I spent most of my young life trying to get out of the South because of the conservative culture. My grandparents had a house on a lake in Upstate New York, so we’d go every summer. My friends there were from New York City, Cleveland, Pittsburgh...so I had exposure to Big City culture, and I loved it. 

But the South is beautiful, and Southern Hospitality is genuine. The guest is always the most important person—promptly offered a drink upon arrival, served the biggest slice of cake, seated in the most comfortable chair, allowed to talk the most. The guest gets all of the attention from start to finish. That absolutely informed my approach to service.

Not having many, if any, great restaurants in my hometown made me appreciate a fantastic dining experience. My great aunt and uncle owned a restaurant in Morgantown, West Virginia called This Ole Farm, and I loved going there as a kid, sitting at the bar drinking Shirley Temples and watching the staff prep for evening service.

In our restaurants, we focus on the totality of the dining experience, not just the food. The feel of the space—the decor, the music (and the volume), the light, the service, the temperature, the timing, the cocktails, and the food—when it’s right, it what makes a meal special. You enjoy the folks sitting at your table all the more. We create the kinds of spaces that we want to frequent.

And although I don’t eat it a lot, I do love Southern cooking—chicken fried steak, fried okra, sausage biscuits and gravy. Neal occasionally makes nods to my affinity in his dishes like the Rabbit Sausage Gravy and Biscuits on the Redbird brunch menu.

Yes, I always wanted to be an artist, although I don’t get to draw and paint as much as I’d like these days. My parents kept me in the South as long as they could, but the second I graduated from college, I moved to San Francisco, knowing no one, with just a suitcase full of clothes. Of course, there weren’t many jobs for painters available, so I got a job in a restaurant.

I am fortunate that my career is a creative one, especially as an independent owner. In our profession, creativity is key—and not just in the visual or culinary sense. To survive as an independent restaurateur, being creative with the business itself is crucial.

Also, designing our spaces has been great fun for me. I’m fortunate that [our] designer Robert Weimer is truly collaborative. He’s a fantastic listener, and we work well together. Function is as important as form to me because proper function saves money operationally.

I think there is so much to learn just by paying close attention—including what not to do. I like to watch first to figure out how things work, then give it a try knowing it might take a few times but eventually I will get it. My parents were very creative and entrepreneurial—they owned their own businesses. I learned a lot from them about risk aversion, hard, hard work, survival, and humility. My sister and brother (attorney and contractor, respectively) own and operate their own businesses as well.

We fell in love and loved working together, so starting our own restaurant seemed a natural progression. We began raising money for Grace right as 9/11 happened, and it ultimately took us three years [to reach our target]. We catered in the meantime. Three years meant we had a lot of time to think. I did a lot of research, took a class at UCLA on how to open a restaurant that featured local, successful restaurateurs—we did as much development as we could afford.

Neal and I were never breakfast people—probably something to do with working so late into the night. But when I became pregnant about a year after we opened Grace, breakfast became sacred. I needed it. So Neal would make breakfast for me—ricotta blueberry pancakes and the Spanish scramble (that are on the BLD menu to this day) and other things out of whatever he found in the fridge. When he didn’t feel like cooking, we would venture out into our neighborhood to eat. We never found what we were looking for in a restaurant—well-executed, quality food, good service, and solid design. So we set out to make our own. BLD is the kind of everyday food a chef cooks at home. We wanted it to be casual enough that you could just roll out of bed and come in for brunch.

We catered an event at Vibiana [formerly the Cathedral of Saint Vibiana] in June of 2008. I was floored the first time I walked into the cathedral—it was 132 years old at the time and one of the city’s first architectural pieces. I took a tour of the entire property. While in the Rectory building, where Redbird now resides, my guide mentioned that the owners were looking for a restaurant to go in. I froze. I thought, “We have to do this. Neal has to see this.” He did and fell in love with it, too. 

We began talking to the owners, Tom Gilmore and his partners. Interestingly, they had sent us a Request for Proposal to us, but I’d ignored it because we were overwhelmed at the time with two restaurants, catering, and a toddler. But we had always wanted to be in downtown LA. We’ve always loved it. We actually made a pact when we were first together—18 years ago—that we would live Downtown at some point. That hasn’t happened yet, but there is still time.

