Larry McGuire wants to create restaurants that feel like they’ve always been there. They haven’t, of course. With the exception of barbecue, Tex-Mex, and the occasional culinary unicorn (e.g., Fonda San Miguel), the Austin dining landscape is relatively nascent. But the city’s boom of the last 15 years has taken the food scene with it, and McGuire and partner Tom Moorman are largely responsible for its now-nationwide prominence. Starting with the opening of Lamberts, a high-end barbecue restaurant, in 2006, McGuire has established himself as the most important tastemaker in the city—and arguably all of Texas.
The McGuire Moorman Hospitality group has opened 12 restaurants in Austin and another in Aspen, Colorado. Known for their exacting attention to detail, McGuire’s restaurants now cover a wide range of cuisines: casual Vietnamese, burger shacks, oyster bars, choose-your-own-adventure-type all-day cafes, and one ultra-posh steakhouse. Whatever his latest gambit, McGuire has a knack for figuring out what Austinites want to eat before they even know they want it.
Maybe it’s because he’s always been here. Born and raised in the Travis Heights neighborhood, McGuire is something of an increasing rarity: an Austin native. He has a unique perspective that lends itself to building restaurants that seem of the city as soon as they debut.
“I never bought into the scrappy taco truck thing,” says McGuire from his sun-dappled office on South Congress, across the street from another one of his success stories, June’s All Day. The headquarters of MMH, just a few blocks from McGuire’s childhood home, is surprisingly minimalist for a restaurant group known for its lavish architecture and design. Communal worktables crowd a room lined with bare white walls, the only splash of color coming from shelves filled with cookbooks and a lone Turkish rug. There’s also McGuire himself, whose rugged good looks seem better suited to The Bachelor. “I’ve always thought of [Austin] as the headquarters of Whole Foods and Dell … Sometimes we get knocked for not being Austin-y, but to me, growing up here, this has always been a very ambitious city.”
For McGuire, his own ambition has meant taking on national brands intent on siphoning off part of Austin’s “entrepreneurial, independent” vision. Over the past several years, preservation has become a priority, with MMH specifically seeking out legacy buildings and brands like Jeffrey’s and Swedish (formerly Sweetish) Hill, which he’s flipped into national media darlings.
These are grown-up restaurants for a city that’s only starting to emerge from an awkward adolescent growth spurt. And though the group has been criticized locally for cultural appropriation, steep price points, and its contribution to Austin’s rampant gentrification problems, the success of its establishments is undeniable. With staying power like no other, all 12 of the local concepts MMH has created remain bustling to this day—no small feat in a city where restaurant closures seemingly outnumber the openings.
Hotel restaurants in New Orleans and Aspen are now in the works, as is an entrée into the world of sushi. Still wringing your hands over the fate of the recently deceased Hut’s Hamburgers? No need to worry, as the restaurateur has quietly taken over that space as well. At just 37, Larry McGuire has already changed the face of Austin’s restaurant scene. But with decades still at his disposal, he might just become the face of Austin dining.
McGuire was only 24 when he began laying the groundwork for his first restaurant. A UT dropout, he was working as a hotel cook in San Antonio when he met chef Tom Moorman, fresh off a stint at acclaimed Montreal restaurant, Toqué. Along with friend Will Bridges, the two hatched a plan to move to Austin and open their own venture—one buttressed by a marquee name: Lou Lambert.
While attending Austin High, a teenaged McGuire had worked for the chef at Liberty Pie, and later, the original Lamberts on South Congress. If they could raise the necessary capital, his old employer said, he’d help them open their dream restaurant.
Nearly a million dollars later, they began a real estate search that ended at the Schneider Brothers Building at Second and Guadalupe Streets. Still smarting from the loss of its iconic next-door neighbor, Liberty Lunch, the building’s owners had acquired historic designation status to protect their own property’s future. That proved to be a prescient move, as the former general store remains the only historic building on the street.
Limited by the restrictions of that designation, McGuire was nonetheless able to transform the two-story space into a modern restaurant with green leather booths, exposed brick, and bistro mirrors towering above the tables. Opened in December 2006, Lamberts Downtown Barbecue became an instant hit with its self-proclaimed “fancy barbecue,” like fennel and coriander–encrusted pork ribs and whiskey bread pudding.
“Looking back on it, it’s so insane that we got that building in the first place, and that anyone gave us money.” McGuire says. “It took us about six months to figure out we didn’t know what we were doing. It took us another 18 months to get it together.”
