Firing on all Burners
DONNA'S has made the transition from snack bar to restaurant.
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Now that chef Charlie Sims has retired from his day job, he's throwing all
his energies into the kitchen at DONNA'S BAR & GRILL
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WHAT: Donna's Bar & Grill
CUISNE: 'Homestyle American cooking'
WHEN: Dinner Thursday through Monday
WHERE: 800 N. Rampart St., 596-6914
CARDS: Major
Is the kitchen open?" a customer asks Charlie Sims, the tall guy in the cook's
apron and beret. "Sure -- it's open," answers Sims. "Anytime you see me, it's
open." It's a slow, rainy Sunday night and he's been sitting on a barstool
jawing with one of his customers. Now, he stands up to his full height and
rambles back to the kitchen.
This kitchen is where Charlie Sims plans to spend his
retirement.
The setup has been seven years in the making. In October 1993, Sims
and his then-soon-to-be wife, Donna Poniatowski, opened up Donna's Bar &
Grill. It was, originally, a restaurant. Today, the club is best known for its
brass-band music, but live music didn't start there until 1994, a year after
Donna's opened its doors.
From day one, Sims set up the kitchen and taught the cooks. But he
couldn't always be around because he'd kept his job as a chef for Amtrak. And
so he'd head out of town three days a week to work "on the road," as they say
in the railroad business; Donna stayed back in New Orleans and kept the place
going.
Today, the roles are reversed. After Charlie's retirement this
summer, Donna returned to her profession -- teaching. She has a master's degree
in biology and is working toward a doctorate in administration while she
teaches in Florida at two different places: Seminole High School and the
University of Central Florida. Donna plans to fly into town every month but, in
between visits, Charlie runs the show.
He already has put his stamp on the place: "We [now] open at 5 p.m.
instead of 8:30; I put out tables and chairs. And the tables have tablecloths.
So we're not a snack bar; we're a restaurant." Each night, until the music and
dancing begin, the newly added tables and chairs cover a big chunk of the dance
floor at Donna's.
Behind the scenes, things have changed, too. The kitchen has a new,
bright white paint job and Sims has reorganized it to his liking. A chef's
jacket hangs on the wall -- "I wear that now and then, when I want to impress
people," he muses -- but tonight he's in jeans and a black Donna's T-shirt.
He works his way around the kitchen in his easy way, doling out
periodic commentary while steadily going about his work. "The kitchen is no
place to be impatient," he says, shaking spices on a mound of hamburger meat
and shaping the meat into an enormous burger. He places the burger on the
grill, inserts two buns in the oven to toast and then moves leisurely to the
cold counter to chop up lettuce and tomato. "My seasoned burger," he comments,
nodding toward the grill as he chops.
The best thing he makes? No question: it's barbecued ribs and rib
tips. "Ribs are No. 1 with Charlie," he says, referring to himself in the third
person. "They're my specialty." He puts down the cleaver for a second and hands
over a wing. "Try this. It's chicken I just baked. Greek style: lemon, garlic,
oregano, olive oil."
Those ingredients are all that Sims will reveal. Ask about how he
makes that cornbread and he'll wag his index finger and warn, "Now, don't make
me start lying to you." His recipes are definitely a secret. Especially his
patented barbecue sauce, which he says has a tried-and-true "balance of sweet
and sour."
Sims learned how to cook on the south side of Chicago, where he
lived for 58 years before moving to New Orleans in 1993. Being a chef was in
his blood; his mother cooked for local Catholic schools; his Southern-based
uncles and grandfathers, like Sims, cooked for the railroad. Sims describes his
own work as "homestyle American cooking." Not necessarily soul food, he
emphasizes, because "that's just the certain foods you're used to eating at
home -- the Polish have it, Italians, Greeks, blacks, they all have it. People
can call this soul food, but I call it plain ol' homestyle American
cooking."
Sims regularly cooks up gumbo, jambalaya, crawfish or shrimp
etouffee, red beans and rice, barbecued chicken, ribs, rib tips, pork
sandwiches, hamburgers, fries, coleslaw and potato salad. Daily specials are,
he explains, "spur of the moment -- whatever I've got plenty of and whatever I
feel like making." In the past week, that included fried catfish on one day and
beef brisket and cabbage with sweet potatoes on another.
Sims arranges piping-hot fries next to the burger and walks the
plate out to the bar. He returns and stands next to the counter. "I do this
from the heart," he confesses, grabbing a fresh rag to wipe up a few spills.
"I'm retired from the railroad, I'm drawing a pension, my wife is a teacher.
This is a labor of love for me. I do it because I love to cook." The waitress
brings in another ticket. Sims glances sidewise at the order on its clip and
starts ambling around his newly painted kitchen, assembling the next plate.
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