Behind the scenes at Tavern on the Green
Photo credit: Kristen E. Olson | Some of the decadent desserts offered at Tavern on the Green.
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At about 5 AM the trucks start rolling up. In the cool of a November morning, they negotiate their way around a massive tent that shields the famous entrance. Just a few days before, Tavern on the Green had hosted the biggest pasta party in the city -- 17,000 people, runners all, crowding the tent, spilling out onto the driveway, and lining up along Central Park West, loading up on carbs ion the eve of the New York City marathon. It was a big party, yes, but the restaurant took it all in stride, bringing in specially equipped trucks to cook the three kinds of macaroni, calling on reserves of volunteers to help dish out the food.
Even as the trucks maneuver their way around the driveway, workmen are breaking down one of the tents, the one that runs along the side of the restaurant, to clear up the parking-lot and open up a way for the trucks: Peter's Fruits, Gotham Seafood, Balter Sales, just a few of the hundreds of suppliers the restaurant calls upon to bring in the cases of fish, meat, produce, and dairy it goes through in the course of a normal day.
Tavern on the Green is the oldest of the two restaurants in Central Park, the country's second highest-grossing restaurant, with annual revenues of more than $38 million. Every year it serves close to 700,000 diners. It takes up to 525 people to run it from the time its doors open to when the last workers leave. It's a complicated place to manage -- and even more complicated to change. Now, as the restaurant evolves, with a new menu, under the direction of a new chef, we go behind the scenes, haunting the kitchens, the back rooms, and the gardens to take a close-up look at how a restaurant this size works, to follow a day in its life.
THE MORNING
Quality Control The glamour is all in the front of the house; here, where the deliveries are coming in, there's canvas instead of brick over our heads, concrete instead of carpet under our feet. This is a landmark building, after all -- a prime example of Ruskinian Gothic architecture, says Central Park historian Sarah Cedar Miller. Although it was not part of the original Olmstead and Vaux design for the park, it became a treasured landmark when it was added as a sheepfold, in 1871. With all that history behind it, the city keeps a sharp eye on it, and when the Tavern outgrew its space, it couldn't just slap on an addition. So, we're in a freezing "temporary" space, watching as Johnny D'Antonio, the restaurant's purchasing director, starts opening up boxes of fish.
If there's a front line in any restaurant's battle for cost control and first-rate supplies, it's the point at which the deliveries are made. When they come in, the supplies are checked for freshness and also for weight -- if a supplier is going to try and pass off a 7 ½-ounce steak as an 8-ouncer, it's going to get caught right here.
If there were beauty pageants for salmon, the specimens we're looking at would probably win: sleek and silvery on one side, rosy pink on the other. "Produce, meat, and fish, we're looking at color and aroma," D'Antonio says, sniffing a filet. His gloved hand slides over the fish as he talks. "We're checking the fibers, to see was it frozen. A frozen piece of fish will break apart a little easier. This fish was probably harvested Monday." It's now Wednesday morning, and D'Antonio is satisfied with what he sees. He shoves the box aside, onto a cart loaded with shaved ice, and breaks open another.
"We get deliveries six days," he says. "We go through a case each of walnuts, pecans, pistachios a week, 20 cases of chocolate. We use a lot of scallops, little necks, shrimp. Lobster is checked one by one, to make sure they're alive."
The soul of a new menu At 10 in the morning, the kitchen is about as quiet as it gets all day. A team of cooks are laying out sea bass filets, prepping them for an afternoon party; another group assembles rings of shrimp. Elsewhere, a waiter is filling salt and pepper shakers, and someone is stacking plates on carts, getting ready for the lunch service, which begins at noon.
"We're not a fancy, frou-frou restaurant, with all kinds of design on the plate," says William Zambrotto, Tavern's general manager. "We have good food -- and we have good service." That mantra resonates with Tavern's new executive chef, Brian Young. Since the spring, when he took over the kitchen, Young has been developing a new menu, tweaking some of the classic dishes while adding new ones. Young, says the restaurant's owner, Jennifer LeRoy, wants to take the food up a notch. But as the chef himself says, "If you come into an existing restaurant, you have to respect its style. There's nothing wrong with respecting what works."
So he holds onto some classic dishes --the crab cakes, prime rib, and the lobster bisque. "Some stuff was a little heavy,' Young says. "So we worked on reconstructing the sauces, bringing in a brighter flavor."
