Wrapping it up...

Bringing you up to date- Fall 2025

My friend Spence, whose wife was from India, once told me there was a saying there that went something like “You can eat an elephant, one bite at a time.” That was in the back of my head a lot in the year that followed. The bills were piling up and revenue was barely covering payroll, but I kept paying vendors every time I got a few dollars. If not for the longstanding friendships I’d developed with them, we’d have never made it through. They knew I was good for everything, and supported us until we were able to pay them all in full. I’m grateful to them and always will be.

As guests started slowly returning, we worked extra hard to make sure they left happy. I’d fully assumed the duties of chef, and had brought my sons Andrew, Nick, and Bobby into the kitchen to make sure things were being done correctly. Our inherited crew from the River Lane slowly broke up and went their own ways, and I backfilled their positions with a succession of others, some of whom were terrific and remained with us for years, and others who just filled the spaces until we were able to trade up.

It’d been made clear to us that our clientele in the North Shore expected different things from us than when we were in Bay View. We listened to them, and made more changes.

We now included on our menu, with Jim’s encouragement, a favorite calamari appetizer he’d come up with, which made a lot of folks happy. It’s a steak, pounded thin, seasoned, dredged in flour, dipped in egg wash, then grated parmesan cheese. Fried in butter and served with a lemon butter sauce, it may be the most unhealthy thing I’ve ever put on a menu. Angela and I tried one once when we’d eaten at the River Lane, and we couldn’t eat more than a couple bites because of its overwhelming richness. It’s a heart attack on a plate, but it’s always been a crowd-pleaser and is still our best selling appetizer.

In addition to the calamari, they told us they wanted more familiar California wines on the list, as well as more high-end ones. In Bay View, we’d had glass pours of Napa Chardonnay and Cabernet, and a Russian River Pinot Noir, but the rest of our list was made up of hand-selected wines, mostly humble, low-production, reasonably priced offerings from small family producers, organic or biodynamic, from France, Spain, and Italy. I understand the value of letting the business evolve according to the wishes of the clientele, so we began backfilling some of the imported wines with domestic ones as we ran through them, until we achieved a balance that it seemed the majority of people were pretty happy with.

Next, we had to figure out our optimum hours of operation. When we first moved, we had a number of guests tell us they’d like it if we were open for lunch. At the time, there were several companies doing business within walking distance, and we knew that a good number of folks who’d been steady River Lane customers were retired and liked to lunch with their friends, so we decided to give it a try for one year then decide whether or not to continue. We worked on a luncheon menu that covered most of the familiar bases, similar to the one we tried in Bay View. We had Andrew cooking with me helping if needed, and a couple waiters who had evening jobs and were looking for some extra money.

Lunch was a bust.

To put it simply, there wasn’t enough revenue to offset the cost, so we were losing money for all the hard work and effort. We decided, after the year was up, that we’d be better off just concentrating on dinner.

Brunch was essentially the same story. We had a few friends who’d come almost every Sunday, so we’d set up for them plus a few more, but if for one reason or another we’d get busy, we’d be running around like crazy because we’d only prepped for the usual number. Angela and I would come in and if we weren’t needed, sit at the bar and enjoy some pancakes or eggs Benedict, but it was a little depressing sitting there with only a few tables occupied and staff on their phones or watching TV at the bar. The food was good and from scratch but it took too long. Except for the omelets and Bennies, none of it was even French, and we had a lot of people who came once not return. After about a year, we gave that up, too. We were spending a good deal of money on ingredients, staff, and overhead for one morning a week. Once again, we decided the best thing to do was concentrate all of our effort on dinner service.

We tried opening on Sunday and Monday nights; on Mondays we had a little action because that was our half-price bottles of wine night, but an unusually tight labor market caught up with us and we just couldn’t put the staffing puzzle together in an efficient way. We had to battle with the NFL for half the year, too. We closed on Sundays and Mondays.

During the COVID-19 lockdowns, we reopened on Sunday evenings and did “Sunday Suppers” which were mostly inexpensive comfort food to be picked up or delivered; a choice of two entrees, vegetable, potato, salad, bread, and a dessert for a set amount; it worked well because it was incredibly efficient. We had very little overhead because Angela and I did the cooking and Frank handed out the orders. We stopped that when we were allowed to reopen.