Working long days without a break for nearly four months, McGuire found the initiative to embark on a second project in the former home of Mars, a fusion-y Middle Eastern restaurant that had broken new ground when it opened on South Congress in 2007. The space was the draw for McGuire—particularly its expansive patio, shaded by a centuries-old live oak. Not quite the touristy stretch that it is today, SoCo was just beginning to hum, with the Hotel San José, run by Lou Lamberts’ sister, Liz, as well as the adjacent Jo’s Coffee. McGuire and his partner saw an opportunity for both a people-watching destination and a see-and-be-seen enclave serving boutique oysters, glasses of bubbles, and the finest fruits de mer from both coasts.
McGuire, whose parents are from Long Island, brought a taste of the Hamptons to South Austin with Perla’s blue-and-white striped awnings, shiplap details, and a giant saltwater aquarium. It wasn’t Montauk, but its sense of escapism proved another notch in the McGuire Moorman belt, with Perla’s appearing on “No Reservations” and Esquire’s Best New Restaurants List in 2009.
But it wasn’t all top 10 lists and Anthony Bourdain–approved eateries. At their new Vietnamese concept in the vacated Bouldin Creek Cafe space on South First Street, the first rumblings of real criticism began. When reviewing Elizabeth Street Cafe on his Fed Man Walking blog in 2013, former Austin American-Statesman critic Mike Sutter wrote: “The group has colonized Vietnamese food at Elizabeth Street, answering the question, ‘What if Tam Deli dressed up and charged twice the price?’”
McGuire ignored the skeptics and forged on, basking in the largely positive press for Elizabeth Street’s elevated bowls of pho. His restaurants were already viewed as must-visit destinations in one of the country’s trendiest cities, investors were calling, and projects were starting to line up under his newly branded company: McGuire Moorman Hospitality.
By 2013, McGuire’s burgeoning empire had grown to six restaurants, he employed more than 400 people, and his company was estimated to be worth $25 million dollars. Part of that continued development included a stature-grabbing foray into fine dining. Opened in 1975, Jeffrey’s was an institution that had long defined its West Austin neighborhood—frequented as it was by the Bush family and other powerful Texans. In an article for Texas Monthly, Tom Moorman said that the Jeffrey’s reboot “had special meaning” because of its prestigious location. “It was Larry’s baby,” his partner was quick to add.
McGuire Moorman Hospitality took over the building in 2012, and set about opening a deluxe steakhouse, complete with tableside-stirred Manhattans, caviar service, and massive dry-aged porterhouses. National magazines like Bon Appétit swooned over the monogrammed cocktail napkins and leather-bound menus, declaring Jeffrey’s the return of post-recession fine dining. Closer to home, the company’s high-end crown jewel led to some critical reflection regarding its place in a city quickly shedding its quirky college-town roots.
“Jeffrey’s may sit at the intersection of West Lynn and West 12th streets,” wrote Statesman critic Matthew Odam, in his 2014 review, “but it really resides at the crossroads of what Austin has long been and what some imagine the city to be going forward.”
MMH’s reputation for obscure playlists and meticulous, Wes Anderson–esque uniforms also inspired a healthy amount of satire. Eater Austin ran a guide to all the “Not Real Restaurants Larry McGuire Is Not Opening According to an Unreliable Anonymous Commenter,” collecting comments left by anonymous wits on news articles pertaining to the group. These included a takeover of Sixth Street burger dive Casino el Camino, rebranded as a “retro-cool 90s Seattle grunge” restaurant with communal tables, and an Italian restaurant where servers wear “hipster-chic Roman gladiator outfits.”
Biting though these parodies were, they held a tinge of truth. McGuire Moorman restaurants had developed a distinct look and vibe furthered by creative director Ryan Smith, who describes the quintessential MMH experience in terms of beats: An exterior moment, like the navy and gold of the Parisian sidewalk cafe outside June’s All Day. An entrance moment, like the grass roof and carved tiki barstools lining Pool Burger’s al fresco space. Small details, like the striped bibs and bow ties the staff wears at Clark’s Oyster Bar. A moment of nostalgia, ergo the color-blocked midcentury diner fantasy of Joann’s, complete with a felt specials board. And a thoughtful endnote, such as the fresh baked chocolate chip cookie that ends brunch at Swedish Hill.
Burgers are another common thread in McGuire’s universe, with the dish leading to a rare misstep among a string of careful, considered successes. In 2015, MMH issued a “Burger Challenge” to drum up business during the slower summer months. The premise was simple: eat a burger at six of their restaurants in a month, get a $50 gift card. A $250 gift card was issued to those who could pull it off in a week. The promotion proved so popular, they were forced to amend the rules after just two weeks for fear of losing any more money.
