One of the more unique and unusual pleasures of my life is sitting in the stillness of one of our restaurant dining rooms at dawn before anyone arrives. I like to go in early, before anyone is there, and just “be” in the space. There is something about the solitude of that act in those rooms that inspires me.
It is quiet and peaceful. Occasionally the cleaning crew might be heard in the kitchen, or an early prep team member may be getting ready for lunch service in the back of the house, but there is something satisfying and tranquil about a restaurant dining room in the morning.
I wasn’t always an early riser. Restaurant ownership made me that way. In my teens and early twenties, I could sleep until noon, and often did. In college I had to set three alarm clocks and place them in different places across the room so I would have to get out of the bed to turn them off to make an 8 a.m. class. I don’t sleep that soundly anymore. When I opened the first restaurant at 26 years old, I began my days by opening the kitchen. That’s probably when I first started realizing how peaceful a restaurant can be when no one is around.
Typically, restaurants are a bustling mass of energy. Hopefully restaurants are a bustling mass of energy. That is always the dream at the start. We have been blessed to have been on the plus side of that column most of the time over the past 37 years. But that is also what makes the 180-degree change in atmosphere so unique. It’s not dissimilar to an empty sports arena the day before a big game. There is anticipation in the air, but no hint of what’s to come.
When I sit or walk around the dining rooms in the early morning, I think about all the events that we’ve been blessed to have been a part of for almost four decades. The daily gift given to a restaurateur is that he or she gets to host birthday parties, graduation celebrations, wedding rehearsal dinners, wedding receptions, celebrations of promotions and positive life events. We are also there after funerals and other meaningful and impactful occasions. I have never taken that responsibility lightly and have always been grateful to have been a part of people’s lives in meaningful moments.
An empty dining room at any other time of day is the opposite of peaceful and relaxing. It means business is slow and brings on the stress and burdens of ownership. One of the most sobering sites I have seen was when I was a Hospitality Management student at the University of Southern Mississippi a few years before I opened the first restaurant. I was with friends in the French Quarter of New Orleans on a bustling Saturday night. Every restaurant and bar was packed. We were walking from one place to another and passed a restaurant on Iberville with large-framed windows in the front. The dining room was empty. A lone man sat at a table with his head in his hands. It was one of the saddest and unnerving sites I had seen. I hung back, took it in, and vowed in that moment, that— when I opened my restaurant one day— I was going to do everything in my power to never be the guy sitting in a completely empty dining room on a Saturday night wondering what I could do to generate business.
There are a finite number of independent restaurateurs in the country. I count myself fortunate to be in that number. I also consider myself blessed that after 37 years, we are better— on all levels— than we have ever been in the past. Seriously, ever. A healthy business is the best Ambien. Though the restaurant business can be brutal and unforgiving. Many likely have a different morning mindset in their restaurant, today. I get it. I’ve been there. I feel for you. But for those of us who are armoring up every day and fighting the good fight, it’s pure joy, occasionally even in the trying times.
It’s not only the stillness of the room that is appealing to me, but also sitting in, and around, one’s creation that is significant. It’s being surrounded by a thousand thoughts, ideas, and bits of inspiration that started on a cocktail napkin or on countless pages of yellow legal pads. A room that now serves families and friends in times of celebration and sorrow, at one time, was nothing more than a fleeting thought or vague concept is something that keeps me inspired and moving forward.
These days if I sleep past 6:30 a.m. there’s a glitch in the matrix. I woke up at 4:00 a.m. this morning. Although I am not one who craves solitude, I love my early mornings as they are the only period in my day that seems to be 100% mine. Lack of the organized chaos in the beehive that is a busy restaurant dining room offers time for reflection. In those moments of aloneness, I can breathe in the sweat and struggles of the past and feel doubly blessed. Mornings alone in the restaurant are a constant reminder that I live in a country that allows me to own and operate a business with relative freedom.
