Saturday, June 25, 2011
The Chief............Part I
CAUTION – ADULT CONTENT: THIS TRUE STORY (save for the legally safe inclusion of false names and heritages) IS FRAUGHT WITH OVERT SEXUAL REFERENCES, FULL FRONTAL AND BACKAL NUDITY, EXCESSIVE USE AND ABUSE OF DRUGS AND ALCOHOL, RAW POLITICAL INCORRECTNESS AND THE MANIPULATION OF SEXUAL DEVICES WITH RUBBER GLOVES.
BE FORWARNED!!!
THE SQUEAMISH AND PRUDENT SHOULD ABSTAIN AND FORWARD TO THE NEXT CHAPTER, WHICH DETAILS CLEAN, FAMILY-CENTERED EVENTS ABOUT KITTENS AND PUPPIES; (ALTHOUGH WE DO END UP GRILLING THE KITTENS, OVER MESQUITE!)
It was mid summer, 2009, and the first few notes of our swan song were wafting through the air; nah, those notes were barking, bleating, honking through the air. I knew that I was out at the end of the month, heading for a paying job in Mississippi – leaving the dregs of our dream to be dealt with by my wife and daughter. Needless to say, my heart wasn’t in it anymore, but my mind knew that we needed every nickel we could squeeze from whatever source of revenue that literally stumbled our way.
Enter Chief Drink and Do the Deed All Night and his spouse; both natives of some country - maybe America, maybe France – political correctness prohibits me from being specific. The Chief was a hulking mass of a man – not as big as that Will Sampson guy from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, but pretty damn big nonetheless; you’d notice him when he entered a room. They were wonderful people; warm, friendly and open about their joy of being able to spend a romantic weekend in Hot Sulphur Springs at The Riverside and enjoy the fine fare of The River Room Restaurant before basking in the luxury of the adjacent hot springs. Seasoned high-end travelers would consider that trifecta a proper prelude to a life in hell, but no matter.
They checked in at 4:00 PM and I showed them to their room, Mary, the haunted room at the end of the hall; the room that our dog Lucy wouldn’t enter, not even if there was a juicy smoking rib-eye sitting in the middle of the bed. I put them in this room not for any other reason that it was the last available room – for some unknown reason, we were all but booked this weekend, possibly the only weekend that summer we were fully booked.
I mention this now because it’s ultimately germane to the story. The room adjacent to Mary was Betty; pastel greens with all of our pictures from France – photos we took at Montmartre, Versailles and travel posters purchased at both locales. ‘Betty’ was a very serene room, very calming, but for some reason, it seemed to be the last room we put people in; was I a guest, it would have been one of my first choices. In the Betty room that evening was a couple from Denver – I’ll be judgmental here and call them high-enders; were there a Ritz Carlton in Hot Sulphur, they would have forsaken our homey little hostel and opted for the luxury. But one nice thing about these folks was the fact that while they knew the amenities that they normally sought in a hotel were screamingly absent at The Riverside, the charm of our place served as an adequate substitute. The husband had an early tee-time at Dead Pines Golf Links with some buddies; they’d do the spa, eat dinner, sleep, and the husband would bolt early with his sticks and the wife would sleep in and leave at her leisure. This was our idea of perfect clientele.
In the next room, Mary, was our idea of the clientele we’d pursue if we were broke.
Chief Drink and Do the Deed All Night and his spouse headed to the hot springs shortly after checking in. Not much was thought about them, as the restaurant was packed that night with a full hotel and a crowded town. Near closing time at The River Room, the Chief and his wife sauntered into the restaurant looking for dinner – hair wet and reeking of sulphur from the springs. Showing up in our restaurant in this fashion wasn’t unusual nor unacceptable – like it or not, the raison d’être of our town, our hotel and our restaurant were those dog-ass smelly hot springs and the denizens who’d pay good money to park their bottoms in the sulphurous stink of their healing waters. I went there once, in 1997, and prayed for a heart attack so I’d be taken out in an ambulance so I didn’t have to walk out on my own power through the fetid dressing room.
