Thomas Wright: I got into cooking when I was young because it was kind of a method of survival. My mother was kind of a horrible cook, to put it mildly. She was very resourceful — she proved that anything could be put in the oven, baked to the point of refusal, topped with potato chips and served to the family. The first thing I ever made was a spaghetti dinner when my mom was out of town, and it plugged up the garbage disposal when we got rid of it. But practice makes perfect, and cooking is something I’ve always enjoyed.
I worked in tech for about six years, then did a bit of civil engineering for ten years. I was out in D.C,, and I’d been living there for a while when the American History Museum started redoing Julia Child’s kitchen. I thought, that’s really cool. Two months later, I was on my way back to Colorado, where I enrolled in culinary school at Cook Street and never looked back. That was fourteen or fifteen years ago.
After school, I got in with Ted’s Montana Grill when they were relatively new. I helped open a location, then worked at three locations in the Denver area. The last one was out by the airport, and we grew the business massively because we were the only restaurant out there. It was good experience with high-volume dining. After that, I became the kitchen manager/banquet chef at the Denver Aquarium. I got some really good experience dealing with incredibly high-volume large buffets, holiday parties and a catering-type atmosphere.
I saw a few disasters in those days. My first week at Ted’s Montana Grill, I learned how to clean up the restaurant after someone sets off the ancillary system by accident. An employee saw a fryer bubbling, thought it was going to explode, and pulled it. If that happens, I learned you don’t bother calling the fire department, because they’re already on the way; you call the health department. Luckily, this system was just the water instead of the powder — there was an oil slick of antifreeze all over the floor. We got it cleaned up and opened for dinner. Then there was the night the dishwasher pushed the panic button in the walk-in and had the SWAT team surround the restaurant. We had a few guests greeted with shotguns as they left. I had a flash flood roll down the staircase into the kitchen one night at the Aquarium — one of the big bio towers had a stuck valve and the water was just free-flowing. But the one I get the most shit for is the time I’d just gotten done making a huge batch of Hollandaise. I set it down on the corner of the table and turned around, and I heard this thud. Suddenly, I could feel the warm egg running down my back. I’d spilled the whole thing.
It’s kind of daunting coming into a restaurant like Racines, where a good portion of the clientele is regulars. You want to try something and put your spin on it, but they’re either going to let you or they’re not. We had a couple of regulars who were upset recently because I made lasagna as a special one night. One of them said, “Racine’s isn’t a lasagna place.” The server nicely said, “It’s great, you should try it,” and luckily, he loved it. We try not to say no to anyone; the answer is always yes. If a guest has been coming to Racines for thirty years and they order something that hasn’t been on the menu for ten years, we’ll make it for them if we have the ability. I’ve got people in the kitchen who’ve been here almost since day one. They know how to take care of people. And if they’re off that day, I can dig up old recipes on the computer, though our computer is from thirty years ago, too. Sometimes I go out and talk to them, and say, “Hey, I’m the new guy. I want to help you, so tell me about the dish you’re asking for.” They might get my twist, but I try to do it pretty close.
We’re working on changing the menu, and for the first time, we’re adding a happy hour. For happy hour, we’re starting small: We’re looking at signature items that sell and cutting them down in size. Once we’re rolling, we’ll start doing a weekly happy-hour special — shrimp cocktail or bacon-wrapped shrimp — to make this more of a destination. As for the rest of the menu, we have almost 100 items on the menu, and the ’80s did call, and they want some of their food back. A lot of our staple items will never go away. Like the farmer’s breakfast: We sell more of that than anything in here. There are so many staple breakfast items. We have a pretty good following for our Mexican food; we make a good-quality green chile. Our burritos and our enchiladas are all made from scratch, and people love it, so you can’t take that away. The nutty cheese salad — I would never think to mix bananas and chicken, but once you try it, it’s fantastic, so that will never go anywhere.
But we’re going to cut the menu down a bit: We’ve come to the realization that the things we do incredibly well, we’ll keep, but other things that don’t sell as well, we’ll trim them. When you have such a big menu, ultimately, the guest has to pay for that, and we want to keep quality high and prices low. So the chicken marsala is probably going to go. I’d really like to see the breakfast skillets go, too, but guests love them, so we’re going to jazz them up a bit.
I like doing big, exciting food. That’s what this place is about — you don’t walk out of here hungry. So it’s not really about changing things; it’s about refining and updating and refining the bar and giving our guests what they deserve. Like, the fish and chips are really good, but I’d like to make them better by using a darker beer and upping the seasoning on the french fries. Our eggs Benedict sell like crazy on Sunday, but we’re not getting the good-quality crab we used to, so I want to switch it up. I’d like to incorporate some quinoa, a little more avocado and fresh fruit. We’re going to bring out a little more seafood. We’re using a wild-caught Argentinian red shrimp that eats like lobster, and I’m using it to make shrimp enchiladas, shrimp tostadas, pastas. I’m trying to take away some of the heavy, thick cream sauces and let the fish and vegetables come into their own. We have a new beef short ribs with a cheese polenta — it’s heavy, stick-to-your bones kind of stuff. We’re updating, making little changes here and there. We don’t have a huge child clientele here, but I’d like to do more fish and protein on the kids’ menu instead of fried food. Change is not always easy in this restaurant. If you give something as opposed to taking it away, people are more apt to say, cool, let’s try it.
And stop saying you have a food allergy if you don’t have a food allergy. Everyone has a food allergy these days. When you alert the staff that you have an allergy, we have to use certain protocols. We use different cookware. We go to a lot of lengths to keep people safe, and it throws a kink into the service because we kind of get thrown into panic mode. If you don’t really have an allergy, be honest — just say you’re not eating bread. We’ll still accommodate you. We’re professionals, and we’ll take care of you.
I’d like to retire here. It’s a great fit. I want to see it stay with the times. Let the kids have fun with their $50 steaks and microgreens salads, and we’re going to keep doing what we do but add a little edge to it. We do between 500 and 1,100 covers per day. The weekends are crazy between brunch and dinner. The kitchen is insanely hot. You just put your head down and get it done, and there’s a lot of yelling and foul language. But Racines is the Denver culture; it’s part of the community. We don’t have to write down our brand. If you have on a shirt and shoes, we’ll take care of you.
I’ve cooked for a lot of people over the years. We’ve had some celebrities in to the restaurant. Dennis Hopper and Ted Nugent in Ted’s; Rob Lowe. I’ve met some really cool people. But my proudest moment was when I used an AED [defibrillator] on one of our guests here and he lived. He still comes in here and has breakfast with his wife; they’re longtime patrons of this restaurant. He told us he’s going to endorse us as the best restaurant in Denver in which to have a heart attack. That made me feel really good for a few days.
Racines, 650 Sherman Street, 303-595-0418, racinesrestaurant.com.
Hours: 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. Monday through Thursday, 7 a.m. to 11 p.m. Friday, 8 a.m. to 11 p.m. Saturday, 8 a.m. to 10 p.m. Sunday.