What it's really like to open a restaurant

The good, the bad, and the assumptions....

Marhaba! Hello……

I realize it’s been a minute, but it hasn’t been until this morning that I’ve felt mentally clear enough to write about much of anything, so consuming has opening my collaboration with Wild Jordan been. And while it hasn’t been boring, I’ve had a sort of single-minded focus on it which feels like it excludes almost everything else. However, some trends are becoming apparent in my journey to opening my own restaurant here in Amman, for which I’m so thankful to the gentleman who gave me the opportunity for this test-drive of my concept over the Summer. Overall, the reception to my menu has been overwhelmingly positive. I’ve had lovely interactions with customers who’ve been surprised by my use of local ingredients and others who have said to me that it’s the best food they’ve tasted in Jordan. My initial recipe for Charred Eggplant Linguini was falling flat so I had a rethink and the makdous (little pickled eggplants stuffed with walnut, chili, and garlic) in my fridge called out to me. Now my linguini dish has a bit more zing, it’s filled with something unexpected (makdous is normally associated with breakfast here) and it’s getting raves.

Meanwhile, I’m not getting enough sleep, and the sleep I’m getting isn’t great (according my watch). The morning hours when I’m usually my most productive are spent trying to conserve my energy for the evening ahead in a complete upending of my natural body rhythms. Often at noon I find myself dozing off but with a pit of anxiety in my stomach that I won’t wake up in time for my 3pm start. Most days I go in much before 3pm because I want some time in the kitchen before my team shows up to get tedious tasks out of the way. There’s been a shouting match with a manager over spoons and a stern talking to one of my chefs for sulking after he was reprimanded. My diet has deteriorated, I wake up screaming when my calfs cramp in my sleep from being on my feet most of the day, I have an underlying feeling of dread most mornings, and my cats are wondering why I’m never home any more. All of that said, I’m really loving it! Last week I was feeling great about the whole experience, understanding it’s all part of the process, truly grateful while giving my team high fives for producing high quality dishes in our challenging circumstances. Sharing a kitchen with another restaurant is hard. I am a guest in another chef’s kitchen. I keep thinking to myself, if I’m able to do this quality of work in these conditions, surely having my own kitchen and staff will make my vision come true.

While one woman gave me goosebumps when she told me that my food tasted so new to her and fresh…but it was also familiar. This is my goal! Another diner sort of passive aggressively told her followers on Instagram how much she loved it when foreigners came here and did things with the local food….and then told the PR team on the side that really they would have done better by having me collaborate with a Jordanian chef. “The freekeh should be creamy.” “The maftoul more Moroccan.” “I want a steak with a creamy mushroom sauce!” These are the trials of opening a restaurant anywhere, I’ve experienced it repeatedly while consulting at places, but when the food is more personal and distinctly mine, it smarts more.

I think many of the people coming to dine assume I’m an American chef who has just shown up here for the Summer (they always ask if I actually live here) and am using their ingredients willy nilly and without context. In fact, I’ve been lucky enough to live and cook in this region for nearly a decade and been married to a Jordanian for longer than that. While I’ve lived here I’ve enjoyed visiting producers, farmers, and chefs to learn about the heritage and provenience of local ingredients and recipes. I have Aunties and cousins who have handed down their food traditions which I proudly carry with me as a precious gift. I produced a cookbook about the recipes and stories of women across Lebanon, traveling around that country to tell the stories of female culinary pioneers while celebrating the diversity of the country. So no, I’m not of this place. I’ve never claimed to be, but I’ve done a lot of work to try and deeply understand the amazing food of this place and I am careful to give credit to where I get my inspiration, while doing my very best not to tread on traditions. While in South Africa I had a very clever restaurant PR guru (she managed Jamie Oliver for years) tell me that I needed to create “permissions” in my story, explain why I was “allowed” to share my food stories. I get it, but it’s been frustrating to feel, much like I am at the Wild Jordan kitchen right now, that I am but a guest in a place I very much call home.

ON MY RADAR

Oh my goodness have some of the things I was looking forward to flopped! I’m sorry for any recommendations I gave that you similarly found disappointing. I persevered with Ruth Reichl’s The Paris Novel but found it very poorly written and such an odd story. And don’t even get me started on Andrew McCarthy’s documentary Brats! A more self-serving, whining piece of film I don’t think I’ve ever seen. Jenn Romolini wrote about it on her Extended Scenes Substack and said everything I wanted to say about it with some pithy wisdom thrown in: “As much as I felt annoyed by Brats, I was grateful for it too. McCarthy’s whinefest landed at the perfect time to serve as a cautionary tale; to mirror back exactly how I hope to never be about whatever it is I’m lucky enough to achieve.”

Speaking of Jenn Romolini, I’m currently reading her memoir, Ambition Monster which I caught on to from her piece in the New York Times about having a difficult childhood making her a fabulous employee which spoke to me a great deal. I started listening to her and Kim France’s podcast Everything is Fine, and find myself thinking about roads not taken. Jenn and Kim (founder of Lucky Magazine, RIP) inhabit a world of American literati and culture that I was once on track to be part of until I took a sharp left turn. It’s so interesting to hear them talk about their lives, work, and aspirations as I can imagine that’s where I might have ended up. It’s not that I want that life, it’s just a curious kind of Sliding Doors situation that makes me grateful for being exactly where I am (not throwing shade).

Not sure if I’m loving The Bear season 3….it could be that it’s all hitting a little close to home, but the first episode was a true love letter to restaurant cooking at a level that made me nostalgic for something more than the kitchen I’m currently in and able to strive for a level above where I currently find myself. There’s also an article in the LA Times about the series which spoke to the anxieties I feel as I’m creating food and sharing it with the public (which all probably comes back around to what I wrote about above and a good therapist is likely needed):

I want to do it but I can’t. OK, I can but what if it’s not any good? It’s good but what if people don’t like it? People like it but what if they don’t like it enough? What is enough? Certainly not “good.” No, it needs to be great. Stop telling me it’s great, you don’t understand greatness, it needs to be better. I’m so tired but put that down because you won’t do it right and it needs to be beyond great. It needs to be perfect. So perfect that time stops and it’s only me up here on top of this verifiably perfect thing and maybe then the voices in my head will finally run out of terrible things to say.

WHAT TO COOK NOW

Cook it all! What a glorious season it is to actually not cook a thing and rely on the ingredients to shine. Try my cold Shamam (melon) soup with Olive Relish during the next heatwave, serve it up with a Fig Flatbread with a Preserved Lemon Labneh that you’ve perhaps cooked on the grill? Grab a whole fish and wrap it in fig leaves and cook it on your grill for a subtly scented delicious piece of Summer. And finally, there’s nothing more refreshing that fetteh, a cold yogurt based dish with crispy bread. My recipe has you making it with fried eggplant and peaches and a preserved lemon vinaigrette that I think is really special. I urge you to give it a go!

More culinary conversations coming your way soon…..

xx CSJ

There are a million newsletters out there, so I really appreciate the fact that you’re reading mine. If you want to show your support, please sign up for a free subscription.