The Kitchen is Open
Date: October 20, 2004 Edition(s): ALL
Page: D1 Section: LIFE
Source: MELISSA TURNER Staff Writer
Copyright (c) 2004 Greensboro News & Record
There's smoke in the kitchen.
Looking for the source, Kerrie Thomas doesn't appear agitated, but then he never does.
Beth Kizhnerman simply looks perplexed.
Suddenly Thomas - still unflappable -- is on the move, carrying a convection oven out the back door of Bistro Sofia. Tiny flames lick out the back of the oven.
It's a rare moment of drama at the five-year-old restaurant, owned by Kizhnerman and her husband, Jerry Kizhnerman.
TV shows such as "The Restaurant" would have you believe that a pressure cooker of sexy scandal lurks behind the scenes at most dining establishments. Or flip over to the Food Network, where everything is as perfect and perky as those tidy little dishes of parceled spices and precisely diced onion.
What's it really like behind the kitchen door of one of Greensboro's independent restaurants? Bistro Sofia let us take a peek.
The work can be a blast on those nights when the dining room is packed, the tips are generous, and the wine and food flow fast and smooth. But like any other restaurant, their existence in a notoriously fickle industry depends on the health of the economy, the whims of diners, competition from big-budget chains, and in Greensboro at least, doing good business during Furniture Market.
The climate breeds a staff fiercely loyal to each other and the restaurant, and a faithful clientele keeps the place on its feet.
On a daily basis, it's one detail at a time - wiping stray specks of sauce from plate rims, rearranging slices of meat so they fan out just so, checking each glass for spots before splashing in wine. They seem small, but they all add up to an experience.
The action at Bistro Sofia starts well before the doors open at 5 p.m. On this day, sous chef Steve Tholkes has veal and chicken stocks boiling before lunchtime. The seemingly haphazard mix of chicken or veal bones and water is deliberately crafted to form the base of sauces.
Tholkes pulls a finished stock from the fridge, shaking the bin to show the gelatinous result. Pure flavor with a generous shot of protein.
"You can really taste the difference in the finished product," he says.
It'll be awhile before he puts the finishing touches on anything. Right now, it's all about preparation. Gulping from a can of Red Bull, Tholkes slices steaks for the evening, sinking fast, even cuts through the meat.
Across the stainless-steel table, Kizhnerman swirls banana puree into a custard ice cream base, then packs it up for freezing.
The day starts slowly, but the to-do list - a yellow sheet posted on the ice maker - is long.
Thomas, general manager and sommelier, peeks in every now and then to tell Kizhnerman she has a call or ask her a quick question. His turf is the front of the house, where he crafts the wine list and runs the show every night. Everyone is busy preparing for the huge influx of visitors that descend on the area during the International Home Furnishings Market. Kizhnerman has been busy socking away sorbets and soups and stocking up on staples.
This busy season is an early test for Lee Moeller, who joined the staff less than two months ago. He's cooked plenty before, but not here. Moeller says Kizhnerman runs a tight ship, but that suits the ex-Marine from Nova Scotia just fine.
"The kitchen is the closest thing to the military you'll find. You do what you're told when you're told, you don't ask why 'cause you don't have time to ask why, if you have a problem, you talk about it later."
Still, he admits, his new gig isn't easy.
"It's a bit nerve-wracking for your boss, who's also the owner, (to be) standing next to you. If you screw up, you can't fix it fast enough. They're going to see."
But he says he's lucky, too, calling the warm and approachable Kizhnerman "probably the most talented chef in the entire state."
"Some other people have let me get a little sloppy and develop some bad habits," he says. "Not her."
Also new to the kitchen is Tonya Dease, who takes care of salads, desserts and some of the appetizers most nights.
Having such a newly formed team in the kitchen makes Kizhnerman nervous as market nears. Only Tholkes has been through market with her.
"The (kitchen) staff I have now, they really haven't grasped what we do during market, although they're starting to see it with the prep, so it's frightening."
And the prep is the most important part of it. Because once the stream of guests starts, it doesn't let up for a moment.