One of the more memorable early mornings over the course of the past several years was a morning I spent on the newly built patio at Crescent City Grill. It was 10 months into the pandemic, and we were due to open the space that evening. I’m not quite sure what felt different about it. Maybe because it was that the space was conceived in a time of uncertainty— April 2020— the worst time in the history of the restaurant business to be in the restaurant business. Maybe it was due to the many challenges our teams had faced over the preceeding months, from an unprecedented and crippling labor crisis to skyrocketing food and supply costs.
Sitting there in that space, in that moment, all those troubles seemed a world away. What I felt in that moment was gratitude.
The secret to my success, to the degree that there has been any success, is that— for all these years— I have surrounded myself with people who are smarter and more talented than me.
That is who I was grateful for that morning. The ones who were in the trenches trying to hold together a 400+ person restaurant group during a global pandemic. The ones who continued to pick up shifts when team members were sick or hunkered down at home. The ones that helped me keep all the irons in the fire, and the ones who helped me create that awesome space.
It took a few years for us to figure out the proper use for that patio space. There were many times it felt like that empty New Orleans restaurant with a lone owner years ago. But through perseverance, dedication, and the commitment of our team it is now a packed and thriving space. It is where I sit this morning in the stillness of the early day feeling ever grateful and more blessed than I deserve.
Onward.
Crawfish Omelet with Horseradish Cream
Yield: 4 omelets
For the filling
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
½ cup diced yellow onion
⅓ cup diced red bell pepper
1 teaspoon minced garlic
2 teaspoons Creole Seasoning (page 195)
1 teaspoon kosher salt
½ pound crawfish tails
1 cup shredded pepper Jack cheese
Melt the butter in a medium skillet over medium heat. Stir in the onion and bell pepper and sauté for 3 to 4 minutes. Add the garlic, Creole Seasoning, and salt. Continue to cook for 2 minutes. Stir in the crawfish tails and cook for 2 more minutes, until the crawfish are thoroughly heated. Remove from the heat. Prepare the Horseradish Cream.
Horseradish Cream
1 cup sour cream
1 tablespoon mayonnaise
1 tablespoon prepared horseradish
¼ teaspoon kosher salt
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
½ teaspoon fresh lemon juice
1 tablespoon chopped fresh chives
Stir together all the ingredients in a small bowl. The sauce can be made in advance and stored, covered, in the refrigerator for up to 1 week.
For the omelets
12 large eggs
2 tablespoons water
2 tablespoons half-and-half
½ teaspoon kosher salt
4 teaspoons unsalted butter, for the pan
When making an omelet it’s always best to prepare the filling and the accompanying sauce first and set them aside to keep warm while you prepare the eggs. Once they are ready, follow the instructions for perfect omelets every time.
Whisk together eggs, water, and half-and-half until all the yolks are broken and there are no unbeaten sections of the egg whites. Try not to incorporate too much air. The eggs should be pale yellow and smooth.
For one omelet, Melt 1 teaspoon unsalted butter in a 7-inch nonstick skillet over medium-low heat. Swirl it around the surface of the skillet. Once the butter begins to bubble, the pan is ready to add the eggs (do not let the butter brown).
Add the egg mixture to the hot pan and gently swirl the pan so that the eggs cover the entire surface.
Using a heat-resistant spatula, pull the eggs toward the center of the pan and tilt the pan so
the uncooked eggs fall to the edges. Continue until the eggs are no longer liquid. The
surface will remain a little moist with a light sheen. Add salt and pepper to taste.
Fill one half of the omelet with the filling and fold over the opposite half as you slide the omelet onto a plate. Garnish, sauce, if using, and serve immediately.
Divide the filling and pepper Jack into 4 portions. Fill the omelets and top each with some of the Horseradish Cream (best if slightly warmed or brought to room temp).
(Robert St. John is a chef, restaurateur and published cookbook author who lives in Hattiesburg, Miss.)