‘Nuff said… it’s a Colorado thing.
(Small wonder why the locals have less than fond feelings for me.)
The Chief and his wife had the Prime Rib special, a couple of beers and each a glass of wine, then scuttled out at 9:00 PM for one last go at the hot springs, which closed at 10:00 PM. We closed The River Room at 9:00, cleaned up and started to wind down for the night. The hotel was full, but full of a genteel tourist crowd; most had toddled off to bed by 10:00. I was shutting the bar down when The Chief and his wife came in from their last soak in the heated dung water.
“You’re not closing the bar down, are ya?” asked The Chief.
“Well…… maybe. …..Would you like a drink?” I asked with a sense of trepidation so intense that the least observant of people would've immediately known that not only was I not wanting to serve a drink, I was hesitant to take my next breath, even if my life was dependent upon it.
“Hell Yes we want a drink! We came here to party! It’s only 10:00 O’clock!”
“Dad, you go to bed. We’ll take care of things.” my brave daughter Rachel offered. She and Chef Danny were decompressing from the busy restaurant night and had no intention of calling it quits at 10:00 PM.
Without question, that was the best offer that I’d had all day, and I accepted it as quick as a hiccup.
As I quickly slunk out of the bar and headed towards our living quarters, feeling giddy as if I’d just gotten away with stolen money, I heard The Chief loudly proclaim to no one in particular, as if he were exhorting the tribes before battle, “My spirit was low, and my heart was heavy. But the waters have revived me. We will party tonight, and the drinks are on me! Owweeeee!”
I slunked out even more quickly……and double locked the door between the lobby and our living quarters.
To be continued……………
Thursday, June 9, 2011
The River Room.....Part XIII
His real name was Chef Poopy Pants.
This poor guy had something seriously wrong with his intestinal tract that caused him to continually emit the foulest of foul BM odors with unheralded regularity. And to make matters worse, they were silent emissions; without any noise to serve as a harbinger to the impending assault, you’d find yourself suddenly engulfed, overwhelmed, olfactoraly assaulted if you were anywhere within 10 feet of the dude. The fact that he wouldn’t profusely apologize after besmirching not only the immediate air, but more than likely the ozone layer as well, tells me he was possibly oblivious to his condition and certainly devoid of a sense of smell.
That wasn’t the half of it. When Chef Poopy Pants used the facilities in the lobby to expunge his system of the viral monster that created the gas, he would literally clear the room. The first few times he did his business, before we knew what ‘doing his business’ wrought, there would be me and whomever else – my spouse, Riverside employees, hotel guests – innocently occupying the lobby, and then WHAM; it was as if a lethal stink bomb, the kind that they used in WWII in deadly combat, exploded and sent those assembled scrambling for the nearest exit. I AM NOT EXAGGERATING!
After those first few tear-inducing, eye-popping bowel movements, we knew to head for the fresh Colorado mountain air the second that he made a move for the commode door. How in the world did he live through it? Again, he absolutely had to have no sense of smell, nor I’m certain a sense of touch, as the heat from the act had to have been searingly intense.
On a positive note, he really didn’t have any kitchen experience either. It turns out that the only thing he had cooked professionally was crystal meth on the summer concert festival circuit. And as far as being able to pass a drug test, he did that with flying colors. Ask him anything you’d want to know about drugs, illicit or otherwise, and he’d know all of the answers.
I will say this for the young man – he worked hard and gave it his all; but if hard work and giving it your all made you successful, I would be King of Hot Sulphur Springs, sitting riverside on a pile of gold. One week after arriving at The Riverside, Chef Poopy Pants was back in his beater of a car, heading to parts unknown.
Darin, thank you for the new kitchen equipment, but no longer will you oversee human resources at The Riverside.
The final addition to The River Room staff, before we gave up the ghost at the end of 2009, was a friend of a friend who lived in Winter Park; enter Chef Ryan, one massively large human being. Our friend played baseball with him in a recreational, all blood and guts Sunday league (fast-pitch & serious hardball played by 20-30 year-olds who were good enough to have played some small college ball). Ryan was the pitcher, and the sight of this 7’ human being on the mound with his wild hair, thick glasses and control problems would have put the bravest of hitters into the fetal position before stepping out of the dugout. This dude was huge! When looking through the food service window into the kitchen, you could see Chef Danny’s torso and the lower half of his face; Chef Ryan, you could see only his knees.