Market is to restaurants what Christmas is to toy stores.
It's an essential source of income in an area that doesn't offer many other guarantees.
"It was always market to market, then market to Christmas to market. It's very erratic," Kizhnerman says.
She knows she can count on that week-plus of flourishing business in fall and spring. It takes some of the pressure off.
"You always hope that going into market one year you'll be totally in the black, but this week it's so quiet," Kizhnerman says in the days leading up to market. She sighs and smiles. "One of these years."
Bistro Sofia's been open more than five years now, a benchmark some consider a crucial indicator of a restaurant's long-term success.
"I really didn't want to open a restaurant in Greensboro," Kizhnerman says.
She had attended culinary school after college and has cooked around Greensboro and with renowned chefs in Boston and France. Her husband had owned businesses, but Kizhnerman had always worked in someone else's kitchen.
"I was," she admits, "really afraid."
She says a friend talked her into taking the plunge with Bistro Sofia. It wasn't easy suddenly having her name on the dotted line.
"We thought after six months we'd have to close. ... There were a couple of times we were like 'that's it, we're closing.' "
But somehow, things have worked out," she admits with a wry smile.
"We're sort of the little restaurant that could."
Still, there are no guarantees. So, every day she and her staff worry over the tiniest details and watch the reservation book - sometimes packed to the brim, sometimes woefully slim.
"You never really feel like you're sailing. At least, I don't."
The front-house staff, an eclectic mix of college students and career restaurant staffers, comes in about 3:30, except Thomas, who's in and out much of the afternoon.
Bartender Joshua Swaim sets up the bar, muttering to himself, joking with whoever walks by and, if need be, cursing the old vacuum cleaner with duct tape on the hose.
He's still in shorts, and the waiters wear T-shirts over their pressed black pants as they prepare the dining room. The bar is smoky, and a half-eaten bundt cake rests on the edge of the bar. This will all disappear by 5 p.m.
"Poof, everything just comes together at the last possible minute," Swaim says.
Dinner can be hit or miss at Bistro Sofia during the regular season. One night, they might serve just 25 people, another might be more like 90, and still more for furniture market.
"You still have to do the same amount of work," Swaim says, even if only 20 people show up.
And on busy nights?
"It's called the restaurant high," Swaim says. It's a delicate dance with dozens of near collisions, but few real problems.
Though communication is essential, it all has to happen in a kind of shorthand, through gestures, exchanged looks, half sentences and near misses. And it all seems to work.
"Everyone communicates like ants, chemically, telepathically, so when you get someone new, you're like, 'I have to speak?' We operate like a unit because there's no real turnover here," Swaim says.
Except for the temporary market help, Dennis Wiggins is the newest addition to the front-house staff, and he's been at Bistro Sofia for nearly a year.
That longevity allows wait staff and bartenders to actually build relationships with customers.
"Here is the first place where I know the bulk of who comes in, and I like them," says waiter Jason Womack. "Most of the time you're just kind of sucking up to them, to put it bluntly, but (here) I really do know them." On slow nights, there's time to grab a magazine for a few minutes at the bar, talk politics or munch a plate of truffled pommes frites.
But during furniture market, it's a whole different story. Things kick up early at Bistro Sofia, and the wait staff, dishwashers and kitchen staff don't stop.
Tholkes, who's working the stove with Moeller, seems to go on autopilot when the orders start coming in back-to-back. It's literally a dance in front of the stove as he balances hot pans, sauces, grilling and plating. He stays quiet and focused. They all do.
Smiling and pleasant with guests, the staff is serious and focused with each other. Concentration is the only way to make it all happen.
There might be 11 or more people in the tiny kitchen at once - one carrying heavy trays with some 25 glasses to the dish-washing station, while someone else is loading a tray with heavy bowls of bisque.
To the untrained eye, it looks bewildering and precarious. To the experienced, it's the only way to work.
It's been a fast education for Dease, who's prepping salads and desserts. At 23, she's the youngest in the kitchen, but it's clear she's found her passion.
"I don't feel like I'm working almost. ... It's hard, this week is hard, but it's fun," she says.
