The Website...

Our Website...

We love the website for The Black Birch... there are things we want to tweak. Mostly how quickly we popup in search engines, but largely this will be remedied with time and traffic and links, and metatags or somesuch, not to mention seo and slimy words and things my brain doesn't retain. I think our friends, Cleo and Troy, who coded and now maintain the site feel the same way about the website. Our designer, on the other hand... well we love her too. Probably more than the website.Part of loving her is knowing that she is never really satisfied with her work. A tweak may become an overhaul in the matter of a conversation. And that overhaul may call for a meeting.

When I was dreaming about a business of my own, I loved meetings. There were a few types; some enjoyable, some enjoyable because of how foreign and unenjoyable they were supposed to be. The later were mostly with officials and the sort of low level bureaucrat that you never hoped you would have to speak with. They were licensing and inspection issue meetings. They were lawyers and finance people that occur in offices that try to feel comfortable but never lose their catalog sterility.
The first type of meetings, the ones that were the most enjoyable mostly, for the past few years, Gavin and I took meetings in restaurants, coffeeshops and bars. We took meetings seriously for the first few pints. And, I am fortunate to say-- we took them often. I can't say that they were always efficient, or that they ever seemed productive. But they were all exceptional.

Lately, the meetings we set have little of the jovial bustle of a coffeeshop, the swagger of a barroom or the endless options of toppings at the Bratskellar. The meetings feel a bit more sterile and there is less pizza. Well, at least they had. And then I got an email from Liz... it was addressed to myself, Gavin, Cleo and Troy. It proposed a meeting to discuss the direction and potential redrafting of the website. But it proposed the meeting to be held at Cleo and Troy's farm over dinner. I have had the good fortune of having had dinner at the farm several times over the past few years. Well, we haven't cemented a date for the meeting, but the prospect of dinner, conversation and too many bottles of wine is just the medicine I need for a snowy afternoon. Regardless of the outcome, I guarantee it well be one of my favorite I've attended in quite some time.

Cheers,
Ben

An emotional pizza

 A lot of you may not know Al Mead. In the time we have been working on The Black Birch, Al has proven himself time and again. Sure, it looks like he just woke up and rolled out of bed, if you know him well you know it isn't just a look-- he did just roll out of bed. Al is always a quiet, poignant voice at the end of a tumultuous evening. He is also the piercing scream that announces

Al Mead, NYE 2011

During the construction phase, Gavin and I would frequently miss meals. And I get cranky when I am hungry. And construction is a frustrating exercise for me. Anyway, you can see where I am headed. It was probably on one of those sorts of afternoons that Al introduced me to the emotional pizza.

Simply put, in Al's own terms, everybody feels better with a pizza in the room. I think he is right, I know I experience a sense of satisfaction, near bliss, upon the arrival of a pepperoni pie. Regardless, of my mood or my hunger level-- just knowing there is a pizza at arm's length has a calming effect.

To this day, we routinely reach out to Kittery Town Pizza (207) 439-1265  to ensure that there is an emotional pizza on hand in event of a crisis. To date, we've had no crisis, but at least 9 pies. Thanks Al.

I advise that you try an emotional pizza. Keep one at arm's reach in the office, the shop, or at home. Everything will be just a little bit better.

Ben



PS, there is a very real possibility that I have mis-attributed the emotional pizza. If I have, I apologize to anyone who feels the emotional pizza is their intellectual property. (There is also the distinct possibility that the emotional pizza was courtesy Jeremy LeClair)

Has it been 2 mos.?

Two months and counting... It is safe to say that we are just starting to acclimate to the pace. The menu has been well received-- the venue and the drinks... And we are having fun. In hindsight, it was a lot of planning, a lot of hard work, and a lot of luck that brought the whole package together. It feels like a lot of luck. A lot of support from friends, family, and neighbors. That is what most of the experience really has boiled down to-- a sense of place, of community. The Kittery Foreside and the Seacoast as a whole delivered that community feel, even before we were able to open our doors. Now that the doors are open, and the first immense wave of guests is starting to ebb-- we still see that community every day. Our neighbors, stopping in for a glass of wine and a beer, sharing a snack with a co-worker or an old friend. Local artists, carpenters, and plumbers dropping by with a new taphandle.

Jake, Gavin, and I are settling into more familiar territory. Having a great time, and really doing what we had set out to do-- helping to provide an outlet for our community, our home. Thank you.

Headway

We are winding down a fairly productive opening week. We have started to dial in all of the tiny pieces that need fine tuning (not to mention the bits that need a complete overhaul). There is pressure, rigorous demands, and a timetable that seems relentless.

(As a note, I wrote the post Oct. 6, 2011. At the time, we were heading into inspections, a mad dash to try to get ready and licensed... there were setbacks that felt crushing. We were a long way from being where we wanted-- back in the dining rooms, bars, and kitchens that are familiar territory. I have a lot of unfinished snippets-- threads of thoughts that may finally start to see publication, just to help complete the sense of process that we went through.)

Russ...

