Dine & Dish, the tardy frosh edition

Chalk it up to “Island Time;” our habit of posting on the wire, or in this case, a full two weeks late. We had every intention of completing our entry for Dine & Dish #3: The Freshman by Monday, July 11th, but a long weekend of hard labor (packing belongings and moving furniture) followed by two double-shift work days and a heap-load of general domestic catching-up got the better of us. After that, well, I suppose the dog’s explanation is as good as any.

But, since we found such an appropriate candidate (first-time restaurant owner, brand new location, new, untested niche on this island), and since we snagged an inside look at the process for this Freshman venture, we couldn’t resist posting anyway. Tardy? You betcha. We’ll see you all after detention.

Steps, just two months old on July 13th, is tucked into an alley half a block from the ferry line in downtown Friday Harbor. You wouldn’t know what to expect from the street; this isn’t one of those places that announces itself to the world with massive signage or gaudy architecture. A simple banner hangs above the door, and the alley-side footprint is as narrow as an office cubicle. All in all, this is a most unlikely place for a high-end restaurant.

Inside, the first thing I always notice is the kitchen, exhibition style, brightly lit, and just a short walk from the door. The kitchen’s the focal point; your first glimpse of staff is as likely to be executive chef and owner Madden Surbaugh as it is a server or hostess.

To the left, a flight of stairs leads to a cozy second level with five tables, a row of balcony-rail bar stools, a server/barista station, and, along the west wall, wine, wine and more wine. I’m not surprised; Steps boasts one of the most extensive wine lists in the San Juans.

The décor is modern (some might call it chic), the music an eclectic range of techno to Tom Waits, and the lighting — including a mirror ball and digital wall art that mixes movie footage with live shots piped in from the various tiny video cameras secreted around the joint — is decidedly urban, not at all like the typical Friday Harbor meal-on-a-deck or meal-with-a-view.

One thing’s for certain: two feet in the door and I am not in a small island town anymore.

A restaurant should transport you somewhere, Madden told me when we stopped by for an interview early in July. Italian villa, British pub, seaside chowder house; it’s all about taking the patron on a journey.

For Steps (and this is me, the patron talking), it’s all about leaving the small town and heading for the city. This isn’t Friday Harbor’s version of fine dining; this is Seattle, Portland, San Francisco. This is high-end chic and it’s not something we’ve seen here before. “I was looking to rock the boat a little,” Madden said, “to get out of the safety zone and see how things pay off.”

Playing it safe would have been purchasing one of the several local restaurants for sale (we always seem to have at least two on the block), or starting another chowder house or moderately generic Mexican joint like the three we’ve got already. Not playing it safe? That’s starting from the ground up: new niche in an empty shell. More than empty, really. Last September, when the process began, this place lacked plumbing and floor drains, and the crew had to cut through sheet rock and steel beams to install the wiring.

When I asked Madden about that part of the process, knowing that there had to be at least one festering bit of construction hell to endure, he immediately nodded at the floor. “We were supposed to open on April Fool’s Day,” he told us. Instead, difficulties with the flooring delayed the opening a month and a half.

My guess is that the delay would not have been as long if this were a mainland venture, but when you’re dealing with Island Time and limited island resources, everything takes longer. The floor’s installation had to wait for a crew who could do it, and meanwhile, equipment, delivered to the island via ferry, had to sit at Friday Harbor Freight for a month. Not exactly a situation that keeps start-up costs down. It’s no wonder that most new restaurant ventures around here take over older restaurant spaces.

But enough about that. (Insert chorus of impatient food bloggers screaming: what about the food??)

While the ambiance transports patrons far from Friday Harbor, the menu is all about strong connections to the local farming community. San Juan Island is rich with family farms and Madden takes full advantage, buying 70 to 80% of his product locally, from fruits and vegetables to beef and lamb, pork and eggs. I asked about local seafood as well, but it turns out he has his flown in daily from Seattle, preferring the quality and selection he can get from his contacts there.

