Lake Michigan Shore style and culture • July 2007

Journeyman Cafe'
Food from the Land
by Jane Dunne

There is something deeply, unshakably luxurious in tasting locally grown food at the peat of perfection. A luscious, jewel-like platter of sliced heirloom tomatoes, their hues of gold, pink, orange and red glistening from just a slick of extra-virgin olive oil; fresh peaches dripping juice, their sweetness heightened by a few flecks of fresh black pepper; and spanking fresh soft shell crabs, sweet from sea water, quickly sautéed with a touch of lemon butter, are gifts from a wellspring of food profoundly routed in its home place and prepared at a world-class level.

Learning to eat with the ebb and flow of the seasons has been blurred by global commerce and the giant supermarkets’ conviction that consumers want everything all year-round. I don’t buy it or believe it. Noted British food columnist and cookbook author, Nigel Slater, remarks that he has honestly never met anyone who wanted to eat a slice of watermelon on a cold March evening or a plate of asparagus n January.

Over thirty years ago the committed chef, Alice Waters, got the ball rolling from her Berkeley, California, base by preaching sustainability and responsibility. Working with local growers, ranchers, fisheries and creameries, she searched for the best and then presented them without artifice at her renowned Chez Panisse. Since that time, her beliefs have been successfully adopted by chefs along both seacoasts. At a recent food and wine festival I attended in Charleston, South Carolina, the philosophy of farm-or-sea-to-table cuisine was prime in the cooking of noted chefs Dean Max of 3030 Ocean in Fort Lauderdale (wild American shrimp tart with asparagus salad) and John Besh of the New Orleans restaurant August (crawfish agnolotti with Allen Benton’s bacon and English peas). Middle America is slower to catch up, but on tables from Chicago to northwestern Michigan, fresh, locally grown food is beginning to sparkle with color and flavor.

So it was with more than a little interest that I first heard about Journeyman Café’ last November from a chef of some repute who pronounced the simple storefront restaurant on the main street of Fennville, Michigan, as being “ahead of the curve” in presentation locally grown, artisanal food in brilliant ways. “It’s a chef’s dream,” he said. That was all I needed to hear.

My first visit to the Journeyman was on a snowy December evening; the second, in early March. The food was extraordinary, the ambience comfortable and welcoming. A basket filled with breads of various textures, baked in the restaurant’s wood-fired oven, was addictive. Lamb Bolognese on fresh pappardelle, the flavors deep and vibrant, paired with a glass of chef-recommended 2004 Malbec, was a combination so perfect it still haunts me. Pan-roasted magret duck with blood orange vinaigrette served with curried red lentils, red onion and Mud Lake Farms spinach was another creative pairing of ingredients made for each other. Salads were impeccable; soups were gifts; desserts, reminiscent of a simpler time. The menus were limited but, as, Spencer Tracy once said, “What’s there is cherce.” A gem of a restaurant.

Chef/owner Matthew Millar told me his passion for using local, seasonal products has been with him for years, ever since he began cooking professionally while in college fifteen years ago. Self-taught, learning on the job, waiting until he could open his own place, he sometimes was let go because he had difficulty compromising on quality. He now considers himself a culinary detective, searching out the best he can find, local farmers who supply seasonal produce, poultry, dairy products, lam, pork-sixty local sources n all-each product, when featured on the ever-changing menu, given the provenance it deserves. Fish, ordered from an ethical purveyor, was in the sea only a day before;artisanal salumi arrives from the Oregon-based father of noted chef, Mario Batali. Millar’s wife, Amy Cook, an architectural designer who shares her husband’s philosophy, transformed and old coffee house into the attractive venue that is now Journeyman, and its often the one who welcomes at the door in the evenings.

The restaurant’s name was chosen because Journeyman is the third process of learning a trade. While many chefs view the fourth stage, Master, as their ultimate goal, Chef Millar knows his culinary expertise is a continual journey. The Journeyman Café’ is a true destination. Pure luxury.