Good Real Food

The Twin Cities have recently been through a golden Age of fine dining, but times are tough. From Heartland to Pickled Parrot, Minnesota struggles with its identity by way of its appetite.

AS chef de cuisine and proprietor of Heartland, Lenny Russo has say over every ingredient, every wine selection, and every hire, but what he can’t seem to control is his disbelief. “Last night a four-top came in, sat down, looked at the menu, got up and left,” he says. “‘Too weird,’ they said, even though every ingredient on the menu comes from within a two-hundred-mile radius of the restaurant.” Russo and I are standing at the service counter; the restaurant opens for dinner in one hour. Grabbing last night’s menu, Russo points to the “pan-seared squab breast with roasted golden chanterelle mushrooms, toasted black walnuts, and heirloom tomato catsup” and takes it one step at a time. His voice is calm and persuasive, and he sounds as if he were defending the dish in a court of law.

“There’s a chance someone at the table is a hunter, and has hunted for squab, so they know what that is,” he says. “People have black walnut trees in their backyards, and everyone knows someone who has foraged for wild mushrooms, right? But you put it all on the plate together and somehow it’s ‘weird.’” He lays down the menu and shrugs. I, for one, am convinced. When you put it this way, a pan-seared squab breast with roasted and so forth is perfectly logical. Somehow Russo has taken an example of Midwestern haute cuisine and made it seem as grounded in everyday life as a hamburger.

“This food speaks to people’s roots,” he says, referring to Heartland’s fierce, almost evangelical commitment to indigenous and locally cultivated ingredients and organic, sustainable agriculture. In theory, he’s right, and if people were as serious about maintaining good health, appreciating their heritage, supporting American farmers, and eating delicious things as they say they are, then Heartland should be a roaring success. Yet the restaurant is struggling. Heartland opened in October 2002 to critical acclaim, grateful neighbors, and a small, but growing clientele of regulars, but one year later Russo is having a hard time bringing in enough people to make his restaurant viable. “We know we’re doing a great job,” he says. “But we’re barely keeping our heads above water.”

It’s not because of a lack of ability or knowledge. Russo, who hails originally from Hoboken, New Jersey, has over twenty years of kitchen experience, including stints at Faegre’s, the Loring Café, and W.A. Frost. When I went to Heartland on an undercover mission to sample the experience, I found the food artful without being overly fussy, with rich, complex flavors and in portions that satisfied but didn’t make me feel like I’d entered an eating contest. The service was prompt and unobtrusive; the wine was excellent and very reasonably priced; and everyone was enjoying themselves. So why wasn’t Heartland full?

Part of the problem could stem from the general business climate for restaurants in the Twin Cities. Talk to restaurateurs and you’ll hear conflicting stories of opportunity and doom. According to the National Restaurant Association, we rank fourth in terms of per capita dining, and in recent years have been as high as number three. Even after the Internet bubble and September 11th, the Twin Cities market is a hopeful place to open a restaurant. JP American Bistro, Mojito, Solera, and Heartland all took the gamble despite a soft economy and a flattening of business travel and convention activity, while the suburbs are practically exploding with mid-level casual chain restaurants such as P.F. Chang’s, Maggiano’s and Big Bowl.