Columns

By Debbie Lindsey

Why We Must Support Our Restaurants

Anyone living here—in fact, anyone who has ever vacationed here— knows the economic impact that our restaurants, cafés, food markets, popups, food trucks, breweries, and bars make upon New Orleans. And this is not merely a New Orleans thing. Cities and towns na tionwide are fully aware now, if not before, just how much local economies depend upon the food-and-beverage industry. Be fore COVID-19, the U.S. restaurant industry accounted for 15.6 million employees, and the pre-COVID-19 projected sales for 2020 were poised at $899 million. That’s a lot of income for a whole lot of people. But it ain’t gonna happen now.

Of course, there are many restaurants and bars reopening right now, as I sit and write this. But these are businesses that, even on a good day, always face fear of failure. There are simply no guarantees in this industry, and now, all bets are off. And the more I learn and listen about the “between a rock and a hard place” that restaurant and bar owners are finding themselves in regarding the PPP loans, the tougher things are going to be. For the government loans to be forgiven, the employer must use 75 percent of the loan for payroll. But what if the workers are unable to return due to health concerns or simply because they cannot live on the poor hourly wages and, for now, the severely reduced tips? It takes lots of cus tomers to make those tips occur. Waiters generally are paid $2.13 hourly, and even if the PPP loans allow compensation for lost tips, I doubt it could equal the actual tips formerly earned, prior to the pan demic shutdown.

It is a fact that the industry has never been set up to take proper responsibility for its workers. But with that said, there are many good, fair-minded owners, and I, personally, have enjoyed the better part of 40-plus years working for such own ers in this industry. I even enjoyed working for tips. But now, currently employed and/or unemployed food-and-beverage hospitality workers are falling between the cracks. Those very generously enhanced unemployment checks are about to run out, and if they return to work, they lose it, and if they don’t return to work, they lose it! And all our food-and-beverage business owners are at risk of going under, with or without government loans. So, what can we do to help?

We, the customers, can and must spend our money—even if we, too, are strug gling—to give monetary support. “But I really am falling into debt myself,” many of you might say. I get it. I truly do. So, simply drop a dollar or two into someone’s tip jar. Just walk into that neighborhood coffee shop and pop that buck in the jar and say, “Thanks, will be back to order some java when I can.”

And if you are really lucky and benefit ting from a surplus of income due to the stimulus checks or extra unemployment dollars, then share a percentage, large or modest, and dine (safely) in or out. If you are not comfortable yet with being in public places, then call in a to-go order for pick-up. If totally self-quarantined, then peruse a restaurant’s website and purchase gift certificates for later use (a great way to sling some green to any small business). Many options to donate tips via virtual tip jars have been enacted for serv ers, bartenders, and musicians. Seriously, if everyone who has not fallen too deeply themselves into a money-less pit were to donate a buck a day or even a week to a work-for-tips employee, some small relief might be felt for them. But it takes a com munity to accomplish this.

Why so much concern for the restaurant and hospitality industry? Because we are New Orleans; because our food has put us on the map and rewarded our town’s economy with revenue and tax dollars. If our reputation as one of the world’s beloved culinary capitals goes down in flames, we all will be burned. This pitch to save our eateries and bars does not come from some elitist foodie attitude but rather from my gut. The soul of our city is di rectly tied to cuisine.

And it is also pay-back time. We need to say to our restaurants (bars, cafés, popups, food banks), “We’ve got your back,” in thanks for all the volunteer work they are currently doing to feed our unemployed, our first responders, and our healthcare workers. Also, when you have some ex tra bucks, donate to these food banks, churches, and organizers of food distribu tions. In a sense, these organizations (big and small) have been our surrogate res taurants and waiters during this pandemic.

For many, a “dining experience” has now become waiting in line for hours to receive groceries for their family. Food is a com munal thing, so let’s be that community that cares.

According to the National Restaurant Association (restaurant.org):

Restaurant Industry Facts at a Glance

• $899 billion: Restaurant industry's pro jected sales in 2020. • 1 million+: Restaurant locations in the United States. • 15.6 million: Restaurant industry em ployees. • 1.6 million: New restaurant jobs created by 2030. • 9 in 10 restaurant managers started in entry-level positions. • 8 in 10 restaurant owners started their industry careers in entry-level positions. • 9 in 10 restaurants have fewer than 50 employees. • 7 in 10 restaurants are single-unit op erations. • Restaurants employ more minority managers than any other industry. • 63% of consumers would rather spend on an experience than purchase an item. • The number of middle-class jobs ($45K- $75K) in the restaurant industry grew 84% between 2010 and 2018, more than 3 times faster than in the overall economy.

By Phil LaMancusa

Food Fixes or Cookbook Junkie

When Moses came down from the mountain with those Ten Commandments to give us, he also brought other written instructions: How to Parallel Park a Feisty Camel, Festive Robes for Every Occasion, Getting the Best Seats at the Coliseum, and How to Cook in Desert Climates. I admit it: I made a deal with him and bought the cookbook (first edition). Naturally, it took some negotiating, and it was the beginning of my cookbook addiction.

