This One Time, at Restaurant Camp...

First, some background:

Spring break was approaching, and I wanted to try something new. I emailed a friend who'd moved to Amelia Island to start a restaurant, bought a plane ticket, and two weeks later debarked at Jacksonville Airport. Scotty's restaurant was not yet open, due to the delays that seem to be inherent in historic districts, but he'd farmed me out to his friend, Chef Richard Grove, at PLaE. PLaE is an acronym for People Laughing and Eating; it's received a great deal of favorable press (go here, here, and here). I also got to witness firsthand the minutiae of opening a restaurant, hanging out with Scotty and Mardie (his GM, and Richard's girlfriend). This is an account of my time there.




Day One:



Shortly after Scotty and I arrived at his restaurant, Richard rode up on his motorcycle. We shook hands and he said that he had some "fun" things planned for me, with a smile that implied that we might have differing opinions on what exactly "fun" entailed.




Most of the morning was spent editing the server training packet, including the wine list descriptions, the menu descriptions and the server's manual. I hadn't edited anything but schoolwork in awhile, and for a moment I got just a little nostalgic for the old office job (selling restaurant equipment).




At about noon, we undertook the most serious responsibility of a restaurateur: wine tasting. The wine rep arrived with a winery rep, and we tasted about six wines, including an old vines Syrah. Three stood out: a light-bodied white that I believe was a Fume Blanc, a red table wine, and a Cabernet that was more tannic than any I'd tasted before. I tend to stay away from tannic wines, but I was surprised to find that I didn't mind the heavy tannins. Go here for information about the wines, sold at Viola in Decatur (full disclosure: this shop is owned by a family friend).




Lunch followed, then a little more time at the restaurant. Afterwards, I took out Scotty's bike and did little exploring, annoying the locals. I am not an accomplished cyclist. We met up after an Historical Development Committee meeting; Scotty, who came to Amelia expecting to live a reasonably quiet life with his restaurant has found himself embroiled in island politics: he's attempting to build a condo behind his restaurant and had to get approval for the building height. Many people signed a against approving the building plans, despite the fact that the building height will be within the zoning requirements. One of the signatures? his girlfriend.


We went out to a few bars. I was amazed at how quiet Amelia Island was. I walked from one bar to another for a Red Bull, without telling anyone where I was going (bad city-dweller!). I felt like a rebel, but very few people were out, and no one bothered me.




By the way, the best part of the evening? Getting an after-hours tour of a store called the Snack Shack, newly relocated and expanded. The amount and types of food, drinks, and nostalgic candy paraphenalia (current want: a moon pie throw pillow) was staggering, as was the proprietors' expertise and the amount of work that went into finding much of the wares. We sampled flavored Tootsie Rolls and we each got a Cherry Mash, a seriously old-school Southern confection made of chocolate, ground peantus, and cherry nougat. It's about the size of a racquetball, and I was a little too intimidated to dive into mine immediately. The phrase "kid in a candy store" was appropriate more than once. I only wish I had a picture of Snack Shack Jack, the fiberglass mascot for the store, who has an ass that many a round-posteriored starlet would envy.