Columbus Monthly / September 2011 / Open for business

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Open for business

Think it’s easy opening a restaurant? Follow the crew of Milestone 229 in the days leading up to its debut.

It’s a really hot day in early July, and Columbus residents have shown up in droves to celebrate the grand opening of Scioto Mile. They can’t help but notice Milestone 229, the park’s stylish restaurant. People peek through the tall windows, eager to get a glimpse of its intriguing, circular design.

Inside, things are a bit chaotic. AEP is hosting a private party with a guest list that includes Gov. John Kasich and Mayor Mike Coleman. Bartenders are mixing drinks faster than servers can deliver them, and kitchen staffers, led by executive chef Christian Hattemer, are just trying to keep their heads above water.

Co-owners Doug Griggs and Mike Campbell and general manager Kevin Jones are all smiles, despite the pressure they’re feeling. Beads of sweat have formed on their brows, and by night’s end, the stress is hard to hide. Opening a new restaurant isn’t for the faint of heart, and these guys know it.

After months of construction, designing, planning, hiring and training, the moment has arrived, and they’re ready—or as ready as they’ll ever be, they say.

As the AEP party quietly ends, the doors to Milestone 229 open to the public, and the response is bigger than any of them anticipated. As temperatures continue to swell over the next few weeks, so do the crowds, eager to experience Milestone and perhaps play around in the fountains adjacent to the restaurant. Even though it’s been a crazy six months for Hattemer, who’s been working 14 to 16 hour days, he’s still holding on to his sense of humor. “Right now, I’m aiming for a day off a week,” he says a few weeks after Milestone’s debut. “If we can do that, man, I’d be so happy.” For Hattemer and the rest of the crew, launching an impressive new restaurant hasn’t been a walk in the park.

Two years ago, folks from the Columbus Downtown Development Corp./Capitol South approached Griggs and Campbell, co-owners of Columbus Brewing Company. The city’s development bureau was planning to create a new city park, they said, and their initial research had shown people are more likely to frequent a park if there’s a restaurant. The folks at CDDC wanted to pick the brains of two guys who had a good thing going. “They liked Columbus Brewing Company,” says Griggs. For Scioto Mile, “They wanted something not too expensive, chef-driven and a scratch [fresh] menu.”

Eventually, CDDC began accepting business proposals from interested restaurateurs around town. Griggs says the proposal process is intended to be realistic versus idealistic: You basically have to know exactly what you want the place to be before even knowing if your proposal is successful. (Imagine forming a concept, creating menus and developing a business plan, then not being selected.) After submitting their idea and waiting nearly three months, Griggs and Campbell heard the good news from CDDC: They got it.

Construction of the restaurant’s shell started in late 2009. Plans called for a scenic placement of the building so guests can enjoy the beautiful view through floor-to-ceiling windows facing the river. The patio also offers a front-and-center view of the Scioto, and there’s a cozy outdoor bar (which was installed only a week before opening day).

The structure’s modern design posed challenges during the construction, especially when it came to the kitchen. Chef Hattemer says he wasn’t the biggest fan of the design team’s initial intent for the kitchen. So he cut up elements of the plan he liked, added a few outside inspirations and glued everything to a poster board. “They looked and said it made sense, so I was able to keep being a part of that process,” he says. The kitchen space is a bit unusual because of the building’s slanted design: There’s a split kitchen, which means food prep takes place in both the main kitchen and a smaller open kitchen behind the bar that houses a large pizza oven.

Griggs says in the initial planning process, there was talk of closing the restaurant for nearly six months each year—the fear being that in colder weather, the space might lose some of its ambience, along with diners who appreciate the view. While that could still be a concern, Griggs says closing the restaurant for half the year wasn’t a business model the city wanted. Neither did he, since it would force him to hire a new serving staff each year, and there wouldn’t be a need for as many chefs and managers. “People need to love the atmosphere and the food,” he says.

