Unrated during the pandemic
Meghan Lee, the owner of Heirloom in Lewes, Del., did something shocking when she and her head chef, Matthew Kearn, parted ways in early July. Instead of launching an outside search for his replacement, or promoting someone from within her farm-to-table dining destination, she looked at her team of seven cooks and decided the group of them could write the restaurant’s next chapter.
“The industry is shifting,” says Lee, who opened Heirloom in 2015 and wants to conduct business in a new way. “We are a unit, a team.” She sees her role as guide and cheerleader, giving her kitchen staff, who range in age from 22 to 28, “the tools for success and an opportunity to be creative.”
The stakes are considerable. The majority of her customers are discerning diners from Washington, Philadelphia and New York, some of whom have second homes in the quaint beach community about 2 1/2 hours from the District.
I walked into Heirloom last month unaware of its significant switch. I left, several courses later, eager to spread the news that Rachel Diener, Beau Fazio, Tommy Heffernan, Ben Soyka, Frank Bruffey, Maira Young and Asher Truitt are, collectively, delicious reason to snare a reservation. Right off the bat, house-baked sourdough bread with not-too-sweet blueberry butter makes a good first impression. In my case, Lee herself set the tone for dinner when she welcomed my party with four glasses of bubbly. She had no idea a critic was at the table, only that she had asked some strangers to move their original Sunday night booking to Friday evening in order for her staff to get a well-deserved night off. We simply obliged and she generously thanked us. Everybody won.
Lee, a native of Chester County, Pa., who has been working in restaurants since she was 15, has done a lovely job of turning an 1899 home into a restaurant whose many fine points speak to its name. The food is served on vintage china, the tables use reclaimed pine, and Lee’s grandmother’s desk enjoys a new life as a host stand. The owner says the restaurant’s name was inspired by a sign she encountered outside a sandwich shop along Route 1. Its logo featured a tomato. “Heirloom” — the first word to pop into her head — was just the sentiment she hoped to convey. “It’s a strong word that represents a lot,” says Lee.
Menu descriptions run a little longer at Heirloom than at other restaurants. Just as Lee wants to spread the love around in the kitchen, she wants to remind diners how much she relies on the people who grow, raise or catch her food. Consider Heirloom’s delightful gazpacho, showcasing juicy peaches from Bennett Orchard, pickled cucamelons from Baywater and a slinky island of custard, sweet with corn courtesy of Fifer Orchards. Summer in every sip. The cooks take time to make their own burrata every day, a process that starts by introducing ricotta to lemon juice, then piping the cheese into a ball of mozzarella curds and sealing it. The luscious result is outfitted with fried pecans, serrano chile, lemon cucumbers (thanks to Dittmar Farms) and a dressing made with blackberries, red wine and balsamic vinegar. It sounds like a lot, but each accessory contributes to the creamy, crisp, spicy and fruity deliciousness that passes your lips.
Too many cooks in the kitchen? Diener, 24, who started at Heirloom the same week as Kearn almost five years ago, explains that she and her colleagues first meet to see what they have to work with. The next time they gather, each cook is expected to come up with a few ideas, which are then refined by the group and eventually tested and tweaked. An abundance of mushrooms, banana peppers and Swiss chard recently led to a roesti of shredded king trumpets, staged with banana pepper sauce and sauteed Swiss chard, a market-fresh accompaniment to a steak entree. Lee compares the drill — what to do with what’s on hand — to competitive cooking shows on TV. At the same time, says Diener, “we are all equals, even when he was there,” a reference to the recently departed head chef. The reality that “all our palates are a little different” — some cooks prefer more acidity, others more heat — results in what Diener thinks is “a well-rounded spectrum of flavors.”
The menu changes, like updates from the CDC. You might encounter different arrangements than I did in mid-July; the butter with the bread is now peach ignited with black pepper. Let me tease you, then, with possibilities that might include crisped Ocean City scallops lapped with cauliflower cream and blackberry gastrique, and a juicy, double-cut pork chop whose companions include farro and baby carrots massaged with dried spices and vinegar powder, tossed with olive oil and flavored further in a smoker. (“Barbecue” isn’t just for meat.) Criticism revolves around educated opinion. My sense is that the restaurant that served me a silken dark chocolate budino with salted butterscotch mousse and smoked peanut brittle will impress current diners with sweet corn pots de crème offered with lavender polenta cookies and burnt honey.
The decor — some botanical prints on the wall, plants on a mantel — is minimalist by design. “I want to showcase the tables and what goes on them,” says Lee, whose 70 or so inside seats include a table for 12 in what’s known as the Robinson Room, after the dentist who lived in the long-ago residence. The rear space has an open window into the kitchen, framing the talent. An additional 30-plus seats dress a patio. Servers are asked not to wear black. Their boss encourages “cheery” attire. The look turns out to match the attitude here.
A team approach to cooking isn’t the owner’s sole unusual strategy. Lee also makes sure her entire staff is cross-trained, so that people who work in the front of the house — bussers, hosts, servers — know what goes on in BOH, or back of the house, and vice versa. Cooks might be asked to clear tables, polish stemware or drop off dishes in the dining room. Servers are known to garnish plates, assemble a cheese board or finish desserts. The easy vibe in the dining room fuses a beach mentality with the kind of polish that comes from throwing oneself into hospitality.
Diners aren’t charged a service fee here — the new normal at a lot of restaurants. They can tip like it’s 2019 if they wish. While the money stays with the crew in the dining room, Lee says she rewards kitchen staff with morale boosters, including cookbooks, staff meals of pizza or tacos she procures from outside and the occasional trip. Recently, she made plans to fly eight employees to Charleston, S.C., in October, where they will eat around town for two and a half days.
Advertisement
The front of the antique host stand features a chalkboard that spells out the restaurant’s philosophy: “Buy it with thought/ Cook it with care/ Buy local foods/ Serve just enough/ Use what is left.” The words are borrowed from the U.S. Food Administration, circa 1917 — long-ago wisdom that’s just as apt now as then. Heirloom indeed.
More in Food:
The food critic gets critiqued: What Tom Sietsema learned in a year of pandemic home cooking
Danny Meyer restaurants will require vaccine proof for diners and employees
The new Popeyes chicken nuggets capture the look, but none of the flavor, of the Sandwich
Heirloom212 Savannah Rd., Lewes, Del. 302-313-4065.heirloomdelaware.com. Open for inside and outside dining 5 to 9 p.m. Tuesday through Thursday and 5 to 10 p.m. Friday and Saturday. Prices: Appetizers $12 to $19, main courses $29 to $36. Accessibility: A lift on the side of the building, on Third Street, allows wheelchair users to enter the dining room. Restrooms are ADA-compliant.
ncG1vNJzZmivp6x7uK3SoaCnn6Sku7G70q1lnKedZLmqssSsq7KklWSzsLvDaJ%2BeoaKhvLC5jKaYq6qZmsBuuc6dnKumXam1qrrKoqWgZZGjsW67y51kraGdmnq3tdGtrJ6rXZfGbsDHnmSbnZGYtXB%2Bj2toaGhoZH12e5dunWyeY2x%2FbrHEn2pmaWGar26uxXFnZp1jbYR4sJicbJ9oZpTAtbvRsmWhrJ2h