Forecasting of a dish -- figuring out how much a given dish will sell -- has to be dead on. "To get it right is important," says Young. "To get it wrong will hurt you." One of his favorite innovations is the beet terrine, a dense, beety concoction sparked with pomegranate juice, a recipe that was developed through the combined efforts of the staff. "A kitchen is a little like a rock band," Young says. "You riff ideas back and forth: 'I saw something interesting on TV, on the internet.' It's a free-flowing exchange."
NOON
Take a seat The Crystal Room -- the one with the big windows facing the garden -- is starting to fill up for lunch: A group of women of a certain age, each clutching a Bendel's bag, are led to a table near the window. A few tables of business types settle in; another table of women; and a table for two: a young man and woman, probably tourists. Tourists, in fact, make up a lot of Tavern's business. Partly because of its location in Central Park, it's as well-known in, say, London or Tokyo as it is in Manhattan.
But its stellar location can cut both ways. The downside is that it really isn't near anything else; this isn't a place you're going to simply drop in on for lunch or, for that matter, cocktails or dinner. While the restaurant's bottom line is in no danger -- all those banquets keep its financing purring along nicely, Ezra Eichelberger, a professor at the Culinary Institute of America, points out that such isolation can be deadly for many restaurants. "If a restaurant isn't near a movie theater or theater, it's tough to turn a table more than twice a night," he says.
So, since this is New York, even a restaurant story turns out to be about real estate. Because whenever you sit down at a table, you are, in effect, renting your place. And you'll pay a rent that management has calculated -- the business being what it is -- down to the last nickel. Food costs, salaries, rent, electricity, all are figured into that $35 price tag on your steak. And, if you're eating in a restaurant that requires a $35 main course to turn a profit, don't expect a bargain, even if you're eating macaroni.
How long does a restaurant expect you to occupy your space? Generally restaurants allow and hour and a half to two hours: At Tavern they budget two hours. "If people have a show to get to, " says William Zambrotto, "It could be an hour and a half. Each seat has to perform. We don't want the reputation that we're a factory, rushing people in and out, but we do have to make a profit. There has to be a balance."
Service, service, service There are the reservations people and the doorman before you even get inside the place. Zambrotto is thinking aloud. "There are so many levels people have to go through before they even get to their tables. The coat check, the front desk, the hostess, the waitstaff. They all have to be on their game."
His boss, Michael Desiderio, Tavern's COO, would agree. "People come in with higher expectations than we can ever meet." Most people, says Zambrotto, want to sit in the Crystal Room. Unfortunately, it seats only 250 -- a third of the 750 the restaurant can accommodate. Reservationists never guarantee a particular dining room, say the managers; there is no Siberia, and seating is decided on a first-come, first-served basis. When diners arrive, they can request a table in a particular room, and if there's one available, says Zambrotto, they'll get it.
The six weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas are the busiest season here; Thanksgiving alone sees a crush of 4,000 arriving for dinner, scarfing down some 350 turkeys. But throughout the holidays, there are three dinner seatings to try to keep up with reservations. "We overbook a little," says Zambrotto. "You don't want empty seats. We could have a whole other Tavern on the Green, and still we wouldn't be able to seat all the people who want to come here during the season."
Ronnie Webb, a captain who works the Chestnut Room, knows precisely how busy Tavern can get. "Last Thanksgiving, " he says, "I did 160 covers alone." In some restaurants, 160 covers -- or meals -- is a respectable number for the entire place. For Webb and his three-man team: captain, waiter, and busboy, it was a profitable day. When it comes to the subject of tipping, he says, 15 percent, plus 5 percent for the captain, is fine. "If you get 15 percent," he says, "you should be happy."
While Webb talks appreciatively about the restaurant's regular patrons, who return year after year and often request a particular waiter, he's also dealt with the diners from hell. "The best way to handle them is patience," he says. "You cannot play a defensive game to win them. Once you show a bit of patience and a smile, they usually calm down."
Some people are just plain intimidated, he says. "This may be the first or second time they've ever been in a high-end restaurant," he says. "So it's your job to make them feel comfortable." Managers, says Zambrotto, help out, going through the dining rooms, on the lookout for problems. "If they don't have time to stop at every table, they look for people who don't look like they're having the time of their lives," he says, "and approach that table to see if there's something they can do to make the experience better."
