The INTERVIEW

There seem to be two kinds of restaurant owners: the Barnum and Bailey variety--the flashy, loud and Look at Me! ones who are front and center of their circuses; or the Fog variety--owners and chefs with presence and power that roll out before and around them... the type who can calmly stand in the corner of their thriving restaurants and people just know, "That's the owner." One type yells and screams and emotes all over the place; the other can cut a glance and maybe motion with a finger, and bring everything exactly to where he wants it.

Garrett Harker is of the latter variety. White hair, tall and slim, Harker floats through his restaurants. He isn't known by many to have ever raised his voice (he leaves that to his extroverted partners.) Unfailingly polite, inscrutable, intense gaze, Harker never wavers on his thoughtfully reached decisions. Around him, a person sees some of the best restaurant talent there is: James Beard award-winning Chef Barbara Lynch of the much-acclaimed No. 9 Park; Cat Silirie, lauded wine director of same, and an assembly of sharp managers, serious chefs and servers. It is to these people that he constantly deflects attention.

Harker came from San Francisco, where he was on the fast track with the Kimpton Group. Family brought him to Boston where for the past six years Harker has worked with Lynch and their team to bring No. 9 to a nationally-acclaimed excellence. In September, they played against people's expectations and opened two small restaurants: B&G Oysters Ltd. and directly next door, The Butcher Shop, a hybrid of boutique butchery and wine bar. Both places are packed every night. "We've been extremely fortunate to have the reception we've been given," Harker says modestly. It's not false humility, either. Despite his level of experience, he is refreshingly surprised at his success.

SLAMMED begged and prodded Harker into talking about himself for a solid hour: "Are we done yet?" he kept asking. "Who am I? I don't know anything." We beg to differ. Students of the industry, pay attention.

SLAMMED: What is your philosophy of hospitality?

GH: In essence, my philosophy of hospitality is based on an intolerance of mediocrity. Everyone from the dishwasher to bartender should be fighting to impact every guest that comes through the door. The artistry of service is how to do that in different contexts. Every guest should get more than they bargained for. I would rather have a guest leave feeling that the experience was definitely not what they were looking for than have them file it under all the vague, soulless service transactions that make up most of our lives.

SLAMMED: When did you first become interested in restaurants?

GH: In school and sports I was always drawn to more group-oriented pursuits. At 15, I went to work at a restaurant in my lower middle-class neighborhood in Baltimore as a dishwasher and salad guy. I was instantly sucked into the team dynamic.

SLAMMED: How did your partnership with Barbara Lynch come about?

GH: Frankly, I was gloomy about leaving San Francisco for Boston. From 3,000 miles away, it looked like there was Todd English, Lydia and way too may Irish bars. But then a friend of a friend asked if I would talk to the Irish girl from Southie who cooked like your Italian grandmother. It was over coffee that Barbara dropped the first bombshell that, yeah, I can do pasta like no one, but my dream is to do world-class French. She would rather go down in flames than play it safe. I was hooked.

SLAMMED: What is the fundamental difference between a corporate restaurant group and a more boutique/chef-centered one?

GH: With corporate groups the message is filtered down and more easily digested.

It has to resonate over a diverse terrain, without a lot of opportunity afterwards to explain any confusion. Like a billboard. A "boutique" group is more interactive and therefore less conducive to slogans. It's about diverse discussions and contradictory points of views. The individual makes more of an investment; it's riskier and more unsettling, deep and long-lasting.  

SLAMMED: Do you have a hiring philosophy?

GH: The more experience I have hiring the more mystified I am by the process. I would say I hire for passion.

SLAMMED: What do you enjoy most about No. 9 Park and B&G and The Butcher Shop?

GH: I love No. 9's self-propelled drive to be the best. Barbara and I talked the other day about how it's out of our hands now. The staff drives us, our regulars' expectations motivate and inspire us, the pride our investors feel drives us to distinguish ourselves. I love The Butcher Shop's fanaticism--the wines are indecipherable, pig and lamb carcasses hang in the meat case, there are no chicken tenders anywhere. There's a certain fearlessness there, both in the staff and the regular clientele. And I love B&G's unselfconscious enthusiasm. Everyday, that little tiny place says, "F' it! We're going to do big numbers and blow people away."

SLAMMED: What are the unique challenges you face in each one of them?

GH: The unique challenge in each of them is also the collective challenge. Having children may be the most invaluable lesson I've had in having multiple concepts. Guide and shape, but believe in your vision and the people you hired to bring it about. The core values are the same, but the expression of them is unique to the place.

SLAMMED: What was your toughest lesson/greatest failure?

GH:   My toughest lesson professionally was in San Francisco, after shooting up the ranks of the Kimpton group and earning the chance to take over a very special restaurant, Scala's Bistro. I failed miserably. I think about it everyday. So much of the success in this business relies on clarity of thought, and in my confusion, I forgot who I was working for: the guest and my employees. I lost sight of the goal. I fought senseless battles and got sidetracked with meaningless victories. But I remain grateful for the emergency transfusion of pure humility the failure gave me. It saved me.

SLAMMED: What is the best thing about working in this industry?

GH: Everyday your weaknesses are exposed. Every night has its flaws; every review, its criticisms; every P&L, missed opportunities. It requires full engagement. I guess that sounds perverse, but I love it.