During an early training session about a week before the restaurant is set to open, Jones is sitting on a bar stool with a dozen or so servers gathered around him. The staff has been split into several rotating training meetings taught by different managers. Jones, in charge of an icebreaker activity, reminds the group that in order to become a family at work, you have to know and care about people’s lives outside of the restaurant. “It’s the way we do business here,” he says. Servers take turns telling the group about themselves. One waitress is a graphic designer who teaches at Columbus State and has “a dog, two cats and a house for sale.” A waiter in his early 20s says he’s been working in restaurants since “my side lost” during the latest election cycle. (He holds a political science degree.)

Managers Stacy Connors and April Denton take on the task of instructing the mostly young staff on how to handle tables. They remind people that the tables are their real estate, so they need to look good. And if there’s a group of women sitting at a table, it’s probably best not to greet them by saying, “Hey, guys!” There’s also the ever-important menu rap, which is a chance to personalize the service and talk about their favorite dishes. The goal is for servers to greet their customers no longer than 90 seconds after they’ve been seated. “Don’t ever leave anybody sitting. Just walk by and at least say hello,” says Denton.

Throughout training, Griggs and Jones enforce the idea that good hospitality is about making “raving fans.” As Campbell says, “You’re trying to create apostles, and they go out and spread the word. If they have a bad experience, they tell 13 people, but if they have a good time, they might only tell seven.” The first impression is key to a new restaurant’s eventual success (or demise).

The kitchen staff also is already hard at work. By the time the restaurant reaches opening day, the kitchen crew has put in its fair share of overtime . . . and then some. Hattemer says he—along with sous chefs Nick Lombardo and Matt White—each worked more than 100 hours over a 10-day period. (Lombardo is Campbell’s nephew and White is Griggs’s stepson.)

Perhaps the most challenging aspect of training for the kitchen staff is the menu rollout: three consecutive, intense days when a third of the menu is “rolled out” (or prepared) each night. Not only does this benefit the servers, who ideally get to taste everything on the menu, but it’s vital practice for the sous chefs and line cooks, some of whom have only seen the completed dishes once or twice at this point.

During the first night of the rollout, which starts just 10 days before the doors open to the public, servers are assembled into small groups. While they nibble on lavash bread with pimento cheese and calamari with Thai chili sauce, Hattemer makes a grand appearance from the kitchen to discuss the food from his perspective. As the house salad rolls out, Hattemer says to the crowd in a high-pitch, sing-song voice, “The first round of croutons we did this morning suuuucked!” (The group loves him.)

The chef’s philosophy about preparing food is a huge influence behind this almost-all-Ohio menu. The Gerber chickens, which hail from northeastern Ohio, are free range, hormone free and fed no meat, Hattemer says. “I think they might even sing them lullabies at night,” he adds, greeted by laughter. The shrimp comes from the Gulf of Mexico, though. He says it’s important to support an industry that’s been struggling since the BP oil spill in 2010.

The rollout looks a lot different from the kitchen’s perspective than it does to those tasting the food. While sous chefs and line cooks are cutting veggies and frying meat in the background, Hattemer is talking about how most chefs are terrible eaters. “I had a loaf of bread and some French cheese for dinner,” he says, laughing. And although you might assume the executive chef is tirelessly preparing every plate that leaves the kitchen, you would be wrong. “The further you move up in this business, the less cooking you do,” he explains. His job is about menu creation, organization, teaching and observation of the other chefs.

There’s no tension in the dining room, where groups are waiting for food, but it’s palpable in the kitchen when things start to go awry. There’s an issue with one of the burgers not having enough housemade Thousand Island dressing, so the cooks are told to start over. “We don’t want to be shy about it,” says the chef, wiping sweat from his brow.

