Om Restaurant and Lounge in Cambridge Falls Shy of Expectations

After a stroll down JFK Street in Harvard Square I was struck by just how much things had changed, but never so much as at our dining destination, OM Restaurant and Lounge.

Just through the impressive wooden door on Winthrop Street lies one of Cambridge's hippest and most diverse drinking and dining spots to date. Flowing modern wall art meets Asian traditional in this artfully designed restaurant.

The lounge, dark and funky, sports a fantastic cocktail list tempting the senses with tastes not so commonly found in a glass. My husband and I enjoyed the Lychee Martini, light and sweet. This nicely balanced fruit cocktail threatens to put the dusty old Cosmo in the attic.

The current Chef, Youssef Boujana has crafted an interesting menu, not particularly seasonal, but as fun to look at as eat. An inventive collection of ingredients skillfully combined, to mostly, good result. A pretty little salad of Beets and Goat Cheese arrived perfectly dressed although the goat cheese had been chilled, assumedly to assist its spherical shape, and was too cold to really taste with rest of the salad. Oddly the restaurant has elected not to offer bread. Too bad, it would have been a nice match for our salad and Moules Frite. It seems incongruous to offer such standards, then skip the traditional accompaniments.

The problems with the restaurant lie mostly with the service. Our waitress, pleasant and genuine, failed to bring our wine until we had completed our first course. The winelist I should mention, has no offerings for less than 40 a bottle. After ordering the Rib Eye (Medium Rare), and the Hanger Steak (Medium), two beautiful steaks arrived with perfectly cooked vegetables and lovely rich sides. The Truffled Mac-n-Cheese, though not particularly appropriate for the heat of a Boston Summer, was a meal all in itself. The steaks were also of very high quality and perfectly seasoned. Unfortunately, the Rib Eye was nearly medium well and at $32 not really acceptable. The waitress happily informed the kitchen that a new steak was necessary but left us with our two plates to eat what we could while the steak cooked. Usually in a restaurant commanding this price point, it would be customary to remove both plates and re-serve the entire course after the new steak was finished. Alas, a new, perfectly medium rare steak did arrive 15 minutes later, but by then we had eaten our sides and the other entree and were too full to enjoy it. A melting Chocolate Cake was delicious but neither melting, nor even warm.

While crawling over the stack of beer kegs to get to the restroom, the $200 bill still stinging a little, I wished the lounge scene didn't so threaten to overshadow the work of a serious chef. Strewn with toilet paper and debris, I quickly remembered this was the bathroom of a very hip lounge and the restaurant felt like noise in the back round.

Despite the rookie service, Om is worth a trip. The kool space and funky menu are a breath of fresh air in the old school collection of Harvard Square. Hopefully the service will come up to a more polished level providing the business with a nice long run as a cutting edge food spot.

Chef On A Diet

Here sits Kimberly...still wrapped in an extra 15 or so, post baby poundage. Declan, that's baby #2, is approaching his first birthday in a couple of weeks and its official, I need to get back in shape. Unfortunately there are few things less enticing to a chef than a diet. I do have one thing going for me. I'm not presently cheffing so I am at least not trying to diet on the fly. Ever try to cut calories or stay in your target food group while serving toasted ham sandwiches with hand cut fries or beautiful steaks with fresh garlic mashed potatoes? Not really enjoyable. (Just my humble opinion.) I mean, I love fresh fruit as much as anyone but when your starving and theres a Reuben in front of you, sliced pineapple sounds like a lot of work.

The same goes for feeding children, which happens to be my main occupation these days. Oh and husbands too. I must not forget the hubby! Some days as I eat another plate of Garden Burgers and salad, I can barely resist the urge to stuff an entire toasted cheese sandwich in my mouth after my toddler refuses it. I doubt I need to point out that this sandwich has full fat cheddar and is toasted in really good butter...mmmm excuse me I think I need a moment.

Then theres the hubster who after a workout will inhale a thoughtfully made meal like it was a kiddie size Mac Donalds cheeseburger and follow it up with a couple bowls of cereal for dessert. Grrrr did you even notice if that tasted good? I'm just wondering cause I made it for you and can't eat it myself...

