Tag: lenny russo

  • Lenny Russo on Why the Farm Bill Is All F*cked Up

    In an article about Charles Billington, a University of Minnesota endocrinologist who also happens to be one of the nation’s leading obesity researchers, I mention that when Billington himself dines out, he goes mostly to Heartland, the little storefront bistro on St. Clair Avenue in St. Paul.

    Why? Because Heartland’s gourmet Midwestern fare embodies just about every healthful practice he can name: the portions are appropriate; the food is wholesome, minimally processed, and varied; the slow-cooking methods tend to seal in nutrients (or leave them alone); and low-density foods such as vegetables often are the "star" of the meal.

    After talking to the doctor, I went to visit Lenny Russo, owner and head chef at Heartland, to tell him what Billington had told me. There was a pause. Then an evil grin.

    "Well, no shit," Russo says.

    For five years, including an 11-month stint at Cue, Russo’s been beating the drum for locally raised and grown food, refusing to serve anything (with the exceptions of coffee, chocolate, and some spices) from outside a 250-mile radius of the Twin Cities. You’ll get elk, rabbit, bullfrog legs, root vegetables, trout, berries, mushrooms, and wild rice at Heartland. You will never eat salmon, lobster, pineapple, or macadamia nuts there. This way, Russo provides patrons with food that’s fresher and closer to the source while supporting the region’s growers and small family farms.

    What’s more, everything he uses is produced according to organic or equivalent standards. In other words, Russo’s not so concerned about state certification; but he does care how the farmers treat their food. For instance, he won’t buy barn-fed beef.

    "They take a cow and pull it out of the pasture where it’s been grazing on grass so its flesh has a perfect balance of omega-3 and omega-6 fatty acids," Russo explains. "Then they put it into a barn and feed it nothing but #2 corn and all the omega-3’s go away and what’s left is just a shitload of omega-6. Eating that kind of crap is what makes people unhealthy and fat."

    Russo admits, however, that only a small segment of the population can afford to eat at his restaurant, where dinner tabs run about $60 per. That’s why he’s involved in several initiatives devoted to making the food supply better, purer, and healthier for everyone.

    For the past year, Russo has been trying to establish a local food clearinghouse, where producers could bring their wares for sale to restaurants, grocery stores, and even private citizens. He supports family farmers and speaks and writes on the topic, preaching to people about the necessity of crop rotation and food-based growing. He was a vocal opponent of ethanol and commodity crops (particularly corn) long before the position was in vogue. And Russo is especially outspoken when it comes to policies that promote packaged, preservative-laden junk over whole foods.

    "People on the lower end of the economic ladder who don’t have transportation have certain limitations as to what they can buy," he says. "They’re going to the convenience store on the corner and filling up their shopping carts with piles of cheap calories produced with high-fructose corn syrup and a bunch of ingredients you’d have to be a food chemist to understand."

    It is, Russo believes, the fault of the government, and the Farm Bill in particular, that the economics of food has become so twisted and people are starving for nourishment inside bodies bloated with Twinkies, Doritos, and Coke.

    "If the federal government cared about people or the land, they wouldn’t force us into all this commercialized agriculture so our food gets all fucked up." Russo — the grandson of a New Jersey boxer who speaks like Winston Churchill with a little Chris Rock thrown in — leans his beefy forearms on the table and glares.

    "The farm bill is about who’s going to get a hand-out and that’s wrong. Supply side economics should not be about giving more money to the rich motherfuckers who already have enough. It should be about giving money to people on the lower end of the economic sector because they’re not going to invest it overseas, they’re going to spend it on clothes and food and pump it right back into the economy where it belongs."

     

  • Cue's Second Act

    Remember Cue at the Guthrie?

    The press release from the Guthrie Theater touting a January
    three-course prix fixe menu for $29.95 took me by surprise. This isn’t just a
    prix-theater early bird special – it’s available any time, and includes a free
    self-guided iPod tour of the theater and complimentary glass of wine or cup of coffee after dinner.

    Back when Cue opened in the summer of 2006, a table at the
    new Guthrie Theater’s sleek dining room was the hottest ticket in town. Cue had
    snagged a local celebrity chef, Lenny Russo, and all the buzz that came with
    the opening of a major new landmark, designed by superstar architect Jean
    Nouvel.

    Russo’s opening menu, assembled with the help of a network
    of Midwestern producers made the concept of Midwestern haute cuisine seem like
    more than an oxymoron: Rick Nelson’s review in the Star Tribune praised the
    wild boar pate with pickled vegetables; sliced elk with wild rice and
    blueberries; and a salad of grilled quail with summer squash and poached
    tomatoes, among other dishes.

    Russo left about a year ago, to return to his own Midwestern
    haute cuisine restaurant, Heartland, and I hadn’t been back since. The buzz and the crowds
    have evidently died down – when we visited at 8:30 on a Saturday night, the
    dining room was about three-quarters empty. The theaters were empty last night,
    which may explain the sparse crowd, but Cue had ambitions to be a top
    destination restaurant.

    The new Cue menu is still very stylish, but not nearly as
    inventive or adventurous as it was in Russo’s day. The elk, quail and wild boar
    are gone, though the menu does offer a cassoulet made with pheasant confit. (I
    was puzzled enough by this description to ask the chef: duck confit is duck
    cooked in its own abundant fat. How do you confit a bird as lean as pheasant?
    Turns out, you cook the pheasant in duck fat. Which makes sense, but must make
    the pheasant taste like duck.) A lot of the usual suspects show up, including
    artic char, ahi tuna, mussels, filet of beef with wild mushroom sauce;
    free-range chicken breast with whipped potatoes.

    The prix fixe menu varies a bit from day to day, but the
    basic format seems to include a choice of soup or salad; a choice of fish,
    chicken or pork chop, and a choice of desserts from a list. In strictly
    economic terms, the $29.95 special is a good deal: the pork chop costs $29.00 a
    la carte, and if you add the cost of soup or salad (8-$9) and dessert ($8),
    plus the price of the audio tour (5), and the complimentary glass of Pinot Noir
    or Chardonnay (or coffee) that accompanies the audio tour, the savings are
    substantial. But this still isn’t bargain dining: with tax, tip, and
    three glasses of wine between the two of us, our tab still came to $115.

    We had a pleasant dining experience in striking
    surroundings, with friendly and attentive service and food that was
    well-prepared but not exactly exciting. My winter squash soup was a low-calorie
    puree with diced cubes of roasted potato and just a hint of sweetness (pear, as
    I recall), and my grilled pork chop was thick and juicy, nicely complemented by
    whipped sweet potatoes, roasted golden beets and a chutney of walnuts and
    raisins. Carol’s menu started with a rather bland fennel salad, followed by
    grilled coho salmon served over Israeli couscous and baby zucchini with a hint
    of a citrus sauce. I thought the salmon was a bit dry; Carol didn’t. Neither of
    us was very impressed by our desserts – a cranberry upside down cake with a
    citrus sorbet, and an almond, apple, and crystallized ginger cake with almond cream and cream cheese ice cream.

    Bottom line: an enjoyable evening, and the self-guided iPod audio tour, narrated by director Joe
    Dowling and several Guthrie actors, was a fun little bonus at the end. But I am
    glad I didn’t pay full a la carte prices. When it opened, Cue was vying for a spot on the short list of top
    Twin Cities destination restaurants. Now it seems more like a convenient but
    pricy place to dine before the show.