Part of her enthusiasm, she says, comes from feeling she has a stake in the place. It's Kizhnerman's business, but the staff all speak of Bistro Sofia as their own. At "family meal" on Saturdays, Kizhnerman cooks lunch for the staff and they all get some time to kick back and hang out.
"It's kind of like a big family. The food that goes out, it's not only our reputation as a restaurant. It's us," Dease says.
"This is our restaurant."
Out in the dining room, the air is alive with laughter and music, clinking of glasses and forks on plates.
The bar, like the kitchen, is a hub for the staff, but this spot is even smaller - just a doorway leads from the dining room to the bar, and frequently four or more people stack up placing their drink orders, picking them up, dropping off clean glasses and picking up the dirty ones.
Oh, and there's the bartender, bar back and the finicky espresso machine that starts whirring early and goes well past closing time.
The place officially closes at 10 p.m., but the dining room is full well past 11, as diners enjoy dessert and coffee, and maybe an after-dinner drink. Slowly the bar empties of guests and fills with staff.
Kizhnerman, now halfway through market, isn't worried about the performance in the kitchen or the dining room anymore. They're in the homestretch.
Sitting on a bar stool, she leans against the wall and chats with a friend.
One table over, Dease, Tholkes and Moeller kick back, and Thomas sits in a corner, studying tomorrow's books. Some of the wait staff have left, a few are lingering. Swaim is wiping up at the bar.
They'll all hang for a while, past midnight, savoring the sleepy end to a long night. And why not? It's their place.
Contact Melissa Turner at 373-7092 or mturner@news-record.com
Memo: WANT TO GO?
What: Bistro Sofia
When: Hours are 5-10 p.m. Tuesday through Sunday, seven days a week during Furniture Market
Where: 616 Dolley Madison Road, Greensboro
Information and reservations: 855-1313 or www.bistrosofia.com.
All rights reserved. No part of this story may be sold, published or included in any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher. *reprinted without permission Looking for a Valentine's Day Setting?
Bistro Sofia still good
JOHN BATCHELOR, Special to the News & Record
(Thursday, January 30, 2003 1:00 am)
| Revisit is an occasional themed column narrating return visits to restaurants that have been favorably reviewed in the past. Trying out the "hot new place" is a popular pastime. Revisit is offered in the belief that remembering those establishments that have been doing a good job for some time is important as well.
Bistro Sofia, always one of the area's most attractive restaurants, looks even more elegant now. Interior walls are decorated with the owners' collection of menus from some of the world's (that's no exaggeration) most exalted restaurants, as well as plates dating back to the 19th century. Panoramic dining room windows look out onto a new, enclosed garden, where patio seating is available in warmer weather.
The wine list offers 16 selections by the glass, in addition to the bottles. All struck me as good choices and good values. I would give a special endorsement to the Guenoc Petite Syrah ($6.75/glass). Bistro Sofia serves wines in glasses that help concentrate and convey flavor, and the portions are appropriate. Their wine list has often won the Award of Excellence from The Wine Spectator magazine, including the last three consecutive years.
During January, the restaurant has been running a special promotion celebrating the New Year, with a fixed price, three-course dinner for $20.03. That caught my attention, and lured me in for a return visit.
We started off with a salad of mesclun greens with sherry vinaigrette. The other choice for first course was the soup du jour, borscht (beet soup), served hot.
The main course that we selected was Grilled Maine Organic Salmon. It arrived hot, tasting fresh, with an herbed lobster vinaigrette, over a small salad, flanked by whole grain mustard potato salad. The sharp flavors complemented the natural salmon flavor well. Alternative main courses included Wild Mushroom Meatloaf with mashed potatoes and a cabernet demi glace; Goat Cheese and White Porcini Mushroom Lasagne with lemon veloute, and Grilled Free Range Chicken Breast with braised red cabbage and apple cider glaze.
One of the highest compliments I can pay a restaurant is to acknowledge difficulty in making a choice. In this case, my wife and I agreed that we could have enjoyed any of these, so the choice was pleasantly hard.
