I chose the restaurant, A Rebours, because I wanted to see how it was faring. When this place opened, in 2004, it was named one of the best fine dining restaurants in the Twin Cities by City Pages veteran food critic, Dara Moskowitz. Back then, a kid named Don Saunders was running the kitchen — and despite the fact that he looked about 16, turning out some exquisite food. A Rebours got another boost when Garrison Keillor brought an all-star cast to St. Paul to film A Prairie Home Companion. Suddenly, Meryl Streep and Kevin Kline were taking their lunches at the little bistro on St. Peter Street.
But today, three years later, Saunders is gone [he has his own restaurant now: Fugaise, on East Hennepin] and A Rebours has scaled back.
“When Don left, we stepped back and had a little humility and listened to people about what they wanted,” Doug Anderson, co-owner of A Rebours, tells me. And it shows. Today, A Rebours is more like a real French bistro: noisy, unassuming, and relatively cheap.
I order the omelet of the day, filled with smoky ham, leeks, and creamy Gruyere; it’s slightly undercooked, but tasty and warm and filling. Fhima has the lunch special: roasted turkey with polenta and a spicy cranberry sauce. He orders it, he says, because he loves the bravery of a Thanksgiving meal in summer. “I love it when restaurants break the rules,” he says.
The bill for our meal is just under $28.
Fhima claims he was on the brink of negotiating deals with his vendors and lenders in early 2006. Then the newspapers broke the story about his cash flow problems and suddenly, everyone who’d been willing to give him a break was banging down his door. It was widely thought that he’d disappear — back to Paris or Morocco, perhaps — or at least declare bankruptcy. But Fhima is firm on this point.
“There is no bankruptcy,” he says, staring me down. “That’s not going to happen. I’m going to work my ass off and pay my debts, every single one. Am I paying them on time? Of course not; it’s too much debt. Am I doing it smoothly? No, there are bumps in this road. But I’m traveling, and my head is high: paying every single week, every month, every lawsuit.”
He’s mortgaged his home on Lake of the Isles and taken his children (ages 16, 13, 8, and 5) out of private school, enrolling them in the Hopkins district, where he claims they are much happier. That’s just one of the many reasons for this past year’s events, he says.
Then he recounts the old Jewish tale about a man who’s walking down the street when it begins to pour — rain so heavy that he is forced to take shelter behind a building. After the storm, soaked and shivering, the man emerges and shakes his hand at God saying, ‘I’m only two blocks from home!’ But when he walks on and turns the corner of his block, he sees that his house was struck by lightning and has crumbled to the ground.
“I feel like that man,” Fhima says, finishing his turkey and pushing his plate away. “I don’t know how many lightnings were waiting out there for me. But I’m so excited that this happened to me at a time in my life when I have another 46 years to go.”
We share a pot of coffee before leaving. By 2 p.m., we are the only customers left. Anderson sits down with us, and the two men talk about the ups and downs of the restaurant business while I listen.
“I won’t make the same mistakes again,” Fhima tells us both. “I think now I know when to quit. OK, maybe I’m not as good at it as other people. So what do I do? I surround myself with people who will say, ‘David, stop now.’”
A week after our lunch, news breaks that Fhima has been hit with a $350,000 judgment for a 13-year-old wrongful termination lawsuit waged against him in Los Angeles.
Two weeks after this, he calls to tell me that he is closing Fhima’s. I tell him I am sorry and ask him how he feels about this.
“Well, sweetheart,” he says, then pauses. “It’s been a great five-year run. And this was a business decision, for sure. Not an emotional one. But I’m not grieving at all. Really, I’m excited about all the time this frees up for everything else I want to do.”
We hang up a few moments later. And upon reflection, all evidence to the contrary, I believe him.