Whatever. Dieting or not, I'm still a chef. Guess I always will be. Although I now cook only for those I love, my peeves are still intact.

Step back! You can't touch my sushi!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!And don't even think about sharing my cocktail. I had to shave calories all day to have that you know!

Is it a chef thing or does everyone have issues about the way people consume their food? I'd love to hear it.

My Boss the Party Girl

My very first chef's position was a complete disaster. I had so little idea how to staff a kitchen for production, and judging the existing staff was of little importance at the time of my hire. I thought I could fix anything in a strange, youthful sort of optimistic way. But was I wrong.

I interviewed with the General Manager first. A twenty something artist wanna be with a liberal arts degree and a father who owned some mediocre food shops, mostly pasta shacks. She was close to my age and seemed OK at first.

This was a re-concepting of an existing restaurant. Papa Pasta had decided to appease his spoiled little angel and give her a upscale property despite the fact she had never even worked in one. Nor had he ever owned one.

Soon after taking over, I was awarded a rag tag team of mostly non-English speaking line cooks from various high volume pasta shops the family already operated. None were trained, but all were quite opposed to taking direction from a 25 year old woman. One or two even felt put out that they had not been selected to lead the new venture as Head Chef and began working against me at every turn. This was problematic enough but they were not fireable. Yes, that's right. When I attempted to replace them, the owner, Papa Pasta, told me they were "family". Hmm.

Here began the beginning of a very hard couple of months which I would never even put on my resume due to its obvious lack of foresight and the fact that I stayed only 3 months. The first eight weeks entailed my calling every contact I ever had in the industry to pull together a real menu, wine list, inventory of kitchen wares, and purveyors. Usually, the chef needs only handle the kitchen. The general manager does the rest, consulting with the chef where appropriate. I actually had to convince the the owners that we needed the cups and saucers to match. They couldn't see the need for this frivolity at first.

You would not believe the rag tag group of thieves these folks were accustomed to doing business prior to this. Despite my begging, the owner refused flatly to replace some of the nearly antique equipment on the hot line. A request he should have considered closely and whose refusal resulted in a fryolater going on fire during Friday night service. I guess every chef needs to learn how to fight a grease fire at some point in their career.


Soon after opening, the 21 year old G.M. discovered that she had acquired the perfect place to drink with her pals. The restaurant had a private dining area which was not yet booked and so it mostly sat dark, closed off by a heavy drape. We would open at 4:30, do some decent cocktail business at the bar, and then due to the absence of any reservation system, wait until 7:00pm when the hostess and manager would bring one table after another into the 120 seat dining room. A flat seating of 100 to 120 guests in 10 minutes with 4 cooks and a dishwasher in the kitchen would be the result night after night. While the insanity of endless slam played out in the kitchen, Miss G.M. would assemble friends, co-workers, employees and sometimes romantic interests in the Private Dining Room for cocktails and general debauchery. Often, while walking through the dining room looking in a panic for a manager to handle an irate customer, I could smell the pungent odor of marijuana wafting into the main area from the PDR. Man! Where do I get a job like that?

One night when it was kinda quiet, my sous chef actually walked in on the GM having sex with "boyfriend of the week" in the banquets. I had enough. I spoke to the owner and tried my best to frame it so I didn't need to say his daughter was smoking dope, drinking and screwing everyone in sight inside his restaurant during business. It was harder to do than I expected. Papa Pasta eventually invited little Miss 21, to join us to iron out the situation. Great. She acted wounded and shocked. Give this girl the Academy Award. I was dumbstruck, and maybe just plain dumb, cause the owner responded that he was very unhappy we were not getting on well because he could never side against his own blood. Even if she was wrong.

I packed my knives and walked outside in my whites totally exhausted. What a ride. I had been fired after opening a restaurant almost single handedly. I can only pray for karmic correction.

5 Reasons to Keep Your Kids Out of the Food Business

While I really loved working in restaurants for many years, there comes a point at which everyone must assess their work environment and make some broad decisions. The buzz and adrenaline which dominate the commercial kitchen are exciting when you are young enough to believe you can maintain that sort of stress level. Eventually, most of us, calm down. At that point we are considering a family or need to get above the average pay scale offered to most chefs. Bring on the revelation...unless you own the business, very few chefs will ever really make good money. Forget about great money. You can do slightly better if you go corporate or institutional but that sounds like about as much fun to a young chef as a party with no cocktails. Worse is that, if you make the jump to chef/proprietor , kiss your life goodbye. You just bought a 24/7 kind of, never ending stress with a very crappy profit margin.