One thing that stands out: the constantly changing menu. The actual menu — and here I can’t help but poke at the design a little; the text is laid out like a poem and for the life of me I can’t read it without putting in dramatic pauses — spells out Steps’ philosophy:

A bonus of small scale daily deliveries and the ever changing menu? Hardly any waste. I missed the exact details (while I was furiously taking notes), but Madden pointed to one small trashcan under his station at the kitchen and indicated they only had to empty it once at the end of each night.

As for the dishes themselves:

Of course everyone’s going to have a different definition of “breaking the bank” so what’s priced accordingly to some might be a tad steep to others. Me, I’m a bit in the latter camp, but then I’m not what you’d call a high-end kind of gal. If I’m going to spend close to fifty bucks on a meal, I want something to take home and call “lunch” the next day.

The menu’s divided into five sections: snacks (price range — on the day’s menu I snagged — $5-9), sides (priced $6-7), small plates and bowls (priced $11-13), large plates and bowls (priced $17-18), and sweets (priced $6-12)

On the nights we’ve visited, we’ve enjoyed black bean falafel cakes, grilled scallops, and goat cheese stuffed pattipans, picking always from the snacks and sides categories (as our bank takes a little less effort to break than the average high-end diner’s).

What’s stood out to me on our visits was the relative simplicity of each plate. Nothing we’ve eaten has had so many ingredients that we can’t pick out almost every individual component. This is not a place to go if you like complex, sauce-smothered dishes. This is more about tasting the squash, the scallop, the heirloom tomato. (And that’s the point, right? Why go nuts with buying local and organic, if the ingredients are lost in the chaos?)

Our last visit included one snack, one side, a dessert (an extremely delicious flourless chocolate cake), one glass of wine (it didn’t take long for me to pick from the huge list: Writer’s Block Syrah. How can I resist that? It was quite good, too.), One beer (Boddington’s, one of Chopper’s faves), and we got out of there with a $47 bill (including tax & tip). It was a light meal, better suited to the later evening hours, when what you really want is to just sample and sip.

As we concluded the interview (conducted during an afternoon prep as Madden and his sous chef stuffed squash blossoms), I asked the question everyone who’s ever considered starting a restaurant wants to know: What advice would you have for anyone crazy enough to do this? Madden easily listed off four points.

First, “make sure you have a solid crew,” he said, “to take the stress off and allow you to focus on what’s needed.”

Second, “find mentors.” No one should go into a venture like this without the support and advice of mentors who’ve done it all before. I’ve no doubt that Madden’s lengthy background (New England Culinary Institute plus years of work in the industry) provided him with excellent mentors to call upon.

Third, “trust your instincts.” An interesting note about that: Madden told us he was advised to make cuts in his budget; compromises he didn’t really want to make. Turns out in the end, with additional expenses (the flooring delay, for one), the final budget ended up exactly as he’d first projected, pre-compromise. This confirmed to him that his initial instincts were right on target.

And on that note, the fourth bit of advice: “stay true to your original vision.” “It’s easy,” he said, “to slip into the trying to please everyone state.” Patrons at new joints can gripe about the most insignificant details — the wall art is weird, the music too incongruous, and so on. At first Madden said he was tempted to listen. Now though, he’s more likely to remind himself of his original goals and brush off the commentary.

Steps is doing well right now, and Madden seems pleased with where he’s at. It’s tricky here, however, and though we wish him well and are impressed with his drive, focus, and infectious enthusiasm, the true test on this island is off-season; the winter months where tourists are scarce and locals tend to stick to their long-time favorites. Question is, will enough locals go a little stir-crazy and want to be transported to the big city in the dead of winter, or will they think I’m on an island, time for a beer and a bowl of chowder?

We’ll be checking in with Steps down the road a little to see how things continue to play out. Will this Victoria Falls sized bungee-jump of a Freshman leap pay off? Check back in a few months and we’ll let you know.

Steps is located on First Street in Friday Harbor, just across from the Pelindaba Lavender shop. Open 5:30pm, every day but Tuesday.
www.stepswinebarandcafe.com

This entry was posted on Thursday, July 28th, 2005 at 2:17 pm and is filed under dine & dish, food blogging events, island local. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.