Amy sent a letter to the White House with a copy of our menu and asked that, if President Obama and the First Lady ever came back to Asheville, they try our place for dinner.  When she found out the President would be spending his vacation in Asheville in April 2010, she followed up her letter with several emails to just to keep us in mind while they were here.

The President and First Lady came to town, visited 12 Bones on the way to their hotel (a great restaurant by the way, owned and run by really good people) and settled in – if that is ever the case with the President and his schedule – for a couple of days in Asheville.

While we had hoped the President and Mrs. Obama would come to the Corner Kitchen, it seemed that their trip was too short and their were too many other opportunities for them to explore for them to make it to Biltmore Village.  By Saturday night, April 24, I had assumed they would finish their trip and go back to Washington without us seeing them.

Joe and I and our friend Grant took our families to Pack’s Tavern for dinner.  It had just opened and we were interested to see what they had done with the building and the food.  The building is beautiful, the food was good and we were having a really nice visit with each other.  About halfway through dinner, I got a text from my step-brother, David Warren.  He was at the Corner Kitchen for the birthday of one of my cousins.  Our text conversation went something like this:

David: Is the President coming here tonight?

Me: Not that I know of.  Are there Secret Service agents there?

David: A few

Now David is a pretty decent joker from time to time so I just ignored him.  I figured he was pulling my leg, and I was involved in a conversation at the table so I forgot all about it.

Three more texts came in but I didn’t really notice them until I got up to check on the kids.  They were exploring Pack’s Tavern and, hopefully, staying out of trouble.  I checked the messages – they increasingly implored me to get to the restaurant as fast as I could since the President was there.  Still thinking that David might be joshing me (really just in disbelief), I called the Corner Kitchen.

First call goes to voice mail – not a good sign as we make every effort to answer every call.  Second call is answered by Adrienne in her most professional host voice.

“Thank you for calling the Corner Kitchen.  This is Adrienne.  How may I help you?”  I asked if anything unusual was going on and the response was something like this – “Yes, the President is upstairs and I’m freaking out!”  This said in the most enthusiastic way you could imagine.  And she wasn’t freaking out but she was very excited.

I made the rounds, told everybody what was up and Joe and I headed to the restaurant, families in tow.  At this point, it probably makes sense to answer the most common questions we have been asked:

Did they let you in to your own restaurant? Yes.  The Secret Service were very professional, very serious about their job and also very understanding that as the owners we wanted to make sure everything went OK in our business during their visit.

How many Secret Service agents were there? All of them, I think.

How much notice did you have before the President arrived? Just a few minutes.  One black Suburban out front is normal, several is odd, and several with Asheville Police Department cars surrounding them is the President.  By the time you notice all the GM vehicles in the street the ball is already rolling.

How did they choose your restaurant? Not really sure, but the White House advance team ate with us on the Tuesday before the President’s visit and liked the food.  Their quote was “We have to tell the Boss about this place!” and that apparently put us on the short list of places for dinner for the President.  From what we can gather, the letters from my wife did not play into the decision but we did not exhaustively interrogate every staffer about it (Amy would really like to know, though.)

On Wednesday night, a staffer (unbeknownst to us) made a reservation for Saturday night for six people in our Sisal room.  The story was that he was going to ask his girlfriend to marry him and was going to have some friends with him for the event.  We booked the reservation, gave them the price for the private room and then I had the manager, Tracy Heintzleman, call them back and tell them they could have it for half the normal price for a private room.  I figure it was a special night, I wanted them to have good memories and not worry about the money.  Little did I know that money was not really too big of an issue and that the guest of honor was already married.

Did they clear the restaurant of all other customers? No.  Guests with reservations were allowed to come in after the appropriate checks and body scans were made but no new customers were allowed to come in after the President’s party.  Good thing, too, as many of the customers that were already at the restaurant did not want to leave when they saw the President and First Lady come in.

Did you cook anything special for the President and his party? If by this you mean, did you make something that was not on the menu, then no.  Josh Weeks, our chef de cuisine, felt that the regular menu had really great food on it that night and that the President and his friends would really enjoy it.  It also let the kitchen continue in a more or less normal fashion for our other customers and staff.