As enticing as the fixed price menu was, I opted for selections from the regular menu. I wanted any one of several appetizers, especially the Homemade Country Pate ($6), the Confit of Duck Leg ($8), or the Seared Diver Scallops ($9), but I have been trying to drop some weight, and I was trying to hold down the price on a weeknight, so I picked a healthy and reasonably priced alternative, Baby Spinach Salad ($6). Strips of warm beets and a warm bacon vinaigrette dressing contributed their flavors to the main ingredient, so although I skipped a few calories, I didn't miss a thing regarding enjoyment.
In a way, I was saving up for what I really wanted: Steak Frites ($18). The tender, sliced beef delivered deep flavor, extended by a rich red wine reduction. But it was the potatoes that I was looking forward to, and they were downright wonderful: thin-sliced and fried crisp, the epitome of what a French fried potato ought to be.
I felt well satisfied with the total price of $24 for both courses. Other menu entrees in the lower price range included Garlic Roasted Free Range Chicken ($15/half chicken) with braised red cabbage and apple cider glaze, Sauteed Calf's Liver ($15) with a shallot and pancetta salad with onion gravy, Trout Filet ($18) with dill and black peppercorn crust, and Braised Short Rib Ravioli ($18). Of course, you can move into the upper price range for more elaborate entrees, too, but I was pleased to find a number of good alternatives that didn't mandate the equivalent of a house payment. Vegetarian items are also identified on the menu.
The fixed price meal included dessert -- Lemon Tart with blueberry sauce. It tasted as tart as it should have, the blueberry sauce and whipped cream ameliorating the impact of the lemon somewhat, while blending in flavors of their own. In sum: a good meal, a good value, an elegant setting, and good attention from servers. A good return visit, in other words.
If you haven't made reservations for Valentine's yet, Bistro Sofia would be a mighty good choice. John Batchelor is a free-lance contributor whose restaurant reviews appear on Thursdays in City Life. *reprinted without permission | Reviews Southern Living Magazine, August 2006
food finds greensboro, north carolina
BISTRO SOFIA
This alluring cottage restaurant charms with stone walls, an intimate bar, and a lovely outdoor courtyard. For an entr�e try the seared Alaskan halibut, a creamy dish with sherry and mushrooms. Homemade ice cream rules the dessert menu. Opt for the pistachio-date-nut variety ($5) if it's on the menu. Sweet, crunchy and infused with a ribbon of caramel, it will provide the perfect finish.
616 Dolley Madison Road; (336) 855-1313. Entr�es: $16-$36
*reprinted without permissionDinner Belle: Bistro Sofia still finding delectable new flavors for palate Winston-Salem Journal
June 28, 2007
GREENSBORO - The chatty trio of middle-age ladies at a patio table were keeping the slight, blond-haired waitress busy. First they wanted wine. Then a plate of frites, drizzled with truffle oil. Then the credit cards came out, and an elaborate explanation of how to divide the check. The waitress, the picture of patience, brought back their receipts. The sky turned a yellow-gray, the color of thunderstorms, as I spread a cool roasted garlic-bean spread on a warm slice of good bread. �You have 15 to 20 minutes,� another waiter announced cheerfully, scooping votive lights off the outdoor tables. He popped his head out a beat later. �Maybe less.� Is it unseemly to gush? Oh, well. I love Bistro Sofia. I love that the waiters give you weather updates along with wine recommendations. I love the long list of martinis refreshingly devoid of cloying liquors. Instead, the vodka is cut with Lillet Blanc, a sweet French vermouth, lemon twists and capers. I love the slightly-worn, carved wooden sideboards, the collection of antique and new menus from around the world on the walls, the fluorescent-green curl of Bells of Ireland curving up from a cobalt bowl of roses on the mantel, and outside, a patio hugged by a thick wall of rhododendrons, the raised kitchen-garden beds of herbs and lettuces just to the left. It�s shabby-chic, though far more chic than shabby, warm and homey. And oh yes, the food. The food! Bistro Sofia�s menu is heavily