AFTERNOON
Planning the parties Erica Meyerson is director of entertainment; the person who comes up with party themes and entertainment to go along with them. Right now, she's talking to a client, debating the merits of bringing in a cabaret singer for an event. "But then, we'll need audio," she says, her voice trailing off. AS Meyerson knows, just about anything is possible, given a big enough budget. "We deal with a lot oif different kinds of affairs," she says. "For an Alice in wonderland party, we had a full tea party, with little sandwiches, cookies, and cakes. It felt like you were walking on to a film set."
"This is a celebration restaurant," says Michael Desiderio. "People celebrate the special occasions in their lives here." And those celebrations contribute mightily to the restaurant's bottom line. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to do 60 to 70 percent banquet business," he continues. A la carte service costs a restaurant far more than banquets do, so the restaurant turns a higher profit on those parties. "Right now," he says, "Tavern runs about 50-50 between a la carte and banquets."
Parties, after all, are part of the Tavern's DNA. "My dad loved to throw parties," says Jennifer LeRoy. "When I was in school, I was in a poetry workshop. He wanted to give a party for the workshop. If I was playing volleyball, he wanted a party for the team. We did a birthday party for Michael Jackson, We did a big party for Pierre Franey, and all the chefs were there: Batali, Charlie Trotter, Charlie Palmer, Emeril Legasse, Bouloud -- all in the kitchen. You name a celebrity, and they've probably been here. "
"Monster events are definitely a challenge in this job," says Brian Young. While people often think party food is limited to rubber chicken and sadly overcooked pasta, Young says the kitchen can do just about anything: individual racks of lamb, snapper in a salt crust, even sushi. "You can re-engineer almost anything to make it work.," says Young. The limits are only the partygiver's taste and budget. The real challenge for the kitchen comes in serving, he says. He figures he has about 15 minutes -- instead of a few hours -- to serve 800 or 900 people. "Now," he says, "we're in the 11- to 12-minute range."
Pondering the future
Following the corridor past the Crystal Room and around a bend, heading toward the Garden Rooom, you come to the shop. As Billy Poppell, who manages the place, remarks: "Late at night, the women come in in their nice dresses, and they love the 'jewels,'" the glittery bracelets, necklaces, and rings -- cubic zirconias all and relatively cheap. But the shop sells more than just jewelry: there are books about Central Park, T-shirts imprinted with the Park Conservancy logo, and, at this time of year, Christmas ornaments.
Things that carry the Tavern's logo -- or are somehow tied to the style of the place, such as the Chinese lanterns, replicas of those that hang in the tavern's garden come summer -- sell very well. Among the newer merch: a collection of sauces and marinades made under the Tavern brand.
As Jennifer LeRoy remarks, she is looking to capitalize on the Tavern's name, however, as COO Desiderio is careful to point out, the LeRoys aren't interested in doing a bad Tavern knockoff. "I don't know if we can duplicate this," he says. "We've talked to a few cities, both in the US and outside. " On the shortlist? Vegas, San Francisco, and Florida. In the meantime, LeRoy says, there is a book celebrating the history of the Tavern in the works, and there are those sauces. And, down in Florida, LeRoy is working to try to popularize the Tavern's off-site catering operations.
How much all this has to do with a certain date is not quite clear. But as of December 31, 2009, the Tavern's license with the city will expire. "Just around the corner," as general manager Zambrotto notes.
Early in 2008, says Parks spokeswoman Cristina DeLuca, the city will release a request for proposals, in effect, opening up bids on the license -- which costs the restaurant $1,329,401 per year to operate within its landmark building.
"There are, of course, conflicts with the Park," Zambrotto says, although he also says relations have been generally good. Still, he says there are complaints about the number of people, about noise, about use of the newly renovated bridal path, which runs right past the buiding and which the restaurant once used when bringing in equipment for parties. "We don't do that since the paths have been renovated," says Zambrotto.
"We're doing everything we can to keep the lease," says LeRoy. "We own the name, and we own everything in the building," she says. "Besides, I was practically born here. Both my sisters were married here, and I remember rollerblading over from the Dakota and asking them to make me milkshakes. We are committed to being here."
