Robinson Crusoe

My father had an expression for when mum was pulling her hair out, fed up with the drudge of raising four young children or when one of us was struggling with exams or a broken heart. He'd say “You’re not Robinson Crusoe”. It became one of those well worn expressions that I didn’t really give much thought to at the time but had a vague sense that Dad was trying to be comforting, telling us that we weren’t the only person experiencing whatever difficulties we were going through. We weren’t castaways like Robinson Crusoe, alone on an island.

Dad's words popped into my head again as I read Emily Kerrigan’s article in this month’s Olive Magazine about six people (including me) who have changed careers and started up food related businesses.
Before the interview, we were all asked to think of five things that we wished someone had told us before we started our businesses- what we’d learned, mistakes we’d made along the way. I was the last person Emily interviewed and as we spoke she commented on the fact that there were many similarities in what we had each told her: be patient and remain positive through the times when business is slow; be prepared to be flexible and adapt if things don’t work; trust your instincts and keep faith in what you are doing; and learn from the mistakes you make.

Last night as I read through the stories in the article I felt incredibly comforted that, even though I didn't know it at the time, I had not been alone. While I was getting Lantana started, there were many others experiencing the same doubts, frustrations, long hours, and highs and lows that I was.

So I’m adding one more piece of advice to anyone who is starting up their own business:
Don't feel that you are going through this alone. You're not Robinson Crusoe.

The blogger leading the blogger

Food bloggers are usually elusive creatures. They come into the café, sit quietly, intently observe their surroundings, take photos of everything that is put in front of them, then retreat to their computers where they blog about their experience, letting their opinions be known to the entire world under some clever nom de plume (like say, Scrambling Eggs). The first I learn of their visit is when I stumble across their blog (if googling “Lantana cafe review” constitutes stumbling) by which time they are long gone and I unsuccessfully try to put a face to the blogger based on what they have written. You can guarantee if you forget someone’s side of bacon, or sit them on a wobbly chair, they will be a god damn food blogger.

Herein lies the frustration for restaurateurs. Unlike many well established restaurant reviewers like Fay Maschler, Giles Coren, AA Gill and Jay Rayner, who can be spotted immediately thanks to the photographs published beside their reviews, food bloggers are able to preserve their anonymity with the best disguises in the world. They look like IT programmers, graphic designers, students and accountants because often this is what they are from 9 to 5. By night and on the weekend they are bloggers, finding a creative outlet through the keyboard and connecting with other people who share their passion for food.

While food bloggers may not have the culinary expertise or writing skills of professional food critics, their ability to dine anonymously and receive non-sycophantic treatment gives their experience as an average diner an authenticity that well known restaurant reviewers have lost. Ruth Reichel, when she was the restaurant reviewer for the New York Times, famously wrote 2 reviews of a well known French Restaurant in New York. One was how she was treated when they did recognise her and the other when they didn’t because she was in disguise. The difference was enormous and demonstrated that restaurant reviewers’ experience of a restaurant is not necessarily authentic or useful to the average punter who is not going to receive special treatment.

So I was quite surprised the other day when one food blogger, known only to me as Catty, asked to do a video interview with me for her blog.

What? In the open? Face to face? At last, I got to meet one of these bloggers who will never be able to dine anonymously at Lantana again.



Funnily enough, since Catty posted this video on her blog I can now spot food bloggers more easily because they’re the ones ordering and photographing baked eggs.

Photo courtesy of Tummyrumble.

Cafe's: Dens of innovation OR Starbucks: where it went wrong

The other night I went to hear Brian Eno and Steven Johnson give a talk at the ICA about technical innovation. Of all the things I thought I would learn that night, I did not expect to discover that I am in fact facilitating innovation. I am providing the environment and the drug for new ideas to flourish.

The legacy of coffee houses as connective hubs and incubators of innovation goes back to the 17^th century. After the Great Fire of 1666 while the Royal Exchange was being rebuilt, coffee houses became de facto trading houses (one of which became Lloyds of London). People from all walks of life would sit at communal tables and talk, sharing ideas and engaging in political and intellectual debate. And unlike taverns, which for centuries had been the place to socialise and do business, the drug being abused at coffee houses was a stimulant rather than a depressant - much more conducive to innovation.