No funny stories or odd habits from Chef Ryan – he was big, quiet and steady as a rock; not in Danny’s league for being able to cook, but more than adequate in helping Danny put together stellar meals night after night. The last summer of the restaurants operation, which other than the 2009 Christmas season and a few weekends here and there in 2010, was when Danny really had the opportunity to come into his own as a ‘Chef’, and he took full hold of it. His menus were sophisticated, but accessible to the type of clientele that lived in Grand County or would visit a historic hotel in an out-of-the-way locale; you didn’t need a degree in ancient colloquial Italian to select an entrée. Herewith follows the final official menu of The River Room restaurant, courtesy of Chef Danny.
Winter, 2009
Appetizers
Wild Mushroom Bruschetta- A plate of our house made crostinis topped with black olive tapenade, shitake, oyster, and cremini mushrooms sautéed with garlic, fresh basil and lemon juice…………$8
Roasted Garlic Hummus- A mixture of smashed chick peas, roasted garlic, fresh lemon juice, spices, finished with a touch of black truffle oil, served with warm pita bread……………………………..$7
Smoked Salmon- Fresh salmon, brined then slowly smoked over hickory & mesquite wood, served with our house made crostinis, lemon wedges, capers, and truffled aioli………………………………………$9
Entrees
All entrees served with either house salad or soup of the day
Trout Almandine- a filet of ruby red trout, pan seared, topped with sliced almonds and finished with Triple Sec, served with Riverside mashed potato and seasonal vegetables………………$20
Swai Jardiniere- A delicate white fish filet, pan seared with garlic, shallots, roasted tomatoes, and fresh thyme, finished with white wine, fresh lemon juice and a splash of cream, served with Riverside mashed potatoes and seasonal vegetables………….………..$17
Chicken Picatta- A tenderized 6oz chicken breast, pan seared in butter with garlic, capers, and fresh thyme, deglazed with white wine and finished with a splash of cream and fresh lemon juice, served with Riverside mashed potatoes and seasonal vegetables …………………………….$18
Pork Chop with Port Sauce- An 8 oz. bone-in sweet brined pork chop, seared and finished with roasted shallot raisin port sauce, served with Riverside mashed potatoes and vegetables……..$21
Braised Lamb Shank- a 20oz lamb shank, slowly braised and served fork-tender, set upon a bed of Riverside mashed potatoes in a rich gravy, served with seasonal vegetables………….……$23
The Dirty Ribeye- A Riverside tradition, this 16oz. cut of choice ribeye steak is cooked directly on a bed of hard wood coals, sliced on the diagonal and drizzled with a balsamic reduction, served with Riverside mashed potatoes and seasonal vegetables……………..………………..$26
Dessert
Crème Brulee- the classic French dessert custard, made with fresh cream and vanilla beans, finished with a delicate layer of caramelized sugar…………………….……..………………$7
Riverside Tiramisu- A twist on the classic Italian dessert, made with fresh cream, mascarpone cheese, marsala wine, fine ground coffee, coco powder, and finished with espresso and brandy dipped lady finger cookies…………………………………..…………………………………$7
Mocha Pots De Crème- A French mousse, made with a mixture of chocolate, espresso, rum, and cream, served chilled……………………………………………………………………………$7
------------------------------------------------------------------
All of this was prepared superbly and impeccably presented, all with touches in taste and visuals which Danny had gleaned from his predecessors. To the end, broke and fighting heaven and earth for ways to pay the bills, we never compromised on quality or ingredients – as previously stated, we went tits-up, but we did it with our chins held high. I can say this with all honesty and without bias, prejudice or subjectivity: I still have a hard time finding a restaurant, in The River Room’s price range, that equaled Danny’s consistent output in our last few months of operation – this includes KC, Jackson, New Orleans and a dozen other cities and restaurants that I’ve dined in this past year. As I taught him most everything he knew, I’m proud to report that Danny left The Riverside and, after knocking around Denver for a few months, is now Chef de Cuisine (#2 in charge) in one of Kansas City’s finest restaurants – they knew talent when they saw it.