Did the Secret Service taste the food? Yes.  And they had Josh taste the food throughout the dinner preparation.  Again, they are very professional and very serious about their job.  But they seemed satisfied with what they saw in the kitchen and let our staff do their jobs.

What did the President and his party eat? Corn and Crab Chowder, Mahi Mahi, Baby Arugula Salad, Fried Oyster appetizer, Lobster Taco appetizer, Pork Chops, and Souffle were among the things on their order that night.

Did you hand pick the server for the President? No.  We rotate our staff through each station each week and Christina Calhoun happened to be the server upstairs that night.  She was a great person to wait on them.

Did you get to meet the President? Yes.  We were very graciously allowed to take our families upstairs to meet the President and his guests after dinner.  Their friends from Chicago were really nice people and President and Mrs. Obama were as warm and friendly as anyone you could meet.

The First Lady really seemed to gravitate to the children and asked them their ages, complimented them and seemed very motherly when around them.  The President was very relaxed and seemed to have a nice sense of humor.  When my wife told him of the contest she had with my daughter to get them here, he nodded and smiled.  When I said that my daughter wanted Arnold Schwarzenegger to come, he turned and said “And you got me” in a fairly self-deprecating way.

Did you make the President pay? Yes, but there was some thought about protocol. In the end we figured it was the right thing to do.  When we came in the room the President was signing his charge slip.  My wife touched him on the shoulder and said that he wasn’t supposed to have a bill.  He said that is was OK and just grinned.  After a pause, he said “I never get to use this card anyway.”

Did you get pictures of or with the President? Yes.  The President’s photographer, Pete Souza, was with him.  If you want to see some really compelling pictures, go to Pete’s website to view his galleries.  The one of President Reagan’s funeral is touching and distinctively American.  Check it out.  Here are the three pictures he took at the Corner Kitchen that night:

President and Mrs. Obama with Joe and Terri and their children

These photographs are provided by THE WHITE HOUSE as a courtesy and may be
printed by the subject(s) in the photograph for personal use only. The
photograph may not be manipulated in any way and may not otherwise be
reproduced, disseminated or broadcast, without the written permission of
the White House Photo Office. This photograph may not be used in any
commercial or political materials, advertisements, emails, products,
promotions that in any way suggests approval or endorsement of the
President, the First Family, or the White House.

The Obamas and the Westmorelands

How was the atmosphere in the Corner Kitchen that night? The best word that comes to mind is “surreal”.  We have had a handful of famous people visit the restaurant but they are usually by themselves or with a friend.  When the President comes to your place, the atmosphere is pretty electric.

We feel honored that the President and First Lady had dinner with us.  My wife kept hoping that they would have a chance to spend a peaceful dinner while they were here.  I am sure they were able to do this at the Grove Park Inn and we think they did at the Corner Kitchen as well.

Here is an assortment of pictures that were taken mostly by guests who were in the restaurant or outside.

Since then I have become fascinated with green tea and the health benefits that go along with it.

With that said, I never really gave too much thought to where the tea came from.  I suppose I understood that it came from somewhere overseas -  a dim picture of oriental tea plantations shipping crates of tea to England was somewhere in the back of my mind but that was about it.

On our trip to Charleston over Spring Break, we picked up a pamphlet for the Charleston Tea Plantation on Wadmalaw Island, about 25 minutes from Charleston.  Wadmalaw Island is interesting in itself as it is pretty unspoiled and protected from development (or at least any more than is already there).

On the drive to the plantation, you feel like you are going back in time.  Massive live oaks covered with Spanish moss line the roads.  There are some old gas stations that still seem to serve folks and some stately older homes on the tip of the island.  You pass the spot where you can see the Angel Oak, one of the largest oaks in existence and apparently the oldest living thing east of the Mississippi.  Save time to stop here on the way back from the plantation.

At the entrance to Chareston Tea Plantation, you drive past a couple of fields of what look like low cut privet hedges to a new metal building that is the combination tea production facility and gift shop.  You can take a free self guided tour of the production facility in which the process of sorting and drying is described on video screens for you.  The entire  facility is about as big as a small gymnasium and apparently they have room for more production out of this building.