But that was hardly the company’s most egregious error. After taking over the former Leal’s Tire Shop on East Cesar Chavez in 2019, MMH and Liz Lambert’s Bunkhouse group opened the casual counter-service spot, Lou’s Bodega. Located in a historically Latinx section of East Austin, McGuire and his partners restored Leal’s signature Aztec-inspired murals. They also opted to use the imagery in their branding, a move they later said was intended “to draw awareness to [the murals] and celebrate them.”
On social media, accusations of cultural appropriation were swift. Activist group Defend Our Hoodz took issue with what they called a “gentrified cafe,” and organized a protest that drew dozens of people chanting, “Not a dime, not a cent, for hipsters trying to raise my rent.”
After being vandalized multiple times, MMH released a statement inviting “our East Side neighbors to take an active role in this discussion in a meaningful way. We’re here, and we’re listening.” Defend Our Hoodz, at least, wasn’t interested. “While Lou’s is not a focus of our organizing right now,” says a spokesperson, “they’re still just another exploitative gentrifying business that capitalizes on the displacement of working class people, and in particular Chicano people from the traditional Austin barrio.”
The word “Bodega” has since been dropped from the Lou’s name, the menu has changed, and they’re in the process of adding a playscape to create a more family-friendly atmosphere in what has become a bar-centric neighborhood. “Not to say that I think we were wrong,” McGuire says, “[but] if we’re not opening a concept that is serving the neighborhood, then we failed.”
In many ways, the debut of Neighborhood Sushi will be like coming full circle for Larry McGuire. Opening just two doors down from June’s All Day, his new sushi restaurant will be situated in Lou Lambert’s now-defunct South Congress restaurant, the eponymous spot where McGuire spent so much time working in high school. The ambitious teen who turned to Lambert as a cooking mentor has come a long way—although his fierce determination remains the same.
Not content with his status as Austin restaurant royalty, he’s extended his influence into an ever-evolving array of industries, including the acquisition and management of two ByGeorge fashion boutiques, the design of Deep Eddy Vodka Distillery’s tasting room in Dripping Springs, and the spearheading of the food and beverage operations inside Austin Proper Hotel downtown. Never one to shy away from grandeur, the latter includes two wood-fired restaurants (North African–Mediterranean, Peacock; poolside Mexican, La Piscina), a Middle-Eastern counter-service spot, a bar, and, of course, room service.
There’s one high-profile collaboration with Liz Lambert for another boutique hotel (The Saint Vincent Hotel) in New Orleans, which will house an outpost of Elizabeth Street Cafe and a coastal Italian restaurant focused on Gulf seafood. Two years from now, McGuire will continue his hotelier ways in Aspen with a restaurant serving “Northern Italian Swiss chalet food.”
And then there’s the 80-year-old burger joint, Hut’s. Late next year, McGuire plans to open an Italian red sauce joint inside the space, Sammie’s, named after the restaurant’s first iteration as a burger driver-in owned by Sammy Joseph. Favorite Liquor & Wine next door will also fall under the MMH umbrella, and will be repurposed into a pizzeria called (appropriately enough), Favorite’s Pizza, which will offer takeout, delivery, and by-the-slice options.
“If people don’t snap up these locations and try to do local stuff,” he says, “the landscape is going to be significantly different in 10 years.”
But Austin and McGuire’s hospitality empire have grown in parallel to each other. Looking at the Lou’s debacle and projects in nouveau high-rises like the Austin Proper, it’s undeniable that he’s changed parts of Austin as much as he’s helped preserve others.
There have been growing pains along the way, and criticisms that continue to stick. But with over 700 employees and ventures climbing into the dozens, McGuire’s prowess and influence continues to grow in Austin, and beyond.
Texas Monthly executive editor and restaurant critic, Patricia Sharpe, believes most MMH concepts could today hold their own in larger, more-established markets like Dallas or Houston. “Austin is a big enough city now that things don’t have to be quite so adjusted for a less sophisticated audience. Maybe 15 years ago that would be the case, but not so much now.”
McGuire insists his goal is not to chase James Beard Awards or other accolades. “The restaurants’ highest use is just to be serving people, making people happy,” he says.
And what does the dining public crave in a city changing as rapidly as Austin? Restaurants that feel like they’ve always been there, even when they’re brand new.
"never" - Google News
December 02, 2019 at 12:16AM
https://ift.tt/2qTEzZa
Larry McGuire is Creating an Austin We've Never Seen Before - Austin Monthly
"never" - Google News
https://ift.tt/2pzDYKO
Shoes Man Tutorial
Pos News Update
Meme Update
Korean Entertainment News
Japan News Update
No comments:
Post a Comment