When I worked on innovation policy in my public service days it always felt a bit trite to suggest that putting a café in the foyer of shared office spaces would encourage entrepreneurs from different disciplines to meet, exchange ideas, collaborate and innovate.

But now I see it first hand everyday with our regulars and customers at Lantana. From the organised meetings like Cwoffee (a changing collection of planners and ad people who meet fortnightly), to the freelancers and start ups who use Lantana as a temporary office space (hey Moolis), to the workers in the areas (predominantly in creative industries like advertising, media, restaurants and design) who come to Lantana for a coffee or lunch break, there is constant networking, animated conversation and information exchange. Customers discuss bands and the news with the staff and strangers start talking to each other in the queue as they wait for takeaway coffee or as they sit together at communal tables. There’s a creative buzz - fuelled by caffeine.

And this leads me to Starbucks. Which is what I originally wanted to write a blog post about as for some time I’ve been thinking about it’s ‘demise’ and what it means for cafes in general. It is easy to say that Starbucks is suffering because it serves crap coffee and isn’t cool. But there has to be more to it than that. Doesn’t there? There is plenty of crap served in this town in uncool places and they are still doing business as usual.

What is interesting is that over the past year or so while Starbucks has been feeling the squeeze, London has seen a number of new independent cafes emerge and prosper.



Two of the three ‘underperforming’ Starbucks stores that have closed in London are in very close proximity to two of these independent cafes – Taylor St Baristas near Spitalfield Markets and us, Lantana in Fitzrovia.

Sure, this could be a coincidence but even Starbucks is not so quick to dismiss their small indie competitors with plans to ‘debrand’ some of the Starbucks stores to make them feel less homogenous and bland.

This proliferation of independent cafes is being labelled the third wave of coffee, which, as Gwilym Davies, current World Barista Champion is quoted as saying, is ”all very uncorporate”. Its about passion, freshness, sourcing the best coffee beans and extracting the best flavour.

I agree, it is about the coffee, but more importantly, its about the coffee house culture that independents create. With their eclectic furnishings, unpolished finish and other idiosyncracies they provide environments which are creative, quirky and unique. They reflect the peculiarities and passions of the owner and the local community.

Taste of Bitter Love near Columbia Rd Flower Market

Tina We Salute You in Dalston keep track of their loyal customers on their cafe wall

This is why it all went wrong for Starbucks. They reduced coffee to a commodity and forgot about their customers and the coffee house culture. Carloyn Steel said it well in her book Hungry City “Starbucks outlets are stage sets, designed by marketing executives thousands of miles away to appeal to our fantasy metro-chic lifestyles. Add a mouse with big ears, and you might as well be drinking in Disneyland.”

Long live good coffee and the dens of innovation.

The international language of gastronomy

Ah C'est bon vacance en France.

How could it not be? Cocooned in a tiny medieval village in the Perigord region of Southwest France, it was 6 days of eating and sleeping, a castle here, a glass of vin de Cahors there, eating, sleeping, eating, eating, eating, sleeping, eating, eating, eating...

With such amazing gastronomic inspiration surrounding me in the boucheries

boulangeries

fromageries
and even on the roadsideries

I couldn't resist spending some of my holiday doing a little cooking too.

Buying ingredients at the markets and in the shops was fairly unproblematic (and entertaining for the locals) using my basic French with lots of pointing and miming - flapping my arms and slapping my bottom for various cuts of meat. But one day my charades a francais failed me and a request for speck was met with a blank look from the butcher.

How do you say speck in french? "Jambon fume?" "Jambon avec sel?" Apparently not. I was starting to get a little stressed as a queue of customers was forming behind me so in a desperate plea I said "pour coq au vin!"

"Ahhhh lardons!" was the relieved chorus from the other customers as the butcher produced a magnificent slab of fatty bacon. The woman behind me then proceeded to instruct me to cut thick slices: "epais- non fine pour coq au vin". I was patted on the back and wished "bonne chance" as I left the shop. I hope I did the residents of Monpazier proud with my 3 course menu a la Perigord.

Grilled goat's cheese with honeyed walnuts for entree


Coq au vin (avec lardons) for plat principal


and Monpazier Mess for dessert


One thing I won't miss about France is the coffee.

Quelle merde. An opportunity for La Lantana en Perigord?

