Photograph by Katherine Bish
In a time when restaurants are closing faster than a screen door in a windstorm, Christopher Lee is opening two in the same year. What does he know that the rest of the cognoscenti don't? How will he avoid becoming another ugly restaurant statistic? Is he a pie-eyed sophomore restaurateur with crazy dreams or a talented young chef with visionary ideas and a good investor? One look at the ultra-cozy side patio at his just opened New Orleans–themed Café Ventana suggests the latter. SLM sat down with him just to make sure.
So why open two restaurants now, in Midtown, several months apart? That's aggressive. I've been in the West End for nine years. I know the clientele. And the concepts are different, but affordable. Most importantly, I've gotten over myself. I've learned to simply give people what they want, not what I think they should eat.
Chefs don't often eat humble pie. It's one of the more important lessons I've learned. I also found that servers started selling my specials once I stopped yelling at them.
What makes Ventana special? The concept and look are unique in St. Louis. It looks like somebody uprooted a New Orleans café — a really nice one — and stuck it in Midtown.
Tell me about the next place, Tables on Lindell. [It occupies] three levels of the old Playboy building, four if you count the old Diamond Exchange vaults we may use for private dining. It's 18,000 square feet of restaurant.
I call that a mini-mall. Doesn't that scare you? There's a club upstairs, a microbrewery and a restaurant. The three levels will help it become what a restaurant is supposed to be: a restorative ... a place to eat, drink and hang out.
Will there be any signature items? Liver and onions.
Are you serious? Calves liver, bacon and onions. I couldn't take it off the menu anywhere I've been. One night, I went through two cases of liver, 36 orders. One chef I trained under told me he'd teach me how to make the best possible liver, and he did it.
Don't leave me with that... Seafood and game. The same chef — Jean Claude Guillossou, the guy who opened L'Auberge Bretonne in Clayton — lived in Africa and taught me all about game. I respected the guy so much I cut off my topknot just to work for him.
But does game sell in these parts? Sort of. People used to come in and say, “I don't like game,” which was my cue to give them some. Nine times out of 10, I'd sell them an order.
When did you first show an interest in cooking? When I was 10, I remember family parties where the kids could make their own pizzas using homemade salsiccia and pepperoni ... We got to make it and eat it. I thought, this is better than Play-Doh.
Did you ever consider chucking the whole thing? I stopped cooking to become a cable installer. I really like people, but not in their own homes. My father reminded me that I was wasting the 12 years I spent in the kitchen, six of them with acclaimed French chefs. I went to work at Kirk's, which turned into Mélange, and a year ago I beat out five guys from across the country for the opportunity to open Ventana and Tables.
That's right ... you and your family owned Mélange. What happened there? The biggest thing for me was hip surgery that caused me to miss six months' work. It forced me to just stop and focus. The long hours can wash over you — I was working 80 to 100 a week — and consume your life. That surgery allowed me to realize there was life outside Mélange.
That could change quickly — you're opening two new restaurants. Yeah, but only one at a time.