Here are some good arguments to present your kid when they insist they want to go to culinary school.

1. The industry enjoys one of the highest incidences of drug and alcohol abuse you can find.

Long hours, unreasonable stress levels, and constant scheduling problems drive the average restaurant employee to need to have a few after work. Why not? Generally its a perk of the industry and its free.

2. If you complain, you will be earmarked for dismissal or told you are in the wrong business. Now what will you do with your culinary degree?

Drink that cool aid! You need only look online at mainstream job postings to find several food related positions who proudly state front and center that they expect you "to drink the punch". I found one myself this morning. (Yes, it actually said that in the body of the job listing.) It prompted me to write this article.

Translation - get it done any way you must; work overtime, cancel vacation, fire people or threaten to, take shortcuts, work with the flu...whatever.

When you break down the average salary of $70,000 for a chef, its works out to about $23 an hour. That is if you can keep your work week below 60 hours... somehow, I think that's not so much for the commitment. The other missing piece of this puzzle is that you will have to work your way up for at least 5 or more years at an hourly that will never cover repayment of your student loans.

3.You are unlikely to become a celebrity chef.

Most chefs no matter how talented or hard working will never rise to celebrity status. This is unfortunate since most young chefs clearly aspire to this. Thank you food television. Few people will ever actually see the less glamorous parts until they are well indoctrinated.

4. You will have a hell of a time maintaining relationships outside the industry or even inside it. The professional restaurant business has one of the worst track records for divorce. If you are lucky enough to find someone compatible inside the industry, you will still never see them unless you work in the same place. Which brings me to point out how incestuous the industry really is. I already blogged about that.

5. You can't do it when your body starts to go south.

You will butcher in refrigerated rooms, cook on lines that exceed 120 degrees, and stand in excess of 15 hours a day for years on end. Get back to me after your 38th birthday and we'll discuss how much you still love it. Its backbreaking, physical labor. If you are unlucky enough to have arthritis or any other disabling physical condition, I hope you saved enough to retire cause there are few places to go.


My 2 year old asked us to make her cardboard hut into a restaurant a few weeks back. Shortly thereafter, we were playing and she demanded $14 for pizza and fries. When I said that was expensive and asked for something else, she responded indignantly, "go to somebody Else's restaurant if you want that."

Oh God NO! Kinda sounds like a young chef's perspective. I hope it passes.

Vegas Called, They Need a Cocktail

I have this very hip kid sister who lives in Las Vegas. She works as a VIP host for a busy nightclub and regularly has to go cocktailing with her clients. Whenever she is home, she wants to go to my local haunt, The West Side Lounge to get one particular cocktail. Its called a Stardust. In the Boston area you can get it at a few spots with kickin bartenders. Apparently, in Vegas, you cannot.

At least not until now, cause I have the recipe.

Heres to you kid!

Stardust Cocktail

3 oz White Rum, (please no rot gut)
1 oz Parfait Amour
1/2 Fresh Lemon, juiced

Put the whole thing in a shaker with a lot of ice and shake the crap out of it. Few people understand that chilled cocktails actually require a certain amount of the ice melting into the drink to get the flavors and temperature right, so shake longer than you think you need to.

Strain the mixture into a chilled martini glass and garnish with an orange rind twist.

For the uninitiated, a twist is the oily peel , without the white pith, of any citrus fruit. You twist it over the glass and wipe the edge to impart the natural oil. Really, don't skip it. Its a awesome touch.

Bottoms Up!

Just Put the Coke Straw Down

While surfing the vast array of restaurant blogs, websites and general bitch sessions, I recently happened upon a 15 page rant about someone I had the misfortune of interacting with years ago to absolutely miserable result. Apparently, if you want to let the world know you hate someone's guts in the business...there is a forum. No names here, but it did inspire me to know so many angry others had suffered through this SOB's mood swings and lack of respect.