In the years we’ve been in business, we’ve left few stones unturned when it comes to generating revenue. We’ve offered catering but it’s never been more than a small part of our business. We still do it when asked, but the amount of effort it requires is substantial when you’re not specifically set up as a catering company, and in the end, it takes me and Frank away from the restaurant, which I where I think we should be. We’ve done special wine dinners, which have been well-received and generally successful. All in all, we’ve tried lots of things and discarded those that don’t either contribute to our bottom line or don’t enhance our dinner service and the enjoyment of our guests.

What’s worked best for us is simply to provide the best quality food and treat our guests like they’re friends we’ve invited into our home. The first time we meet someone, we try to leave a good impression and make them feel appreciated. When they come back, we do the same, and on it goes until one day we all feel like friends and family.

It’s never really been about chasing awards or recognition, making lots of money, or anything other than being able to cook good food for our friends.

When we were new, we were kind of cool and there wasn’t anyone like us. French restaurants in Milwaukee had largely run their course and it was kind of limited to Lake Park Bistro and to a lesser degree Chez Jacques. Our place wasn’t like either of them. We made simple bistro classics and our wine list had some great picks but nothing on it was over $50. We had 48 seats and a two or three week wait list. There’ve been calls from media and even Food Network, but that’s not at all who we are.

I’ve always been happy just working with family and friends, making the kind of food I enjoy eating, and never felt like we needed more than that.

I still don’t. Fifteen years down the road, having had three locations in various parts of the city, having won some and lost some, I’m happier than I’ve ever been. My life has evolved with the business, as has Angela’s. Same with the boys.

We’ve been off the restaurant radar for many years now, just plugging away quietly in our little corner of Brown Deer. I no longer get calls except for a couple times a year asking if I’d be interested in opening another location in this building or that strip mall; the answer is always a quick “No thank you”. My job involves less cooking now, as I have Andrew, Nick and cooks doing most of the line work. I set up the kitchen, make soups and stocks, do the braises, and run to the chicken farm and other places to pick things up we need.

I fix things people break, cut the grass and do other chores as assigned. I spend a lot of time in the office, doing marketing and promotional work because when your business has dropped out of the collective consciousness, you need to find ways to remind folks that you’re still around.

Being a has-been has brought a welcome serenity to my life.

Things I used to worry about, I no longer do. Feeling like I need to do everything myself no longer drives me to work 70 hours a week. I’m freed up to walk the dog in the morning, take an occasional night off to go out to dinner with Angela, or visit my Dad in Florida. Life is really good.

I feel immeasurably blessed to have had the opportunities I did, at the times they came along. I began my cooking career near the close of the classical/traditional era. I’m at the tail end of a bridge generation that’s worked through a transitional period toward the modern culture and cooking methods we enjoy today. Some of the old-timers I learned from used to wake up at three in the morning to shovel coal into the hotel stoves and ovens so the coffee beans could be roasted and ground in time for the breakfast guests. Now we have computerized ovens in most kitchens and one cook has replaced six or seven in the old brigades. There was corporal punishment back then and no one even thought about using correct pronouns.

If he were alive today, the chef who first took me on as an apprentice back in 1977 would certainly recognize the business as it is now, though he may not approve of all the technology replacing good old-fashioned cooking skill. He certainly wouldn’t approve of tattooed cooks in rolled-up trousers, tee shirts, and head scarves instead of the more traditional whites. It’s just how it is.

Things change.

For the most part, I accept the present but remain more comfortable with how things were in the past. There was discipline and structure. We worked hard and fast and the pressure was always there. There was no political correctness. We had wild fun. The bonds were close and lasted a lifetime. We caught hell when we screwed up, and once in a great while got praise when we did something really well. We always knew where we stood, and there was a lot to be said for that.

This isn’t the end of my story.

I’m still on the job every day. I will be until I can’t stand at a stove anymore. I love this life and can’t even imagine what I’d do if I didn’t have this place to come to anymore. It’s where I can be with people I love, doing something I love that brings enjoyment to others. If I could bring the dogs here it’d be perfect. Everyone should be so lucky.

I have a few more things to talk about, but they’re likely to be one-off pieces, either stories or commentary. As I said on beginning this whole thing, these are stories, as remembered, and not cold, hard facts I would swear to in court. I tried to use made-up names for those who might take offense to my using their real name, if they ever even read it. I mean no one any harm and I harbor no ill will for anyone I’ve written about because even the bad experiences have taught me valuable lessons I’ve been able to now pass on to you.

After all, that was the point of the whole exercise. That, and fulfilling a promise I made a long time ago to my Mom, a lifelong English teacher, who asked me to “Write these things down” I hope she’s happy.

I guess that’s about it for now. Until next time, lots of love, -m

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