Our venture was categorically a financial failure, but my dream for what I envisioned in a restaurant was a rousing success – first and foremost in my mind, and by most everyone else who dined with us, exclusive of a couple of nameless, raging jackasses. If I had a plethora of restaurant choices tonight, I would pay good money to eat one last time at Chef Danny’s nearly up-to-code River Room Restaurant.
…………………………………………
One year after the fact, and one thousand three hundred safe, warm miles from our ground zero in Hot Sulphur Springs, CO, when discussing The Riverside with friends and family, Julie will say that she has many wonderful memories, perhaps enough good memories to actually drown out the sobering reality of what we lost. I will profess the opposite – from the beginning, I knew that we had made a horrific mistake and as I was the one that bore the daily, nay, hourly burden of mentally dealing with our inevitable date with doom, I could never with a clear conscience enjoy what good there was in the experience. Walks with Julie and the dogs alongside the frozen river, through crystalline snow under the imposing façade of Mt. Bross, itself made all the less imposing by the serenity of the blue sky and the timeless peace of the cottonwoods; whenever I’d lose myself in a moment that many would risk all to be able to experience on a daily basis, I couldn’t help but zap myself back to the reality of the fact that I had risked all, and the painful foreboding knowledge that all would eventually be lost. It was as if I was renting those good feelings, experiences and pleasant memories of our time in Hot Sulphur and The Riverside; I knew that eventually I’d have to turn them back in, and there would be an ugly bill due at the end of the deal – one that I couldn’t afford to pay.
In addition to carrying this psychological burden, there was physical burden that came with running The Riverside. And truthfully, I have no fond memories of doing 7-10 loads of laundry per day, 20+ loads of washing and drying dishes, glasses, pots and pans, setting and unsetting and resetting 14 tables, making and unmaking then remaking 8 queen beds, 6 fulls and 2 twins, scouring and disinfecting three showers and 6 toilets or chain sawing and hand splitting 10 cords of wood every fall. I do have very pleasant feelings knowing that I no longer have to work like a dog and net nothing.
But in honest retrospect, I can say the times I was happiest at The Riverside – when I was able to put the worries aside and get lost in the joy of the moment – occurred in The River Room. With but a very few previously noted exceptions, I enjoyed waiting on customers, interacting with them and watching as they savored the food and the ambience. I derived a great amount of joy and satisfaction from knowing that we were able to greatly exceed the expectations of most who found their way into this rickety old building in the middle of the Colorado wilderness. And although our dream turned into something of a nightmare, for a while, in a small 14-table restaurant overlooking the Colorado River, the dream was sweet.
This poor guy had something seriously wrong with his intestinal tract that caused him to continually emit the foulest of foul BM odors with unheralded regularity. And to make matters worse, they were silent emissions; without any noise to serve as a harbinger to the impending assault, you’d find yourself suddenly engulfed, overwhelmed, olfactoraly assaulted if you were anywhere within 10 feet of the dude. The fact that he wouldn’t profusely apologize after besmirching not only the immediate air, but more than likely the ozone layer as well, tells me he was possibly oblivious to his condition and certainly devoid of a sense of smell.
That wasn’t the half of it. When Chef Poopy Pants used the facilities in the lobby to expunge his system of the viral monster that created the gas, he would literally clear the room. The first few times he did his business, before we knew what ‘doing his business’ wrought, there would be me and whomever else – my spouse, Riverside employees, hotel guests – innocently occupying the lobby, and then WHAM; it was as if a lethal stink bomb, the kind that they used in WWII in deadly combat, exploded and sent those assembled scrambling for the nearest exit. I AM NOT EXAGGERATING!