Over the years, my addiction has not abated: Red Sea: Fish Fry’s All-Time Hits, Leonardo da Vinci’s Last Supper Recipes, Attila the Hun’s Cooking on Horseback, What to Eat After the Mayflower Docks by John Alden, and, my favorite, The Witches’ Book of Brews by A. Salem Coven.

In 1999 in New Orleans, my daughters and I opened a cookbook shop with 5,000 books, manuals, ephemeris, and tomes that I had collected. You may remember, it was called The Kitchen Witch. It grew in 20 years to 10,000 books and no daughters (they both left me for younger men). But I did gain a partner, lover, and eventual wife (Debbie).

There have been a gazillion cookbooks printed in the last centuries, the earliest (besides Moses’s tablets) written by a Sicilian (yay!) around 350 BC. I never did get a copy of that one, although I have gotten some terrific, wonderful, and sometimesscary ones. I’ve had everything from cannibalism, insect cuisine, canine cooking, drag-queen brunches, aphrodisiacal, historical, futuristic, and, my favorite, Billi Gordon’s You’ve Had Worse Things in Your Mouth. I’ve had copies by Salvador Dali, Dinah Shore, Vincent Price, Liberace, Minnie Pearl, and Paul Newman. With my experience, I’ve been ready with discourse on authors such as Alice Waters, James Beard, Julia Child, Charlie Trotter, Jacques Pepin, Elizabeth David, M. F. K. Fisher, Charles Baker, Irma Rombauer, Leah Chase, Paul Prudhomme, Apicius, Darra Goldstein, Yotam Ottolenghi, Edna Lewis, Jessica B. Harris, John Folse, and Austin Leslie, to name a few.

Cookbook authors range from prostitutes and poets to philosophers and prima donnas. You name it, someone has written it, and someone has written about it: vegan, vegetarian, slaughterhouse, hunting exotic animals, keto, high-carb, low-carb, martini diets, church suppers, and dumpster diving. In my years, nothing has surprised me.

What makes a good cookbook—one worth buying, reading, using, putting on your overcrowded bookshelf, and/or gifting someone? Depends. Depends on you. That’s why I opened a cookbook store. That, and an excuse to buy, read, and use yet another one. It’s not their price, which can range from pittance to plenty (first editions can run into thousands of dollars). It’s not fads, which can range from How to Crochet a Cauliflower Casserole to Gutting a Tarpon and Eating Its Still-Quivering Liver. (Alice B. Toklas has a great hashish brownie recipe.) It’s about you and what you want to cook and keep cooking.

There are people who will buy a cookbook, use it once or twice, shelve it, and give it to charity the next spring. There are those who buy cookbooks and shelve them and never cook from them, reading them like novels in bed, with their hair in curlers and a box of bonbons on the bedside table. There are serious collectors who will not flinch at laying down hundreds for a first edition, first printing of The Gastronomical Me (1943; used: $400 – $600, a signed copy going for around $5,000).

The Modernist Cuisine, weighing in at 46 pounds and selling for half a grand to start, is one that you wouldn’t purchase on a whim, but who can pass up that Fondue Magic for half a buck at a garage sale? I’ve pretty much had them all, and I still have a bucket list.

My advantage is that I cook every day and mostly for a living wage (sometimes, a little less than a living wage). The point is that I read and use cookbooks, and I will buy cookbooks that are on subjects that may be of interest to me. Baking formulas, cheesemaking instructions, plant-based methods, spice studies, and local Creole and Cajun cooking line my shelves today at home.

I have since left the retail sales cookbook business. Selling books of any kind from a brick-and-mortar location is not a way to make a living, and here’s why.

First of all, if someone wants to buy a book these days, where do they go? Directly to their computer. If someone wants a recipe for pickled pig lips, where do they go? Same answer. If someone wants a cheap copy of How To Cook a Wolf? Guess.

However, who can resist passing a book shop and not dropping in to browse? Maybe some fool who’s in a silly hurry, but not your average Joe, Jane, Jim, or Jacqueline.

What the browsers don’t see is the expense of having a brick-and-mortar located in their path: the rent, the lights, the staffing, etc. I’ve actually had a chef come into the shop, pick up a cookbook, and say to me, “I can get this cheaper on Amazon.” Oh, my heart. I felt like saying, “Yeah, and I can pick up lettuce at the store and make my own damn salad,” but I didn’t.

Rent is another thing, and rents are not going down—neither is the insurance, upkeep, and maintenance of properties, which the landlord wants to include in your lease. Those days are behind me, and I can’t say that I don’t miss the struggle, pride, and exhaustion of owning a cookbook shop. A wonderful shop spanning two decades, three landlords and locations, and a hell of a lot of work. Some people actually miss The Kitchen Witch.

Me? I’m on the trail of making vegan croissants, Indian samosas, and a Korean spice mixture called yangnyeomjang (it’s in a book I just bought). Bon appétit.