What you really have to do is take the tour of the plantation itself.  It costs $10 per person and you get to ride in a covered trolley/bus for the 30 minute trip around the tea fields.  The tea plants themselves are from cuttings from the original South Carolina ones planted on a private plantation over a hundred years ago.  The ride out in to the fields (the plantation covers 127 acres) is peaceful and the narrative informative.

What was news to me was that the Charleston Tea Plantation has the only tea plants grown and harvested for sale in America.  Most of the tea grown in the world is in the Far East and Africa.  The owner of the Charleston Tea Plantation, Bill Hall, sold it to Bigelow in 2003 but remains as both the overseer of daily operations and lives on the property as well.

The tea plants are grown without any pesticides or chemicals.  It seems they have few, if any, natural predators.  They are harvested using a one-of-a kind machine that was made specifically for this purpose – there is no other in America.  I suppose preventative maintenance is important with this little beauty.

On our trip, in early April,  the tea plants were not completely in bloom yet.  I say bloom as they do have flowers, but not on top of the plants as they are repeatedly harvested from the top throughout the growing season.  You could see the process of trimming and planting that was taking place at different locations on the property.

After the trolley tour, we explored as much of the property as we were allowed to (there are a couple varieties of poisonous snakes and other creatures that the owners would rather not have you encounter).  It is a nice change from the downtown Charleston experience and gets you in touch with the rural history of South Carolina.  You can also pick up some tea at the gift shop and brew some truly American tea for yourself.  Plus you get to see that little oak tree on the way back to town.

This trip – we are in our next to last day here as I type this – we decided to be more methodical about our trip.  We have started to plan our vacations a bit more since a trip out of the country last year and it really helps if you want to see a lot in a short period of time.  With that said we still don’t worry about where we eat as much as what we see.  The difference this trip was that we were meeting friends on James Island/Folly Beach the first night we got here so we planned a dinner at Taco Boy at Folly Beach.

Taco Boy is a local Taqueria/Cantina (to use their phrase) that serves really fresh tacos and nachos and, if you are so inclined, lots of alcohol.  My friends, Rodney Brockwell and Tammy Spake Rice, go to Taco Boy enough that the staff knows them by name so they suggested we meet them there.  The restaurant is in a low stone building about two blocks from the beach and right in the middle of the frenzy of activity that occurs during Spring Break.  At 7 pm on a Friday, the place is hopping but we got a table in about 20 minutes.

The menu is pretty simple – several apps, a couple of salads, and a list of tacos which include fresh fish, pork, sausage, veggie and portobello to name a few.  I ordered a Mahi Mahi taco with red cabbage, cilantro and ancho chile yogurt sauce and a Tuna Taco (fresh Ahi) with chipotle slaw and cilantro

Ahi Tuna Taco in double soft taco shells

and they were both really delicious.  The ingredients were very obviously fresh and tasted great together.  We also had chips and salsa which is expected here and they were good as well – fresh and warm with homemade salsa, queso and guacamole dips.

We noticed the folks at Taco Boy have opened a new location in Charleston that appears to be in an old warehouse.  If the food at the Folly spot is an indicator the Charleston location will be packed.  Good luck to these guys.

More to follow on the Charleston Tea Plantation in a future post.

Not exactly my cup of tea.

The upside for the people who sign on for this insanity is that sometimes there is a breakthrough moment and the next Food Network personality is born. Most folks however, are abused, embarrassed and discarded as quickly as the next commercial break. It is a sad commentary indeed that producers and networks make so much money on this kind of show.

Cooking shows have been around almost as long as television. When I think of cooking shows, I think of Julia Child, Jacques Pepin, Wolfgang Puck and Emeril Lagasse. Each one of these “personalities” had their fair measure of idiosyncrasies, but the message was primarily about the food. These expert chefs were sharing something of value. Their methods have stood the test of time and the information given was really usable. The first “personality” based television show of this type that I remember was called “The Galloping Gourmet” starring a silly man named Graham Kerr. He was a leading man type, very charming for the ladies (think housewife), and ultimately someone who fell by the wayside for want of true substance. By contrast, you can still see re-runs of Julia Child and Emeril continues going strong because of the message behind the hype: Good cooking is not only a joy to watch, but it is wonderful to make as well!