After those first few tear-inducing, eye-popping bowel movements, we knew to head for the fresh Colorado mountain air the second that he made a move for the commode door. How in the world did he live through it? Again, he absolutely had to have no sense of smell, nor I’m certain a sense of touch, as the heat from the act had to have been searingly intense.
On a positive note, he really didn’t have any kitchen experience either. It turns out that the only thing he had cooked professionally was crystal meth on the summer concert festival circuit. And as far as being able to pass a drug test, he did that with flying colors. Ask him anything you’d want to know about drugs, illicit or otherwise, and he’d know all of the answers.
I will say this for the young man – he worked hard and gave it his all; but if hard work and giving it your all made you successful, I would be King of Hot Sulphur Springs, sitting riverside on a pile of gold. One week after arriving at The Riverside, Chef Poopy Pants was back in his beater of a car, heading to parts unknown.
Darin, thank you for the new kitchen equipment, but no longer will you oversee human resources at The Riverside.
The final addition to The River Room staff, before we gave up the ghost at the end of 2009, was a friend of a friend who lived in Winter Park; enter Chef Ryan, one massively large human being. Our friend played baseball with him in a recreational, all blood and guts Sunday league (fast-pitch & serious hardball played by 20-30 year-olds who were good enough to have played some small college ball). Ryan was the pitcher, and the sight of this 7’ human being on the mound with his wild hair, thick glasses and control problems would have put the bravest of hitters into the fetal position before stepping out of the dugout. This dude was huge! When looking through the food service window into the kitchen, you could see Chef Danny’s torso and the lower half of his face; Chef Ryan, you could see only his knees.
No funny stories or odd habits from Chef Ryan – he was big, quiet and steady as a rock; not in Danny’s league for being able to cook, but more than adequate in helping Danny put together stellar meals night after night. The last summer of the restaurants operation, which other than the 2009 Christmas season and a few weekends here and there in 2010, was when Danny really had the opportunity to come into his own as a ‘Chef’, and he took full hold of it. His menus were sophisticated, but accessible to the type of clientele that lived in Grand County or would visit a historic hotel in an out-of-the-way locale; you didn’t need a degree in ancient colloquial Italian to select an entrée. Herewith follows the final official menu of The River Room restaurant, courtesy of Chef Danny.
Winter, 2009
Appetizers
Wild Mushroom Bruschetta- A plate of our house made crostinis topped with black olive tapenade, shitake, oyster, and cremini mushrooms sautéed with garlic, fresh basil and lemon juice…………$8
Roasted Garlic Hummus- A mixture of smashed chick peas, roasted garlic, fresh lemon juice, spices, finished with a touch of black truffle oil, served with warm pita bread……………………………..$7
Smoked Salmon- Fresh salmon, brined then slowly smoked over hickory & mesquite wood, served with our house made crostinis, lemon wedges, capers, and truffled aioli………………………………………$9
Entrees
All entrees served with either house salad or soup of the day
Trout Almandine- a filet of ruby red trout, pan seared, topped with sliced almonds and finished with Triple Sec, served with Riverside mashed potato and seasonal vegetables………………$20
Swai Jardiniere- A delicate white fish filet, pan seared with garlic, shallots, roasted tomatoes, and fresh thyme, finished with white wine, fresh lemon juice and a splash of cream, served with Riverside mashed potatoes and seasonal vegetables………….………..$17
Chicken Picatta- A tenderized 6oz chicken breast, pan seared in butter with garlic, capers, and fresh thyme, deglazed with white wine and finished with a splash of cream and fresh lemon juice, served with Riverside mashed potatoes and seasonal vegetables …………………………….$18
Pork Chop with Port Sauce- An 8 oz. bone-in sweet brined pork chop, seared and finished with roasted shallot raisin port sauce, served with Riverside mashed potatoes and vegetables……..$21
Braised Lamb Shank- a 20oz lamb shank, slowly braised and served fork-tender, set upon a bed of Riverside mashed potatoes in a rich gravy, served with seasonal vegetables………….……$23
The Dirty Ribeye- A Riverside tradition, this 16oz. cut of choice ribeye steak is cooked directly on a bed of hard wood coals, sliced on the diagonal and drizzled with a balsamic reduction, served with Riverside mashed potatoes and seasonal vegetables……………..………………..$26