Ah yes, I remember it well.

I was pretty new to the world of professional kitchens but I was learning really fast and had made a friend of my Chef/boss at my last position. Since he was a huge force on the scene at that time, he agreed to put his stamp of approval on me and call around for cooking trials in the kitchens of my choice. My mentor if you will. I chose one he didn't really recommend. Something about needing to reprimand the that chef constantly for keeping his right hand inside his shorts while he cooked...it seemed everyone had worked for my mentor at some point. For some reason I persisted and the call was made.

I arrived exactly on time with my knife kit and a pristine set of kitchen whites in a back pack. The manager or waitperson, not sure, looks me over, asks if I'm trying out for a position and hands me a waiter's apron. I explain I'm here to work in the kitchen and am met with the most apologetic glance I have ever seen. "You sure?" she asks. So I'm led to the kitchen and deposited in a chair outside the kitchen office where I wait, and wait, and wait. Finally I get to met the esteemed chef I have so meticulously selected.

Chef "So,(insert famous chef name here) says your gonna be a superstar. Wants me to give you a try. Hope you brought it if you want to work here?"

Walks to a metal table and throws a box of fish on it.

"Butcher these. (Spouts off some weights and vague directions) and don't fuck it up."

At this point the chef leaves for the night. FYI it's Friday afternoon.

I now have the inexplicable pleasure of working with his second in command. A tyrant trained by an egomaniac. This guy has some combination of complexes, none of them good. He informs me that I will be working lead saute station since I am rumored to be all that. At this point, its pretty clear they do not want me to work here but I decide to try my best and just get through the night. Take the high road kind of thing.

As one might expect, midway through the Friday slam, I start to get confused. Not really shocking when you consider that a carnival attendant gets more training to sell cotton candy. The Sous chef throws me off the line and inquires "where I learned to destroy food like that?" This from a guy who had just put a steak into the microwave when the orders were bogging down! Next comes a barrage of insults like "that's why there are no women in this kitchen" or my personal fave, "next time I say jump, you suck my d**k."

The icing on the cake was that I was naive enough to stay to help clean up after this nonsense. The entire crew, except me, filed off the line and got a beer but not before the sous chef brought me a bucket and scrub sponge. What an idiot, I was so young still... I actually did it.

Some time later rumors began to circulate about this property being in financial trouble due to the Chef's habit. I guess employees were jumping like rats from a ship on fire.

And guess who called to see if I still wanted a job?

Really Authentic Tempura Batter

I admit it, I'm on a diet. As any one who has needed to drop a few knows, much of your favorite stuff is not on the menu. So I'm sitting here craving tempura anything and thought you might like to give it a whirl. Let me know how it went so I can live vicariously.

It works exactly the same for shellfish, veggies, or chicken but you need to be sure the pieces are thin enough to cook through relatively quickly or the batter will burn before the food is cooked through. My favorite is with a mix of shrimp and veggies (cooked separately for timing).

The recipe is really easy, but you need to make the batter when you are ready to fry, it won't hold.

Tempura Batter
1.5C Rice Flour
1.5C Corn Starch
1.5C Chilled Soda Water
1 whole egg, beaten
Pure Peanut Oil for frying

Preheat your peanut oil to 375 degrees.

Precut your veggies and peel and devein your shrimp. I like, shitake caps, sweet potato, red peppers and green beans. I also suggest buying white shrimp if you have a choice. They are firmer and have a better result.

Into a medium size bowl, place the starch and rice flour. Mix with a fork.

With a fork, or chopsticks beat the egg until its uniform. Mix the egg into the soda and quickly whisk the liquids into the flour starch mixture. It will seem to clump, just keep it moving until all the liquid is in.

One piece at a time dip the food pieces into the batter and place them directly into hot oil. You will need to dangle the food in the oil until the bottom just sets and then drop it in. Start with the items which take the longest like the fish or protein. Flip the frying items with a fork to ensure even color. The batter will appear light and uniform when ready.

Remove the pieces to a plate or rack with paper toweling and salt immediately after removing from the oil.

Serve with traditional soy dipping sauce...

Dip Sauce
1/4C soy
2T sugar
2T rice vinegar
1T minced ginger, garlic, scallion.