seasonal, filled with the kind of food that tastes best now, and so the offerings change frequently. On a recent night, there was sockeye salmon, dribbled with a creamy sun-dried tomato and lemon vinaigrette, resting on a mound of split fingerling potatoes, shitake mushrooms and green beans. Slices of red tomatoes are not just ripe, but summer ripe, glittering like jewels under a pair of very fine Dungeness and jumbo lump crab cakes. Diced green tomato surrounded a warm slice of bacon, leek and mascarpone tart. Lamb loin, cooked medium-rare, rested in a pool of green peas, mashed potatoes and cabernet demi-glace. Strawberry-rhubarb tart is the puckery, sweet taste of warm weather. Such dishes are noted simply on the menu, the ingredients listed in order of appearance. There are no silly claims about anything being cooked to �perfection,� because the food speaks for itself. I buy the motto on Bistro Sofia�s Web site: �Serious dining for diners who don�t take themselves seriously.� This place is fun, but the real deal, good for a chilly bottle of Vovray, frites and Belgian endive salads with girlfriends, and full-dinner splurges with a pricey piece of fish. I�m not telling you anything new. Back in 1999, former Winston-Salem Journal restaurant critic Candide Jones gave Bistro Sofia the full force of four stars (at that time equal to my measure of five bells). Other critics have agreed. But what�s remarkable is that after all these years there�s little that feels tired, at least not that you can derive from the dining room. Bistro Sofia�s emphasis is part French bistro, part Eastern European home-cooking, dashed with Asian, and so are the restaurant�s stand-bys: a small, deep bowl of beef, pork and onion pierogi splashed with vinegar, dill and sour cream; homemade country pate with sweet and sour figs, cornichons, red onions and Dijon mustard; and steak frites. Classics, true. But doesn�t an appetizer of big, tender seared scallops and leek and roasted red pepper salad, napped with a snappy apple-cider vinaigrette, sound better? Or hot lobster croquettes? Next to this, the pierogi, pale and watery from their bath in boiling water, fall flat. Exotic is not always better. One evening, we tried grilled shrimp curry, a bowl of shellfish strewn among green-tea soba noodles, eggplant raita (a South Asian yogurt-based condiment), and a ginger, citrus and cucumber chutney. Too much was going on in that bowl, and at the same time, not enough. The overall flavor was muddy. Another night, a scoop of hazelnut ice cream was mealy and icy, but it�s a small blemish. Its sister, toasted coconut lime, made me want to sing. So did the roasted banana balanced on top of a warm chocolate cake, kissed with an earthy-flavored smear of guava sauce. These aren�t oldies but goodies - these are exciting flavors that you have to look hard for in the Triad. Bistro Sofia�s been doing this for eight years.
Address: 616 Dolley Madison Road, Greensboro. Phone: 336-855-1313. Web site: www.bistrosofia.com. Hours: 5 to 10 p.m. Tuesday through Sunday. Reservations: Accepted and recommended. Type of cuisine: A French-Asian-Eastern European bistro, though slightly more dressed up. Alcohol: Deep beer and wine list, and a classy collection of martinis. Smoking: Nonsmoking, except sometimes on the patio. Price range: Appetizers and salads: $6 to $14; entrees: $16 to $36; desserts: $5 to $8. Credit cards: Visa, MasterCard, American Express, Diners Club. The wait: Usually none. Service: Kind and competent. Be sure to try: Seared scallops with leek and roasted red peppers; bacon, leek and Mascarpone tart; lamb loin; crab cakes with a green bean and tomato salad; toasted coconut lime ice cream; strawberry rhubarb crumble�. Do you want me to go on? Stay away from: Pork, beef and onion pierogi. Vegetarian-friendly? Somewhat. There is always at least one vegetarian entree.
Will I go back? Oh - frites and wine on the patio on a summer evening? How can I say no? *reprinted without permission Homegrown Revolution
By Lorraine Ahearn Greensboro News & Record
August 5, 2007
| Read about Beth Kizhnerman and Bistro Sofia >> | | GREENSBORO -- Before every Boston Tea Party, every spontaneous uprising, there is always a Stamp Act � one last straw, one final outrage that's too much to swallow.
