it definitely takes some luck as well as some planning, patience, skill, foresight and lots of money.

Wednesday night i finally cooked at home for the first time since arriving. New red potatoes with Brussell sprouts, mushrooms, peppers and onions with over easy farm eggs and a green salad with gigantic purple turnip (which by the way is excellent raw. sweet and spicy). Met my other housemate, Alejandra from Mexico city, and made some hibiscus, chamomile, lemongrass and mesquite honey sun tea (bisquit eat your heart out).