Now, I don’t want to mislead anyone or misrepresent myself; I like the “limelight” as much as the next guy. I would be happy to do a cooking show, because it would be a break from the daily grind. It would be fun and exciting to gain some notoriety. Also, I am certain that those famous chefs make a whole lot of money and that wouldn’t hurt either. The show might be called, “Southern Cookways”. I’d visit cooks and farmers in the Southeast and show off the food we make down here. That way I wouldn’t have to wander too far from home… Lights! Camera!

Three of the mysteries involve things going missing.  An example is the loss of our teaspoons.  Every two months or so, I have to buy new teaspoons to complement the fork and knife that go into a rollup for each customer in the restaurant.  In other words, I have a silverware sorter that holds knife, fork, and spoon in separate bins.  We will have a roughly equal number of each until we notice, one day, that we are 20-25 teaspoons short.  I go buy these (moderately expensive as these things go) spoons so that we can roll all our silver and things are good – until two months down the road and the situation repeats itself.

We have gone down the list of possible explanations for this phenomenon.  Maybe the spoons get thrown away when the tables are bussed.  Several of our staff think this is the answer.  I disagree.  We have someone standing over the compost and trash cans every 30 seconds or so all day disposing of food and table debris.  I think we would have multiple incidents of “Hey, there are spoons in here!” exclamations if they were being thrown away.

Other staff think the spoons get tossed in the linen bin with the napkins after bussing.  Again, I disagree for the same reason as the garbage theory above.  Someone would spot the spoons and say something.  So, since I have discounted the two most logical explanations, the two remaining reasons are theft and accidental loss.  Our silver is solid, heavy and functional – but not really theftworthy.  Maybe one or two would go missing every so often, but theft on this massive scale is not likely.  Accidents could include the dumping of a handful of spoons in the trash or behind a bar or table where they might lie for a week or so.   If this were the case, then once a month, during deep cleaning, we would find the errant silver.  But we don’t.  And why just spoons?

Other missing items were the large aluminum ice scoops that we used in our main ice machine.  They were fairly inexpensive, but had the look and feel of scoops from the old general stores of the past.  Sold at FRS in town and online at several dozen internet restaurant suppliers, these scoops are not hard to find.   But every time I bought one, it would last no more than a week and then disappear, never to return.  After losing five or so of these scoops I decided to switch to heavy plastic ones and have not lost one since.  Were the aluminum (they were actually what my dad calls pot metal – an inferior type of cheap metal blend that usually breaks over time) scoops just so cool looking that someone couldn’t resist taking them home?  If so, what did they use them for?  And five of them?  I can just imagine the sight of one scoop in the serial box, one in the coffee can, one in the flour and so on.  But these scoops were 32 oz ones for goodness sake.

The last missing item we have are our small cream pitchers.  They are Fiestaware and are the cutest darn things in the world.  At least for cream pitchers.  And they are fairly expensive.  They also come from Homer Laughlin china, makers of some of the most popular china for the last fifty years.  Homer Laughlin is a great company, but their supply chain is rooted firmly in the early 20th century.  Order some cream pitchers and then wait two cycles of the moon and you might have them in the mail.  So losing them is really sort of painful for us.  For these I have two reasonable explanations.  One is that they get broken.  I see this happen with some regularity.  I remember each time it happens because I have to turn and leave the room and mourn quietly for a bit.  The other is that they get carried home as a souvenir by a guest.  I accept that this can happen, not because I have seen it or have no faith in humankind.  I work with people that have roughly 400 years of restaurant experience between them and they have seen it happen – over and over again.  So maybe it happens here.

The last two mysteries are more minor but still interesting.

Where the heck did all the pens go?

And the most common coin found on the floor at our restaurant is the dime.  Six years of decidedly unscientific research has proven this out.