At J&S Farm Stand, John Marshal can no longer count the last straws on both hands. Mad cow. Bird flu. The spinach scare. Green onions. The peanut butter recall. Genetically modified hog feed that happened to get into corn chips.
And each day brings a fresh scandal about Chinese exports, in which contaminated pet food was the tip of the iceberg.
"People don't trust corporate America anymore, but they trust mom and pop," says Marshal, whose stand at Piedmont Triad Farmers Market stocks organics from about 50 local producers � eggs, milk, flour, chicken, lamb, even dog food.
"They want fruit that was ripened on the vine and picked last night down the road. Not harvested green or pink, shipped 1,000 miles and then 'ripened' in a CO2 chamber."
A gradual trend toward natural, local food has long been dubbed "slow food." Up close, it seems a slight misnomer.
That's because one glimpse inside the Piedmont's widening network of farmers who pick their crops, truck them to local markets and sell them before they are 24 hours off the vine, and one word that hardly comes to mind is "slow."
The field, 5 p.m. Friday
A lunch break of fried okra wasn't until 3 this afternoon. Work, on the other hand, started at 0-dark-30, before the sun peeked over the ridge and climbed high enough to burn the mist off the bottomland.
Friday is a "pick day" at Snow Creek Family Organics, and that means everything else has to wait. Everything but cabbage and cucumbers, carrots, purple-tinged okra, butternut squash, muskmelons and eggplants.
All organic, these are the stockpiles of the homegrown revolution. And up in Stokes County, five minutes from the Virginia line, Methura Spradling, 31, is the advance guard � a field marshal in dusty brown Crocs and a pony tail, with just one battle plan today.
To pick.
If the wind whips up, he'll pick. If a soaking rain comes and electricity crackles in the air, he'll pick. There is no time to lose because tomorrow is a market day.
Within 12 hours of harvest, Snow Creek's crops will be loaded into Spradling's faded blue GMC van and headed south to Greensboro.
Some will go to the Farmer's Curb Market, where vendors will be massing at sunrise, and 3,000 people will have crowded into the old barn-shaped building by the time the market closes at noon. Other products will be unloaded at East Carolina Organics warehouse in Pittsboro to be distributed fresh to restaurants and stores across the region.
And there is a third, little-known outlet catching on by word of mouth: The pick of Stradling's fields also goes to individual customers who made a lump cash investment at the start of the season, and now receive a weekly delivery.
The arrangement is called "community supported agriculture." But John Hendricks, a Greensboro engineer who has bought a share of Spradling's produce for three years, has a plainer name for it.
"I just call him my farmer because, theoretically, that's what he is," says Hendricks, who picks up a $25 bushel of assorted produce each week at Deep Roots co-op, then splits that three ways with friends. "It's very affordable. And it's good to have that personal connection with someone who's growing your food."
Meet the new face of North Carolina farmers, and their customers. It's an intriguing, complex portrait.
Part of it is familiar. The ox-drawn plow Methura Spradling's brother-in-law uses to turn hard soil under. The spring freezes that shrivel the buds and summer droughts that wither the vegetables. Heirloom seeds and gnarly, ugly fruit more flavorful than the supermarket version.
But it's also a face we haven't seen before. Weekly e-mail alerts announce what's ripe and what time to get it. Intricate delivery networks run on retreads and 16-hour days.
At heart, it's a battle of time and distance � an awareness that something is on the brink of perishing. Something bigger than a van full of watermelons.
As a drive down many a two-lane road attests, North Carolina leads the nation in loss of farmland to development. Meanwhile, food sources are concentrated in the hands of larger, more distant farms.
Slow food proponents argue that local farms offer sustenance not only for the body, but the community as well.
"This is for future generations," Spradling says, surveying the field where his work is done � until he rises at 5:30 a.m., bathes, loads the van and heads to market. "I don't want to leave behind a bigger problem than the one I found."
The market, 8 a.m. Saturday
A chef chooses produce the way an artist chooses colors. Decisively. Quickly.