Recipe for Coq au Vin (Serves 6)

6 chicken pieces (leg and breast pieces)
200g speck cut into thick slices
2 cloves garlic crushed
50ml brandy or cognac
1/4 cup plain flour
200g eschalots
1 tablespoons castor sugar
50g butter
1+1/2 tablespoons vegetable oil
450g button mushrooms

Marinade
2 x 750ml bottles shiraz or burgandy
2 carrots sliced
1 onion sliced
3 cloves garlic crushed
12 black peppercorns
2 bay leaves
8 sprigs thyme

Combine all marinade ingredients, add chicken, cover and marinate in fridge overnight.

Remove chicken from marinade, pat dry with paper towels.

Strain marinade into saucepan (reserve marinade), bring to boil, then strain.
Heat large casserole over medium heat, add speck and cook for 8 minutes until speck is golden. Drain on paper towels. In same pan, brown chicken in batches. Remove from pan.

Add reserved solids and crushed garlic to pan and stir ocassionally for 8 minutes. Add brandy and ignite with a match, then stir in flour. Gradually add marinade, return chicken to pan and bring to a simmer. Reduce heat to low, cover and cook for 1 and a half hours until chicken is very tender.

Meanwhile place eschalots in a pan with castor sugar, 20g butter, 125ml water and a large pinch of salt. Bring to boil over high heat, then reduce to low and simmer until liquid is nearly all evaporated and syrupy and onions are lightly golden. Heat remaining 30g butter and oil in large fry pan, dd mushrooms and cook, tossing for 3 minutes until golden. Season.

To serve, stir speck, onions, mushrooms and steamed baby carrots into coq au vin and scatter with parsley.

Head Chef Lisa's story: From little crumbs, big crumbs grow

A week ago Shelagh, our manager, boss, and part owner asked me to write a chef profile about myself. How indulgent I thought. So here goes, my wonderful five minutes of fame.

Firstly let me introduce myself. My name is Lisa Creigh, a chef from Newcastle N.S.W. Australia. I have been cooking professionally for 12 years now. I am 29 and love it as much as I did that first day. My days in the kitchen however go right back...

Lisa's early days in the kitchen crumbing fish. She's never lost her love of crumbing.

Since the age of four I have been in the kitchen, under my mum’s feet. I was the youngest of six and never went to play group. Instead, my mum (who was a stay at home mother spending many hours in the kitchen, aka domestic goddess) and I would spend many hours together cooking up a storm to impress my father and elder brothers and sisters. I would crush cookies, crumb fish, whisk eggs, and sift flour (the way you used to by putting the flour in the can and cranking the handle). If ever I was in the way, flour and warm water would be mixed together in a bowl to form a dough by my mother and I would happily sit at the table and play quietly until I would be needed again. Mum would tell me stories of my Nan being a great cook, how she could do all of her baking “by feel”, in other words a squeeze of the dough, a flick of the wrist, a pinch of this and a dash of that and it would all come together beautifully. All I remember is Nan’s amazing roast dinner on the farm.

Growing up, food was always a part of me. I tried my first oyster mornay at the age of eight. It made my older brother squirm. I loved it. My dad and I would go out fishing on his boat and we would have it fresh for dinner that night. I was ordering three courses from a very early age whenever we went out for a meal. It usually went something like deep fried Camembert with cranberry sauce, chicken breast stuffed and wrapped in proscuitto, and can you believe, chocolate fudge cake for dessert. Yum! Now can someone please roll me out the door.

This love of being in the heart of the kitchen (the place were everyone gathers to share stories, indulge, and create) has carried right through my schooling to a professional level. Studying Hospitality in my senior years during high school pushed me forward towards the all powerful chef certificate, or should I say chef ticket (insert cheesy grin). A ticket to experiencing great food and wine, cultures, people, and places. The biggest influence in my training came from a Melbourne Chef, Robert Brown, working for him in Newcastle. His training was hard discipline, but with a great understanding of ingredients, flavours, and a creativity ahead of others in my hometown. At the time it was modern Australian, (predominately seafood with Asian influences). It was privilege to train under Robert.