EVENING
The dinner rush Here, as in most restaurants, this is the most pressured time of the day. Tavern on the Green starts its dinner service early by Manhattan standards, at 5:00, and by 7 pm, the kitchen is roaring. Expediters race past, tickets -- or orders --in hand. Waiters carry out huge trays, some loaded with 10 or 12 dishes at a time. Saute pans, grill stations are fired up and working. Pots clash against stovetops; tongs, knives, and cooking forks clatter against steel countertops. The noise is tremendous. The line cooks -- six or seven of them on any given night -- are moving fast. Over in the corner, the pasta guy seems to have disappeared completely for a couple of seconds in a haze of steam.
What looks to the untrained eye like complete chaos, is actually quite controlled. "You don't want a car to fire on all cylinders," says Young. "A kitchen is constructed very much the same way. Each station is like a cylinder. You want to make sure it keeps turning, keeps moving. But we don't want any single station to get hit consistently." So, how do you keep the different areas in balance? You make adjustments, says Young. "There are a myriad of reasons why something might not be selling or why it sells extremely well. You might want to tone down some sales to keep it in balance."
The line itself -- garde a manger (the station that handles cold food: sandwiches, salads), pastry, broil station, pasta, saute station, fish, and on weekends, eggs -- works to a rhythm based on how many people are in the restaurant, says Young. And that rhythm moves, as he says, at "light speed. "Because we're so busy, we don't really store stuff," says Young. "It comes in, we make it, and we sell it and it's out. The next day we start all over again. We couldn't move stuff faster through this kitchen than we do.
"The essence of a line cook is the ability to produce and to think ahead," says Young. "We fire 10 to15 tickets at a time; each one can be anything from a two- to a 10-top.So a station can get hit with 50 orders. Up to a certain point, one guy can handle it, and then it satarts to peak at another level. " When that happens, says Young, he mobilizes the "floaters" -- chefs assigned to help out as a station starts to get hammered. In order to keep the dishes moving in the right order, they'll start with appetizers if there's a jam-up there, then move swiftly to the entree stations, to keep them moving out of the kitchen.
At service time, the executive chef is always there, constantly checking the plates going out on to the floor. "You put yourrself in a position where all the information is coming around you -- information, in this case being plates," says Young. "That's called the pass. All the plates are going past you, and you're watching, checking everything. If necessary, you have your sous-chefs there--your trusted lieutenants. They know what's right and not right.." And if, heaven forbid, there's something not right, the plate is knocked back to the station to be redone.
"Service," as Young concedes, "is tough."
The clean-up Long after the last late-night diner has collected his coat, after the doorman has abandoned his post and the horse-drawn carriages have retired to their stables, the final act in the daily routine approaches. At 4 in the morning, the cleaners take over and for the next few hours, the place is theirs, to vacuum, polish, scrub and shine. Garbage goes out twice a week, some 13 tons of it; more during the holiday season.
As in restaurants all over the city, the health codes are the biggest headache for those charged with keeping the Tavern clean. "The health department comes in here, they find a roach, someone not wearing gloves, someone eating in the kitchen -- all serious violations -- that can cause a great deal of problems," says Zambrotto. "We have a consultant who comes in and tries to keep us ahead of the health department -- they make sure people aren't walking through the kitchen, grabbing a roll, that it's clean, that pests are taken care of. But we're in the park and there are raccoons, there are mice -- there are all sorts of things that live in the park. We have traps around the borders and the perimeter of the building. But it is Central Park and it's impossible to keep every last living creature away from the building."
Among the other issues that arise, there is wear-and-tear on the building itself. As Desiderio remarks, "There's a great deal of history in this building. That's part of its charm. But this building also has more odd things than most." Zambrotto agrees, remarking that there are nooks and crannies here that sometimes fall apart. Maintenance, he says, takes care of that. Maintenance also takes care of the wear-and-tear on the more portable aspects of the building: polishing the acres of mirrors, the windows and the chandeliers. Bolts of fabric that match the upholstery are stored in a warehouse in Queens; if chairs need to be re-covered, they get shipped out there and the work is done.
As one manager remarks, the restaurant is fairly self-sufficient; in fact, a mini-empire here at the edge of Central Park, complete with its own butchers, florist, horticulturalist, and shop, not to mention its backstairs staff, who leave just as the park is beginning to wake up -- and the delivery trucks are gearing up to make the deliveries, and the daily cycle begins all over again.
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