Poker-faced behind sunglasses, Beth Kizhnerman will walk the length of both outdoor pavilions at the Piedmont Triad Farmers Market before buying so much as a cherry tomato. Then, she walks it again.
Trained in France, she apprenticed in food prep, spending 12 hours at a stretch on a single task � peeling garlic, say, or separating the red mesclun leaves from the green ones. Giving the owner of Bistro Sofia and Smith Street Diner what you might call a practiced eye.
"They're hard as rocks," she says of a cart of imported peaches, not needing to feel them. A peck of wrinkled chili peppers: "They're hydrating. They've been out too long."
But the watercress from Mount Airy: "Perfect." Randolph County cantaloupe: "Oh, that's good." A Carthage-grown canning tomato she holds to her nose, smelling the stem, then scooping up a box for $6.
"It smells like dirt. It smells like a tomato," she says as she loads the diner-bound carton into the trunk of her Prius. "A supplier would charge $15."
But as with any household, it's a delicate balance. Even at her French-style bistro, with linen tablecloths and a wine list, Kizhnerman has to keep within a budget to stay afloat: Food is a third of her costs.
Organic local lamb is a cut above, but out of a small, independent restaurant's range. The local organic dairy has excellent products, but the bistro is no longer on its delivery route. Making that connection is hit-or-miss, and it's not every day that a chef on a restaurant schedule can scout bargains.
Likewise for households, nothing can compete with the convenience of a 24-hour supermarket. Still, local farmers are little by little making up the difference in quality and price. In season, for example, organic tomatoes sell for $2 and $3 a pound, less than they fetch at chain grocery stores.
And it's a better deal for the farmer: Even though roadside stand prices are cheap, farmers get to keep what they take in. Selling to wholesalers, in contrast, farmers get pennies on the pound, and the wholesaler, the packager and the retailer get the profit.
A case in point is Randy Bettini, a slow-food farmer who supplies lettuce and greens to Bistro Sofia in both summer and hothouse winter months. A part-time farmer specializing in shiitake mushrooms, Bettini waits for customers to come to him at the farm stand he mans each afternoon off Summit Avenue near Bryan Park.
"I don't have to buy all those chemical fertilizers and pesticides, so I can afford to sell zucchini for 50 cents a pound," Bettini says. "Pick it at its ripest point, cook it and eat it. It doesn't get simpler than that."
The kitchen, 5 p.m. Saturday
There's a lull before the dinner hour, a pause between the all-day chopping and grinding and trimming, and the moment the gas range at Bistro Sofia fires up again.
Nothing is left to chance, and "simple" is easier said than done. For instance, tonight's special: "Flounder in papillote with a julienne of summer vegetables, pearl pasta and Bistro garden herb butter."
The fish is line caught, instead of trapped in big nets. The difference? Less trauma, no long rigor mortis. It filets easily. It tastes better.
Earlier, sous chef Steven Tholkes ducked out back to snip thyme, basil and tarragon from the garden. In a week or so, the tomatoes will be red � and on the menu.
Tholkes went to the American Culinary Institute. He learned the chemistry of it.
He can buy a bag of chanterelle mushrooms from who knows where, reconstitute them in hot water and add stock to make them taste the way they should. Or he can buy them from 100 miles up the road, saut� them in butter and get that incredible flavor.
It is all in a sunset-to-sunset journey. From the afternoon when Methura Spradling harvests his crop, to the dewy morning Beth Kizhnerman sees the sweet, clean Yukon Golds at the market, to the evening when sous chef Steven Tholkes carefully arranges the rack of lamb and potatoes "daupinois" on the plate, it all leads up to one moment.
That's the moment Barbara Davis, sitting at her regular table near the bar, unrolls her napkin and picks up a fork.
She was a chef in Napa Valley, and makes a living writing today. But at times, there are no words. Rack of lamb is one of those times.
"That lamb � so simple," Davis says, then pauses to describe the potatoes � a casserole of Gruyere cheese from Virginia, local shallots, a pinch of nutmeg. "Oh, my God, those potatoes were good."
Contact Lorraine Ahearn at 373-7334 or lahearn@news-record.com *reprinted without permission |
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