My favorite part is when service sings. When everything comes together to make for a beautiful evening for everyone in the restaurant including the staff. So much goes into making that possible. It’s really magical. The same goes for events at Vibiana.

I love working with the people who work with us. I am so grateful for the effort and passion they put forth. Restaurant jobs are no walk in the park. They are physically exhausting and emotionally draining. It takes a lot to be successful in a role on a daily basis.

Morning: Wake up, review sales reports and service notes for all concepts, answer any emails I can knock out right then so that I’m ahead when I get to my desk at work, feed and walk dogs (or convince Neal to do it), get Roan (our daughter) up, dressed, packed up. Neal cooks breakfast, packs lunch, drives Roan to school or camp.

Mid-morning: Get to my office at Redbird as soon as I can, inspect facility, check in with Redbird managers and address issues/reservations, etc. for the day, check on any current construction or projects, answer more emails, compile daily list, post to social, have various meetings—with PR & Marketing, the management staff for any of the four concepts I oversee depending on the day, our accountant, attorney, designer, facilities manager, partners, sales directors, event managers… 

Afternoon: Eat lunch at my desk, check in on BLD/icdc, answer more emails, more meetings, try to jump into Redbird Pre-Service Meeting (don’t always make it), try to jump into Vibiana Event Pre-Service Meeting (don’t always make it). 

Evening: Dinner at desk, finish up any outstanding projects for the day, jump on Redbird floor for a bit to check on service, say hello to any guests I know, check in on event at Vibiana, check on Redbird.

Night: Try to make it home by 9:00 to tuck Roan in. On days I don’t stay late, I’ll pick up Roan from school/camp, cook dinner, help with homework, force a bath, trumpet practice, reading, bedtime, catch up on the news (I’m a complete junkie during election years). Bed by 11:00 latest, but I’m probably awake from 3:00 to 5:00AM remembering emails I forgot to answer, thinking of ways to improve service, worrying over work or family things, reading emails/news. Back to sleep by 5:00ish.

This is a tough one. Restaurants have so much exposure for criticism— more so than almost any other profession. Constant, unqualified criticism is tough to swallow. If everyone had an idea of how difficult it is to open, operate, and sustain an independent restaurant I think the judgment would be much less self-righteous and insensitive. We work so hard to create something special for those who visit us. To imply that we are purposely attempting to do the opposite is simply absurd.

That being said, we certainly aren’t perfect. So many variables are at play through any given service and attempting to control them all is a tricky business. Our philosophy is that you can never be overly prepared. Being prepared gives you time to deal with the things you can never be prepared for, if that makes sense. That’s why so much work goes into the front end of dinner service or one of our events. 90% of the work happens before service or an event begins—90% of the stress happens during service or an event.

I do read all of the reviews. I look for anything that rings true so we can learn from it whether it’s something that needs to be addressed with a guest, with the staff, or a particular dish. Any good feedback we share with the staff and thank them for their work. All the rest I try to forget. Not always easy. Especially at 3:00AM.

My strategy is to pay very close attention to my daughter and my relationship with Neal. I am a workaholic and would work constantly if I were not a mother. There is just always so much that can be done. So I push things as far as I can until I sense we’re approaching an adverse effect. Then I pull back and do what’s needed, whether that’s spending more time with, planning a date night with Neal, or taking a vacation. I’m the type of person who needs to hole up to rejuvenate. I tend to do that at my house on Sundays whenever I can. A successful Sunday means I’m in my pajamas all day.

Lead by example. Maintain high standards and demonstrate how to reach them. Always respect people even if they don’t respect you right away. Sympathize and empathize without personalizing. Listen. Hire people that are smart and kind above all else. Maintain a sense of humor. Be fair. Be supportive. Be patient and flexible and humble.

I’m loving developing this amazing property—Vibiana—that we are so fortunate to have as our own for now. It’s satisfying on so many levels. The potential to be such a community space is super cool. As for what’s next, there are some other projects on the horizon and others on the back burner. We will just have to see where they fall.