Chefs trained in S.F. seeking quality of life in rural areas
Just three years ago, Jake and Shauna Des Voignes were names that San Francisco foodwatchers knew well: Jake as the chef of Local Mission Eatery, Shauna as the chef-owner of Knead Patisserie. In 2015, though, Shauna Des Voigne’s grandfather offered to sell the couple his 20-acre farm outside Lodi in San Joaquin County. The couple gave up steady wages for the lesssecure income from wine grape contracts — and the hope of opening a bakery-restaurant featuring pastries made from fruit from their own farm.
One of the deciding factors: the birth of their son Henry, now 2. “We had the opportunity as kids to run around and play, and we wanted the same thing for our children,” Jake Des Voignes said.
San Francisco has become notoriously light on kids like Henry; it’s the major U.S. city with the lowest percentage of households with children.
The cost of living in the Bay Area means that many cooks ambitious enough to want both a restaurant career and a family must move on. More and more, the city is serving as a finishing school, sending chefs trained in its best restaurants to Sacramento and Portland, Ore., Massachusetts and Arizona.
Rural Northern California is seeing the culinary effects of this outmigration, too. Bay Area chefs are opening restaurants in small towns where food of the caliber they make has long been rare.
In Philo (Mendocino County), for instance, Gary Danko alumnus Patrick Meany bakes Neapolitan-style pizzas at Stone & Embers. In Arroyo Grande (San Luis Obispo County), Chez Panisse veteran Brian Collins practices woodfire cooking at Ember. At Park Winters Inn in Winters (Yolo County), Scott Ostrander, who spent several years at Alinea in Chicago, oversees seven-course tasting menus.
Like the Des Voignes, the appeal of raising a son in a smaller town lured Jim and Michele Wimborough away from their positions as chef and pastry chef at Zut! On Fourth in Berkeley to Occidental (Sonoma County), where they opened Hazel almost two years ago. “We still work 15 hours a day, but our kid goes to school down the street,” Jim Wimborough said.
A different kind of family appeal brought Zach Sterner, a sous-chef at the Michelin-starred Solbar in Calistoga, up to Penn Valley (Nevada County) last year. In his case, it was his parents, who had been mulling the idea of opening a restaurant for years. When the Sterners opened Twelve 28 Kitchen at the end of December, the 32-yearold saw it as his big professional break.
“We could have opened up someplace in Sonoma, but our rent would be at least three times more than what we’re paying here,” he said. “We’ve got a nice spot and are doing everything we want to do.”
At Twelve 28 Kitchen, Sterner’s father runs the front of the house, his mother bakes the breads and pastries, one sister waits tables, and another comes up from Rohnert Park to help out. Zach Sterner, finally in charge of his own kitchen, turns out dishes like spring allium risotto with salted egg yolk grated on top and pan-roasted white bass with baby artichokes, potatoes and barigoule sauce.
Living in rural Mendocino County brought one burned-out San Francisco chef back into the restaurant industry. By his mid-20s, Aaron Peters had run the kitchens at PlumpJack Cafe and Aram’s. But he and his then-wife gave up restaurants to farm organically near the coastal city of Point Arena (population under 500).
A divorce left Peters without a farm after a decade of selling produce at Mendocino County farmers’ markets. In April 2016, he scraped together his savings and opened Bird Cafe and Supper Club, connected to a bar on the town’s main street. He opens four nights a week, cooking almost everything himself. He buys octopus and crab from a guy who fishes at the coast, and cheese from a dairy farmer friend. His lettuces are picked each morning on nearby farms.
Peters takes a break in the afternoon to walk his 6-year-old daughter home from school, and sometimes brings her into the kitchen with him.
“I used to work 16hour days, 6 days a week, and then sleep all day on the seventh,” he said. “I could never imagine doing that and having a kid and feel like I was involved.”
Yet small towns are not necessarily idyllic for restaurateurs. A big advantage of moving far from any major city, of course, is the cost of rent. The disadvantages, though, are many.
The shipping routes for San Francisco produce companies do not extend as far as Point Arena or Penn Valley. The fish truck may come around only one day a week. Instead of 10 imported-goods companies, the chefs are limited to big restaurant-supply companies.
Finding experienced cooks is hard. Same with servers who have dined at high-end restaurants, let alone ones who know how to sell $70 bottles of Pinot Noir. The Des Voignes have struggled to find the right space in Lodi, one that is not located in a strip mall and doesn’t require hundreds of thousands dollars in renovations.
As the couple sells their baked goods at farmers’ markets, they ponder how to make their food financially sustainable. “What people are willing to pay in the Bay Area is different,” Jake said. “We don’t want to isolate ourselves.”
It takes a steady stream of people with ready money to support restaurants. And wages are lower outside the big cities. According to the California Employment Development Department, the average per capita income in San Francisco as of 2013 (the latest year available) was $84,356. In Mendocino County, it was $40,721; in Nevada County, $50,148.
Smaller populations and lower average income may also mean that dining rooms don’t fill quite as full, and that locals don’t go out as much. For Bay Areatrained chefs, it means creating menus that welcome everyone in the community, be it a San Francisco expat who misses kimchi, mole and tweezer food or a farmer who just wants a bite after a long day.
“In the summertime you’re really counting on tourists to show up. Lots of people have vacation homes, and they come from San Francisco on the weekend. You have Airbnb,” said Jim Wimborough. “Yet you’re not going to make it if you’re not consistent with your locals. They’re the ones who keep you open.”
Experimental dishes are run as specials instead of permanent menu items. Steak, which has largely disappeared from many higher-end Bay Area restaurants, is a necessity.
“I’ve never had a sandwich on my menu before, but I keep one, because it’s what the guys at the bar want,” said Peters. “I’ve found ways that work for me so I’m able to make it interesting and still totally approachable.”
Peters says that running a restaurant in Point Arena has been a challenge, yet his long hours are offset by other benefits. “It’s about the lifestyle — it’s more mellow, nicer,” he said. “When you leave the restaurant it’s incredibly gorgeous. You can walk to the beach, the hills, the river. That makes a big difference.”