Agg - I Hear Shes a Real Bitch

HANDS, PLEASE.

Three beats.

HANDS, PLEASE.

Servers quickly snap to and move toward the pass in that way thats almost running but looks very relaxedlike a swan elegantly floating through the room, all quick legs and small steps from the waist down and an incredibly calm upper body, as though you are walking at a normal pace. Its learned. The Black Hoof servers know how to extricate themselves graciously from whatever they are doing, be it greeting people, talking to tables, or stirring cocktails while taking orders from the bar. The passwhere the chef puts up the plated food for servers to pick up and deliver to tablesis always a priority, and the servers are so seasoned they can all calculate, at hyper-speed and with darting eye contact, whos doing the least pressing thing. Whoever it is quickly untangles themselves from their task so they can get to the pass and run the food before hands is called a third time.

Can you go for hands, please? sounds so strange, but if Im working the floor and unable to get to the pass myself, Ill say it to the nearest server in a low but unmistakably demanding voice. Theres a certain pitch you can land on, a lower register, that feels designed for giving orders to staff in a loud restaurant. For me, its much lower than my normal speaking voice, and whatever pointed words Im saying get wrapped up in the bass notes of a Cure song, so only the server can hear them. And if I can somehow keep my face looking its most pleasant (a Herculean task, believe me), then Ive achieved management nirvana: gotten my point across quickly and clearly while leaving the customer completely oblivious to whats going on.

For some context, the pass, in our case, is a worn-down piece of two-by-six. I, years prior, installed that piece of wood myself and rubbed it down with dark stain. It now shines with the patina of a thousand plates crossing over from the kitchen to tables of hungry diners.

Drinks are made first, and if the entire room is seated all at once (very likely on Friday and Saturday nights) the bartender gets hit hard first. The servers will deal with wine and beer orders themselves, but since we are well known for our cocktails, for the bartender a frenzy of stirring and shaking ensues. Our best dishwashers will assist by reading the bar chits and setting up and chilling glassware in the order the drinks are being made, sometimes even prepping garnishes. When dishwashers are at that level, they never stay in the pit too long.

Almost every table orders charcuterie: it is the food upon which weve built our reputation (and its what we have stamped on our awning). But, aside from being our signature item, it also happens to be a perfect starting point for an unapologetically meaty meal.

The eight or ten items on offer on the charcuterie board are constantly rotatingold salamis get sliced down to the nub and new ones cure and become ready to be plucked from our secret curing room. This is a small walk-in fridge in the very dark recesses of the farthest corner of the basement, kept at just the right temperature and humidity to slowly turn raw, ground meat into perfect, salty tubes.

The concept at the Black Hoof is simplewe offer great everything, including service and atmospherebut our reputation rests, fundamentally, on the quality of this board. And the quality has never wavered, though each new chef brings their own personality to it. Some are more traditional, sticking to the drier saucissons secs of France, the somehow creamy and crumbly chorizos of Spain, and the long-cured kings of charcuterie, the famous whole-muscle prosciuttos of Italy. Some are more wild, focusing on infusing old traditions with new flavourslike spicy horse, whose perfect marriage of sweet horse meat and fiery chili flakes might even make timid eaters forget what theyre eating; or curried goat, a match as obvious as it is delicious; or blueberry bisontart, dried blueberries the perfect foil to the gamy meat. The fundamental reliability and consistently great sameness of the board has kept the menu anchored for almost ten years. And we always serve it with the explanation that the charcuterie is precisely laid outeach slice cut specifically to best highlight whatever style salumi it isranging from least to most intense flavour: We recommend you start herepoints at bottomand work your way toward the handle. Never Chef recommendsUGHHH to Chef recommends! Nothing gets my hackles up quite like servers (in other restaurants, obviously) referring to the chef as Chef. Its come to indicate an old-guard mentality that is mostly unchecked reverence for someone who is good at cooking food. Plus, its hyper-cheesy. Doctor recommends you take your pill every day; Judge recommends you go directly to jaildo not pass Go, etc., etc. I call my doctor by his first name, and Id be tempted to call a judge Peter instead of Your Honour, so, in general, Im not really into honorifics.

Its not a hard and fast rule, but youll find the flavours get a little more intense as you go along. This explanation takes only five seconds, and I must have said it a thousand times, but Im always conscious to keep it sounding fresh, as though each utterance is somehow the first time those words have tumbled from my lips in that particular order. On the cornergestures to itcountry terrine wrapped in bacon, whipped schmaltzgesture follows items, never coming too close, but close enough that the diner can see what youre pointing atcapicollo from the shoulder, across here, sopressata, beef heart and dill, red wine and clove, pistachio-studded mortadellastill with the pointing (always say pistachio in case theyve neglected to mention their severe nut allergy, which happens more than it ought to)then this is one of my favourites, smoked summer sausage, and across the top spicy horse, and finally some chorizo. And, of course, our house grainy mustard (because youd be shocked how many people ask what that one is while plopping their finger in its thousands of tiny, sticky orbs).