I have had some online comments that I should finish the “biography” of myself with another Blog entry and then move on to more serious subjects, like the story of the Corner Kitchen, recipes, cooking techniques, etc.

I’ll try to fit it into one entry, but I might need two…

Ok…, after about a year in Hackensack, I grew restless (a common theme in my life…). There was a cooking opportunity in Denver, CO. I thought long and hard, about 1 minute, and jumped at the chance to go west. Not one to do much ( ok, no)  research, I pictured Denver as some sort of mountain town, a visualization of pine trees poking up through skyscrapers, arranged to give the appearance of climbing a mountain. I was NOT prepared for the arid, flat expanse that was, and is, Denver. I arrived at the height of the oil boom of the 70’s and the joint was jumping. I liked the feel and in no time was enmeshed in the kitchen business as well as the music and theatre scene. Denver is a great city for young pioneers, which is how I pictured myself.

During this time period I worked for Houlihan’s , TGI Friday’s, and local favorite, Govn’rs Park as well as a short stint at The Normandy Restaurant. The fast pace and lifestyle that I lived at the time was exciting on some levels, but ultimately destructive. I burnt the candle at both ends and sometimes even in the middle. It certainly was NOT about the food, rather it was about the party life. Eventually I had to pull a “geographic”. I knew I had to slow down but couldn’t. I girlfriend of mine was moving to Lincoln, Nebraska to finish her undergraduate work. I decided to go along.

My family said “Nebraaaska! What on earth would compel you to go there?” I, however, had a great time. The high point was working at a place called Kenneth Meier’s Cork and Bottle. Ken had a wine shop that was (and is) the finest wine store in the state. It was here that I learned the basics of two things, wine and salesmanship. These guys were serious about both. In no time they helped me to be conversant in all the German wine regions and adept at reading a German wine label. Then I started on the French. I read Alexis Lichine’s Encyclopedia of Wines and Spirits and the Windows on the World Book, both of which are still in my library. I started to cook differently during this time as well. Learning about the finest wines in the world leads very naturally to finer food.

After about a year working with Kenny and the boys, I called the Culinary Institute of America. My brother had graduated from there a couple of years earlier and was doing well. I felt the need to get back in the kitchen, but wanted to go somewhere else with my career path. I spoke to a guy in Admissions and he assured me that I wouldn’t make any more money than I was making working for Ken Meier. He obviously missed the point. It wasn’t and isn’t about the money. If I learned anything from my father, it was to seek excellence and be very good at something you love. I enrolled starting in May of the next year, 1985.

During a visit to Detroit for a family wedding in June, 2009 we went to Hamtramck for dinner at one of the city’s landmark Polish restaurants.  The Polish Village Cafe is located in an older neighborhood a couple of blocks off the beaten path.  In fact, if there wasn’t a sign hanging in front of the building, you would think it was someone’s home.  You enter at the street level and go down a flight of stairs into another time and place.  The restaurant and bar is located in the basement of this brick home and is enchanting.  There are paper lanterns hanging throughout the cozy interior and a kitchen in the back where we could see several women bustling around the stoves.

The dark wood bar is inviting with a beautiful backbar.  Large arched alcoves house stained glass panes with backlighting that just draw you over for a seat.  The bartender suggested a Polish beer called Zywiec, which is a lager from a brewery that belonged to the Hapsburg family before WWII.  It was refreshing after a long day at the Detroit Zoo.

We had no reservations (I don’t think they take them) but were seated quickly, even though it was right at 7 pm.  I had seen Pimm’s no.1 on the bar and asked the server if the bartender could make a Pimm’s Cup for me.  It was one of my business partner Joe’s favorite drinks years ago and I wanted to try it.  She hustled off and came back asking what was in it.  I couldn’t remember and just told her that if the bartender didn’t know how to make it I would take another beer.  The server came back briskly and told me that she had asked the bartender to make me whatever she wanted and I would take it.  She was so friendly about it I said OK – and received a whiskey sour a couple of minutes later.  Not a Pimm’s Cup but just fine.