I have been remiss in posting, it may be a significant downfall of making these musings interesting and engaging. For that I apologize.

We have turned a corner at the space, and for now, we have been able to move forward at a good pace. We have framed the interior walls, the kitchen, dry storage, and the bar. We will finish up the dish room walls at the start of the week. We have had the good fortune of working with a carpenter, Dudley, who has served as a tutor and mentor through the process. He graciously humors Gavin and I, keeping an eye on our progress and work, making suggestions, giving advice, and genuinely just sharing his knowledge of all things structural and wood. It has been a wonderful learning process, I will forever be indebted. One of the most wonderful aspects of the process has been our involvement. We are responsible for each step, we know the reasons each board, hole, or screw went where they did. We have started pouring through our reclaimed wood, assessing its soundness, strength, and best use. We have chosen the bartop, thanks again Dudley, and have built a prototype table (okay that was actually Isaac Chadwick and Justin Forrest). We've debated the best way to sand and finish the lumber. And our fantastic neighbor, Ned Savoie has lent us a joiner that should put an end to the only table dilemma we faced.

At the start of October, we have a realistic date for opening, beautiful floors, a cool ceiling, and the bones for a fantastic restaurant. Our homes are crammed with equipment, furnishings, and miscellany. Our business cards, gift certificates, and t-shirts are printed and perfect.

I think we are in good spirits and have a pretty good idea of how this is going. The plumbing is almost complete, the electrician should be in this coming week, and after that sheetrock, mud, and tape. Then paint and the reclaimed wood. October 10th the new exterior doors. The banquet-- poplar, I think, will be built and installed about that same time. Gavin and his parents are building the large trestle table for the front window.  Jeremy LeClair is building a letterpress, for Buoy and ourselves to share. More on that later. It feels as though things are as they should be.

But the overall arc of this list of things we have done or are doing is pretty simple. We are ultimately using will, patience, and love to craft what will be our new home. We have been blessed by a community that supports us at each turn... Our neighbors, in the building and around Kittery, our friends, tradesmen, plumbers, our families, and all of the tremendously talented people who continue to lend their time and ideas. It is a pretty simple vision... good, honest food done impeccably well; beer, wine and cocktails to match.

A great deal of what we love is provenance. We like knowing the how, why and even when of what we do. Whether we are building a mint julep or a kitchen wall, the importance of that knowing is not diminished. This process of building the restaurant, of doing it with our hands, is an expression of that principle. It is a principle we intend on carrying on everyday in the restaurant. It feels like we are off to a good start.

Our Chef

We had envisioned announcing Jake Smith's position as our executive chef as something noteworthy. And we believe that Jake's joining us is a coup-- it validates our efforts on a very real level. Jake's energy is unmatched, his ability to cook is met by few rivals, but beyond all that he is a chef. Jake is a leader in the kitchen, a role-model behind the line and just about anywhere in the house. When we first started discussing Jake in our kitchen we thought it a pipedream, I shared dinner with him over the summer at a friends home. We talked about The Black Birch before it had a name, Jake offered guidance, and talked about his own career in Boston. At the time, I didn't think there would be much to bring him back to the area. Thankfully, I was mistaken.

We knew we weren't offering a lot. A modest restaurant, at the time really just a demolished shell and a vision. At the same time, what we offered was also a great deal-- the ability to set a menu, to work in a small kitchen with a direct interaction with customers, and to be part of a small start-up that he could directly and immediately affect. We were offering a chance to work hand in hand with us to build a restaurant and a future. It sounds cliche, but there is a great deal of truth to it. We weren't looking for a chef to open our restaurant, we had found a chef with whom we wanted to partner. Jake brings an immeasurable energy, he is driven, is almost always in good spirits, is passionate about food and cooking it, and is contagious. His smile and exuberance spread through a room.

So the announcement of our chef didn't have much rollout or fanfare, but I am not sure that either of those things are what the Black Birch will be known for. The announcement of our chef was more about quiet jubilation, about personal and professional satisfaction, and about Gavin and I knowing that our food was something we were very much looking forward to.

T-Shirts.

Recently I was entertaining a friend, who happens to be in marketing and pr. We were enjoying some wine, mid-way through a hedonistic portion of bone marrow and gremolata. He was familiar with the black birch, had offered his help in steering our concept and its branding. He was running through some standard questions, most of which required little thought as answers rolled from my tongue; what do you see yourself serving? what will we focus on? will our comfort behind the bar shift the focus to drinks-- beer and cocktails and away from food? will this be the sort of place that sells t-shirts?


I stuttered. I looked away, studying the wood grain of the cabinetry behind Skye. T-shirts? Hmm, Gavin and I hadn't talked about t-shirts. We love t-shirts. We wear them. The black birch will be casual, fun, energetic, and probably loud. Let's call it boisterous. A place to rub elbows with neighbors, to meet people, to exchange ideas and to have a great nosh. T-shirts? How is this critical to our business concept? But somehow, how had it been overlooked? Well, no more. T-shirts will be available later this week. Get in touch with Gavin or myself to reserve your size.