Dessert
Crème Brulee- the classic French dessert custard, made with fresh cream and vanilla beans, finished with a delicate layer of caramelized sugar…………………….……..………………$7
Riverside Tiramisu- A twist on the classic Italian dessert, made with fresh cream, mascarpone cheese, marsala wine, fine ground coffee, coco powder, and finished with espresso and brandy dipped lady finger cookies…………………………………..…………………………………$7
Mocha Pots De Crème- A French mousse, made with a mixture of chocolate, espresso, rum, and cream, served chilled……………………………………………………………………………$7
------------------------------------------------------------------
All of this was prepared superbly and impeccably presented, all with touches in taste and visuals which Danny had gleaned from his predecessors. To the end, broke and fighting heaven and earth for ways to pay the bills, we never compromised on quality or ingredients – as previously stated, we went tits-up, but we did it with our chins held high. I can say this with all honesty and without bias, prejudice or subjectivity: I still have a hard time finding a restaurant, in The River Room’s price range, that equaled Danny’s consistent output in our last few months of operation – this includes KC, Jackson, New Orleans and a dozen other cities and restaurants that I’ve dined in this past year. As I taught him most everything he knew, I’m proud to report that Danny left The Riverside and, after knocking around Denver for a few months, is now Chef de Cuisine (#2 in charge) in one of Kansas City’s finest restaurants – they knew talent when they saw it.
Our venture was categorically a financial failure, but my dream for what I envisioned in a restaurant was a rousing success – first and foremost in my mind, and by most everyone else who dined with us, exclusive of a couple of nameless, raging jackasses. If I had a plethora of restaurant choices tonight, I would pay good money to eat one last time at Chef Danny’s nearly up-to-code River Room Restaurant.
…………………………………………
One year after the fact, and one thousand three hundred safe, warm miles from our ground zero in Hot Sulphur Springs, CO, when discussing The Riverside with friends and family, Julie will say that she has many wonderful memories, perhaps enough good memories to actually drown out the sobering reality of what we lost. I will profess the opposite – from the beginning, I knew that we had made a horrific mistake and as I was the one that bore the daily, nay, hourly burden of mentally dealing with our inevitable date with doom, I could never with a clear conscience enjoy what good there was in the experience. Walks with Julie and the dogs alongside the frozen river, through crystalline snow under the imposing façade of Mt. Bross, itself made all the less imposing by the serenity of the blue sky and the timeless peace of the cottonwoods; whenever I’d lose myself in a moment that many would risk all to be able to experience on a daily basis, I couldn’t help but zap myself back to the reality of the fact that I had risked all, and the painful foreboding knowledge that all would eventually be lost. It was as if I was renting those good feelings, experiences and pleasant memories of our time in Hot Sulphur and The Riverside; I knew that eventually I’d have to turn them back in, and there would be an ugly bill due at the end of the deal – one that I couldn’t afford to pay.
In addition to carrying this psychological burden, there was physical burden that came with running The Riverside. And truthfully, I have no fond memories of doing 7-10 loads of laundry per day, 20+ loads of washing and drying dishes, glasses, pots and pans, setting and unsetting and resetting 14 tables, making and unmaking then remaking 8 queen beds, 6 fulls and 2 twins, scouring and disinfecting three showers and 6 toilets or chain sawing and hand splitting 10 cords of wood every fall. I do have very pleasant feelings knowing that I no longer have to work like a dog and net nothing.
But in honest retrospect, I can say the times I was happiest at The Riverside – when I was able to put the worries aside and get lost in the joy of the moment – occurred in The River Room. With but a very few previously noted exceptions, I enjoyed waiting on customers, interacting with them and watching as they savored the food and the ambience. I derived a great amount of joy and satisfaction from knowing that we were able to greatly exceed the expectations of most who found their way into this rickety old building in the middle of the Colorado wilderness. And although our dream turned into something of a nightmare, for a while, in a small 14-table restaurant overlooking the Colorado River, the dream was sweet.
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