The menu, a cold beer and crusty bread - a nice start

On to the menu.  And what a menu – Goladki (Stuffed Cabbage), Czarnina (Duck Blood Soup – I didn’t ask), City Chicken and Dill Pickle Soup to name a few of the items.  I chose the Dill Pickle Soup and City Chicken.  The soup was really tasty, with diced potatoes, carrots, and small slivers of dill pickle in a creamy broth.

Dill Pickle Soup

The City Chicken was also tasty, but there was no chicken to be found.  I asked the server what was it was made of and she said “Not chicken” and went to the next table.  I was brave and dug in.  It was actually large cubes of pork on wooden skewers, breaded and deep fried.  The entree came with mashed potatoes and  green beans as sides and they were nicely done as well – best described as home style.  My wife had a potato pancakes and pierogi sampler and was pretty happy with the sweet cheese filled pierogi.  Around the table my family was eating kielbasa, kraut, goulash, garlic chicken and more pierogi.

It was really a unique experience and such an interesting change from a chain restaurant.  I can’t tell you if the food is authentic Polish, but I can tell you the restaurant is an authentic piece of the past that is still going strong in Hamtramck.  To top it off, the dinners were about $7.   We will definitely go back when we visit again.

The Polish Village Cafe is at 2990 Yemans St, Hamtramck, MI 48212.  No website and they don’t take credit cards, so hit the ATM before you go.  Best time is evidently mid-week as they seem to be a local favorite.

If you have ever visited the restaurant and seen our bar area,  you may have noticed that while the bar is large, the area behind it is pretty tight.  Part of my interview process is to assess whether the person I am talking to has the personality to deal with bumping into other employees 50 times during a busy brunch and handling it with grace.  Not scientific but useful when working here.  We have no room to fit kegs (even the little cigar kegs) so our local beer options, when we opened, were limited to one brewery- Highland Brewing Company.  This was not a bad thing, as their beers are excellent and Oscar Wong, the owner, was a customer.  Highland bottled in 12 oz. bottles and this made it easy for us to store and serve them.

Now there are several options for local microbrews in bottles.  Asheville Brewing Company, French Broad Brewing,  and Pisgah Brewing all offer beers by the bottle, albeit in 22 ounce sizes.  We carry at least a couple from each brewery and will be picking up the seasonal brews as well.  Step in for a cold one and see why Asheville tied Portland, Oregon for Beer City USA this year.

If we could just fit another cooler in the place…

As you may realize, it takes a special type of person to stay in this business for any length of time. “Special” has too many meanings to list here, but suffice it to say, I ain’t braggin’. I am saying that I have been in the Hospitality industry for the last thirty-one years. It all started because I was out of work and putting myself through college. My older brother Vin got me a job as a host at Houlihan’s Old Place at Riverside Square Mall in Hackensack, New Jersey.

Try  telling New Jerseyan’s that they would have to wait for a table,even for a minute. The wait could grow to as much as two hours. Can you say thick skin? Oh yeah, it was very colorful.  After several months of hosting (which I really liked), I quickly trained through out the whole operation, ending up working in the kitchen. Back then the “American Bistro” restaurants like Houlihans’ and TGI Fridays were doing a lot of scratch food preparations. They also did (and do) huge volume. When I started cooking I was lame, very lame indeed. I had to be talked through the rush by a kindly manager by the name of Jimmy Knikos. It was so different from working the door, in the kitchen a confident smile carries no weight, it didn’t matter that I had manners or was glib. The only thing of importance was the food. And getting the food out in sych with the other three cooks on the line. Thankfully my brother had gone on to the Culinary Intstitute before my inauspicious start, so I had no witnesses to my daily humiliation.

I have to say, it was love at first sight. Where else can you work with a large group of fun (and usually good looking) people, all bent on making money and having a good time doing it? Not only that, they fed us, we could buy beer and the dating game was fast and furious. I never wanted to go home. Problem was, school faded into the background and my life quickly became work-centered. I dropped out after two years as a communications/theatre major. To make matters worse in my parents minds, Don Pardo, the famous announcer, was going to help me find a job at NBC after graduation. Alas… but as the zen master said, “We’ll see…”

More on the next post. JWS