Photography by Kevin A. Roberts
At times, even the easy parts of the restaurant business can be difficult. Apparently, some of chef Ben Anderson’s customers had a hard time pronouncing the names of his first two restaurants, Canoe and Gist. The 41-year-old chef sold his first restaurant impulsively, in 2008; the second, he closed intentionally last year. His third foray, opening this summer at 5400 Nottingham in Southampton, is a locally sourced wine bar and restaurant called Grapeseed, an easy concept to comprehend—and hopefully to pronounce.
In 2003, you graduated from the Culinary Institute of America, regarded by many as the nation's best culinary school.
It was—and still is—a serious endeavor, an accelerated curriculum, 8 to 5 every day for two-plus years. Each class ran every day for three weeks, so if you missed a class, you were out—you had to take that class over. For a lot of students, back then, it was closer to a three-year program, if they stuck with it. The experience was invaluable, though. It was like a college fraternity: I got to meet people from across the country, connections I wouldn’t have made at many other schools.
What about externships? CIA grads always seem to end up at famous restaurants.
Externships are tricky. You can go to the French Laundry, for example, but you won’t be on the cooking line. Bragging rights only go so far; I know guys that picked fruit. It depends on what you want from the externship: the Thomas Keller, super-name restaurant on your resume or the unknown place where you got working experience. My advice is to shoot somewhere in the middle. I ended up doing my externship with Melissa Kelly at Primo [in Rockland, Maine.]. She graduated from the CIA, believed in the program, and recruited actively from the school.
You’ve had several restaurant stops on your way to Grapeseed. Which was your favorite?
Cardwell’s sticks in my mind. Bill [Cardwell] was intense, a taskmaster. Rob Uyemura from YiaYia’s stands out too, but he’s laid back, the opposite of Bill.
So which kind of chef are you?
I’m right in the middle. It takes me a long time to blow…but I do blow. But I’m 40 now, the older generation, if you will. My chef de cuisine Jon [Olson], is 30. I like to say he’s from the “time-out” generation. You have to treat younger personalities differently than. That generation doesn’t like to be yelled at; they don’t react well to that at all.
Your first restaurant, Canoe Regional American Fare in St. Charles, was well-received.
And if I were to do all over again, I probably would not have sold it. The place was successful, and I got offered a decent amount of money for it. At the end of a string of 16-hour days, it looked better than decent.
So then did you say, “I’m ready for a desk job”?
No, I began selling for US Foods, but it was the wrong fit for me. I was being asked to sell to bars and grills—a lower tier than selling to chefs—which is why I thought I got hired. But that’s how those mainline hierarchies work… I just didn’t know that.
And then there was the country club in Hillsboro [Illinois].
Do you mean “my misadventure of maximum proportions”? I thought it was my business to run—which it was—and the members thought it was theirs. So one guy would borrow this, another would take that, all because they paid dues and were therefore entitled… There were 100 members with almost as many visions of what the food service there should be.
Talk about your last restaurant, Gist. Did you find yourself explaining that name?
I liked the word. I liked the connotations in regards to food. But I was amazed how many people pronounced it Gist with a hard “g.” When I heard who I thought were knowledgeable people mispronounce it over and over again, I knew I was in trouble. I began to rethink my entire existence. Then I remembered the night I picked up the phone at Canoe, and the guy said, “Good evening. Is this ka-NOW-ee?”
How did the reality of Gist differ from your expectations?
Looking back, I think it was like a rebound relationship: I jumped into it too soon, before fully thinking it through.
What did you do at Gist that you will absolutely do again?
We are committed to locally sourcing what we serve. At Canoe, we wanted to do it, but were so busy that we ran our local sources dry. There are more local options now. That part has become easier.
In hindsight, how important is a restaurant’s visibility?
Big-time important. Being in a strip mall was an attraction, but chain restaurants in the same center also made our little place a distraction. I prefer being somewhat independent and by myself—like Canoe was and like Grapeseed is. I was able to buy the building, which is huge. Plus, I live upstairs.
So will it be possible to take time off and relax upstairs when the restaurant is open?
No way. But being open for dinner only—plus Saturday lunch and Sunday brunch—allows for some time off. [He smiles.] Or that’s what I’ve been told.
Gist was an American bistro. Why did you abandon such a popular concept?
We didn’t, really. American food has so many influences now that chefs now have more of a canvas. And customers seem to be OK with fewer boundaries and less pigeonholing. So if Grapeseed wants to do something for, say, Cinco de Mayo, that’s totally fine. It is necessary, however, to lower price points. For any quality-driven establishment, that means smaller plates, smaller servings.
So what is Grapeseed’s price point?
Four to five dollars and up to $15. Some entrees will have to be more expensive.
Most restaurants hold their own on weekend nights. How do you build weeknight business?
Just being open on Tuesday isn’t much of a draw. Restaurants need to do targeted, themed events—entertainment, food specials, focused dinners, collaborative dinners with our neighbors like Russell’s and The Mack—to lure people in. Things like that.