It’s been a stressful night. Some of the tickets from the computer used to ring up checks are not printing correctly and/or have missing info. The fancy pizza oven is burning food, so that will need fixed. And Hattemer is frustrated because he’s wearing a headset so he can talk to one of his sous chefs stationed in the split kitchen, and it doesn’t seem to be his favorite way to communicate. At one point, Jones walks into the kitchen to see if Hattemer is OK. He asks if there’s anything he can do for him. Hattemer, looking tired and frustrated, says no.

Later, it’s interesting to note the difference of opinion in regard to the menu rollouts. Always the optimist, Griggs starts off by saying everything went well. After he talks for a couple of minutes, however, his optimism unravels a bit. “When we know what we’re carrying out isn’t what we want, we’re getting a little frustrated,” he admits. “We’re all getting a little tired.”

Jones says it’s been a hectic week, especially for the servers, since they have to pass tests each day. After each rollout, they’re quizzed the following day to ensure they can answer any question a diner might pose about a specific dish. They’re given Excel sheets with the names of the menu items and are required to fill in the blanks with a list of ingredients and preparation notes. If people don’t perform well on the tests, it’s not necessarily the end of the road, though. “We want to build people up. Maybe it’s more about one-on-one coaching. It’s not a black and white thing. There are places like that, but that’s not what we want to be,” Jones says.

Hattemer looks ready to let loose after the final night of rollouts. He has a practice run the next day, followed by two days off before the “real” guests arrive for a preview dinner. As he swirls red wine around in his glass, he looks somewhat peaceful for the first time in days. “Everyone is tired, and things are a little frayed. We’ve put so much into trying to make it a certain way, so we really want it to be what we were talking about and saw before,” he says. He’s a little frustrated by some of the comments on feedback sheets from other staff members. “They’re expecting perfection and everything to be done exactly right. I’m trying to teach 10 guys at once how to cook a couple of dishes.”

But unlike some chefs, Hattemer has no problem giving credit where it’s due. “When you’re a sous chef, in a lot of ways, you’re the bitch of the kitchen. You’re working a lot, not getting a whole lot of recognition. You won’t be going to demos and you won’t be in the paper, but hopefully you’re learning and working with someone who is willing to teach you.”

Hattemer admits it’s hard for chefs to ask for help. He gave up the task of writing the wine list even though he loves wine. He just didn’t have time. And he’s pretty sure his neighbors think he’s crazy because his grass is a foot tall. “It’s hard getting laundry done, getting the grass cut . . . getting anything done that doesn’t have to do with the 14 hours I spend here.”

Jeannie Griggs, Doug’s wife, is the unofficial décor shopper for the restaurant, buying light bulbs and adding personal touches to the bathrooms. During a training session, Jeannie offers a unique perspective on opening this place, since her husband is married to the project, too. “He’ll wake up in the middle of the night, saying things in his sleep,” she says. “It’s on his mind constantly.”

As opening day draws near, Hattemer says you have to learn to let go of the small stuff. “I’m impressed that when it was time to put everything on the plate, it was there,” he says. “There’s a lot I would do differently or tweak, but I have to give up on things right now.”

In the days leading up to Milestone 229’s grand opening, preview guests included familiar faces such as 10TV anchor Andrea Cambern, former astronaut and U.S. Sen. John Glenn and his wife, Annie, and Mayor Coleman, perhaps Scioto Mile’s most vocal supporter. For the restaurant crew, it seems the to-do list only lengthens the closer Milestone gets to opening its doors on July 7. The staff took a couple of days off over the July 4 weekend, but Hattemer, Griggs and Jones all showed up, taking care of one thing or another. Campbell, who also owns a construction company on the east side, was there, too, sealing the floors before the first preview dinner. In fact, Griggs, Hattemer, other staff and a few family members and friends watched Red, White & Boom from the restaurant’s patio, an idyllic ending to months of toil. It seems that even on their days off, they can’t stay away. As Griggs says, if you work in this industry long enough, it’s in your blood.

Taylor Swope is an assistant editor for Columbus Monthly.