At the age of 20 I had my qualifications, got a working visa and went to Canada, to the mountain-tops of Whistler B.C. I worked at a Golf Club with Gerry Brandon (a brilliant chef) for the summer, and at La Rua restaurant (no. two for fine dining in Whistler that year) for the winter. I was in charge of the Garde manger section, preparing and serving delicious duck confit and cranberry parcels, Foie gras with chanterelle mushrooms, and other delicate morsels of goodness. After my part was done I would go over and volunteer with the friendly pastry chefs, learning all of their amazing dessert tricks. I would do the kitchen’s fish mongering as well, sometimes filleting Halibut almost as big as myself. Serving 350 covers a night fine dinning, while snowboarding in to work. Yes life was amazing. Since I was 14 it was my goal to be a chef in Canada by the time I was 21. I did it.

After that I landed back in Sydney starting afresh again, staying in fine dining a little while, then made a move to Riminis cafe and bar; an establishment with a very creative Head chef, Alec Bird, who had a few awards under his belt, best café etc. It was here that the next level of Sous chef came along for me. In the kitchen you are many things, sometimes teacher, counselor, creative cook, health and safety chief, caffeine addict. From that point food took me to Brisbane, Q.L.D, back to Newcastle, fine dining, shelling 3kg of fresh crab for hand made linguini to delicious breakfasts at amazing cafes.

Then the opportunity came for me to be Head chef at a soon to be Gastro Style pub called the Albion Hotel. Finally the chance for it to be mine! Well this job at the Albion Hotel was the chance of a life time. I was able to experience a kitchen from scratch, from plumbing, 3 faze power plugs, buying equipment and crockery, to a menu that was all mine. Mind you, we had inherited a lot of old grease so I scrubbed the place for three days solid to remove the grease before one lovely vegetable was allowed to come into the kitchen. Within six months the establishment was booming. We found it hard to keep up, but keep up we did with a few more recruits.

This gave me the opportunity to come to London and to Europe and its wonderful produce. When I read Shelagh’s ad on Gumtree for the position to start up Lantana as Head chef, I was so excited. Shelagh is a dedicated food lover and epicurist just like me. She has established a place that prides itself on great coffee, fresh seasonal produce, making everything in house and being as eco- friendly as possible including all of our suppliers. I knew this was the job for me.

First of all I love breakfast, always have. It’s the start of a new day and we want that start to be the best it can be. The toast all buttery soft and hot, the eggs warm and sexy, running all over the place (of course that is if you like it like that), and the smell and taste of English bacon, one of my top loves of England. Thank you H.G Walters which was my local butcher, and now Lantana’s. La Fromagerie’s incredible cheeses...and let’s not forget the coffee… amazing. There is so much to love about this great little café.

But my role could not be performed with out my team in the kitchen Megan Noonan ( Sous Chef aka Baking Goddess), Becky Davy, and Slimane. Thanks for all your endless hard work.

Lisa and sous chef Megan, Lantana's own Statler and Waldorf.

Winners are grinners

Thank you to everyone who helped us become TimeOut's

Slightly skew wiff victory shot using the self timer

Coffee Out: Copenhagen

When I went to Copenhagen a couple of weekends ago it seemed I’d arrived in a magical land where everything runs efficiently, people are happy and suntanned, the footpaths are paved with bicycles instead of dog turd,

the architecture is stunning,

and a handsome Prince turned an Australian called Mary into a Princess.

What would the coffee be like in this fairy tale kingdom?

The first thing that struck me after London was the absence of the big coffee chains. For some reason Starbucks has not made it further than the airport in Copenhagen. Baresso looks like the Danish equivalent but they are far outnumbered by independent cafes.

I was expecting great things but unfortunately a good coffee isn't as easy to find as ridiculously friendly people are in Copenhagen. I did manage to track down a couple of little café gems thanks to recommendations on this website and the trusty Wallpaper City Guide.

Sweet Treat, Sankt Annæ Gade 3A

Sweet Treat serves a macchiato in a designer crinkled porcelain cup- love the Danish.

Estate Coffee, Gammel Kongevej 1, which feels a bit like a coffee chain

with its pictures of coffee plants on the wall,

but actually serves a really good coffee.

Estate's piccolo

Saving the best until last, Granola, Værnedamsvej 5

where I drooled over the 1930s industrial furniture and the beautiful spacious shop counter... but not granola which they don't have on the menu. Odd. Obviously I need to be a bit more lateral.

Granola's double macchiato