Grapeseed is a chef-driven—but affordable--wine bar. Is that too simplistic a statement?
It’s close. With a name like Grapeseed, you’ll assume there will be wine. To add another layer to it, I’d say we’re neighborhood-driven, much in the same way as Three Flags Tavern or The Purple Martin. Restaurants must dial into the neighborhood first. Other customers will follow.
You chose a proprietor’s, rather than a chef’s, role at Grapeseed. Why?
It’s more like chef/owner. Jon is the chef de cuisine. I’ll collaborate with him, as we’ve done in the past.
Would you ever pull a Paul Manno, Jr., and actually wait on tables?
Sure. I’ve done it in the past, and people love it. And who knows more about the food than the chef, right?
Grapeseed will have a scratch kitchen, correct?
Breads, cheeses—we’re buying a $2,000 pasta machine. Jon knows fish butchery from his days at Erato. We’ll do everything but break out the band saw.
Will prior menu successes reappear at Grapeseed? Gist’s pork chop was particularly memorable.
John’s pastas are great. Gist's shrimp and grits will reappear, but that pork chop was a boat. For this restaurant, a smaller version is in order. We’ll have a signature burger—it comes with the territory. Ours will be a better burger, but it’ll be priced like one from a bar and grill.
Half-price happy hours are popular. Will Grapeseed jump into that pool?
Heck yes. When I was in Illinois, happy hours were illegal, so why not take full advantage of a state that’s a little more Wild West with its alcohol legislation? If it’s something that can be used to get people in the door, use it. Play that card.
Grapeseed is a neighborhood place. Will it have communal tables?
That word has a bad connotation in some markets. We have a few big tables. Call them either eight-tops or gathering tables. Just don’t call them “communal.”
There are patios in front and back.
The one in front is a magnet for passersby. The one in back is larger and enclosed, with a little garden. It’s a huge benefit to have both.
Describe the wine program.
I’d call it super-affordable. There will be glasses from $6 to $10 and bottles from $25 to $50, most of them in the $25 to $35 range.
Is there a role for beer in the new venture?
Even though our name is Grapeseed, I don’t want the connotation to be “wine bar only,” so we’ll have five local beers on draft and a cooler full of mainly craft bottles. But we will carry Budweiser. It’s such a generic—especially in this neighborhood—it would be shortsighted not to carry it. It’s like the places that sell only craft sodas—they get a request for Coke and spend undue time explaining why they don’t carry it. Same difference. Just have some on hand, already.
How about cocktails?
Same thing there: craft cocktails, local products. In food, I want a broader scope; with cocktails, the opposite. This is not a “shots” bar.
Chefs have great customer stories. Do you have one?
One time, at Canoe, I was dressed down by a woman who insisted our award-winning crab cakes did not contain real crab... I left the table, trying to figure out how I could please the woman, and then saw her plate go whizzing past my head, followed by, “And you can take that with you.” Luckily, there was no one seated where that plate landed.
Another time, a photographer was there taking pictures, and a customer threatened to tell the reviewer how lousy the place was unless I comped him a bottle of wine—which I reluctantly did, pouring three-fourths of a bottle into a balloon wine goblet, just to shut the guy up. I found out later that he was a professional shake-down artist.
Those are great stories.
One day at Gist, our supplier was out of greens. So naturally, a customer wanted a salad “just like the one at The Pasta House.” We ran to the grocery store and bought what we needed to make that happen. The guy got what he wanted, but didn’t get the gist of what we were doing at Gist.
What aspect of the business are you a real stickler for?
Cleanliness. It was pounded into me at the CIA and then in Bill Cardwell’s kitchen, the cleanest commercial kitchen I’ve ever worked in.
What about Facebook and Twitter? Both are invaluable to a new restaurant.
It’s interesting. I see more industry people on Twitter and therefore fewer negative comments about restaurants. On Facebook, it’s another story. There is often a lot more negative criticism than positive.
What are your two favorite sandwich shops?
Joyia’s and Vinnie’s. You can’t go wrong at either place.
Is there any concept that’s been overplayed in St. Louis?
Barbeque is getting close. This city is cuckoo for barbeque, but there’s gotta be a ceiling somewhere.
Do you have a favorite spice?
Chinese Five Spice. We plan to use it for a popular dish that we did at Canoe: a spice-encrusted salmon with a tamarind glaze and Thai-style noodles. Why that particular dish caught fire in St. Charles, I’m really not sure.
How about a least favorite spice?
Celery seed, because it gets stuck in your teeth. When I find some in coleslaw, I just wish it wasn’t there.
What’s your favorite tool in your home kitchen?
A commercial panini grill can do some serious damage late at night.
Do you have any hobbies?
Mountain bikes and skateboards—not the trick boards so much, but the long boards, the commuter boards, the cruiser boards. It’s an art form; there’s a lot of personal expression. It’s also possible that I just never grew up.
In your next life, what would you do?
I’d be a professional skateboarder. Tour the world and make millions in video game sales? Heck yeah.
