An inside look from the kitchen: Beef ‘N Bottle isn’t just for a night — it’s for life.
A night of service starts at Beef ’N Bottle before any guest walks through the doors.
It begins with a pre-shift meeting 30 minutes before service, when manager Rick Bouman rattles off restaurant slang terms like “86,” “counts” and “covers” to a crew of servers, each sitting at a booth, buttoning up their black shirts or pulling their hair back into a taut bun, like actors in a dressing room before going on stage.
They dim the lights, cue Sinatra, verbal the counts on food and number of guests for the evening, and begin the prep for 100 to 200 diners penciled-in for reservations that evening. They note the night’s special: a large filet with a 14 ounce lobster tail, sides and salad included.
They vacuum the carpets that have been replaced only a few times since the restaurant’s opening in 1978. They fold napkins and polish glassware. They dust the vintage photos of Marilyn Monroe and Rita Hayworth batting their eyes in the entryway.
It’s a muscle-memory hospitality rhythm.
At a recent pre-shift meeting, each server shares how long they’ve been there — 18 years, 16 years, 20 years, 35 years.
The consistency of these double digit tenures is mesmerizing, as staff turnover and the state of being short-staffed has had a crippling effect on many restaurants since the onset of the pandemic.
And somehow, Beef ’N Bottle has demonstrated a rare immunity. It’s busier than ever, Bouman said. What’s the secret ingredient?
[THE SAME SPOT: This classic steakhouse on South Boulevard isn’t going anywhere.]
At this seemingly untouched, mob movie-like steakhouse known for its filets and creamed spinach, there’s a behind-the-scenes story that may be a testament to the restaurant’s prosperity.
The secret sauce is the staff. (And arguably, the cocktail sauce bathing the shrimp and the mushroom gravy draping the filet, but that’s a story for another time.)
In this cavernous 1946 building off South Boulevard, a shift has become a career, and a career has become a life. Whether it’s a whole identity, a feeling of family, or for some, a second chance at life, Beef ’N Bottle has proven to be much more than a gig for the people who work here.
Taking care of each other
“They know that they’re going to be taken care of, and they know they got to take care of us,” Bouman said.
At the onset of 2020, amidst peak turnover in the industry, the Beef ’N Bottle staff barely budged.
“For all the days that we were closed, we were going to match the tips. I’m pretty proud of that … everybody’s still got rent to pay,” Bouman said.
And it wasn’t the first time Bouman executed this. In 2015, amid a kitchen remodel and temporary closure, he still paid every employee the equivalent of their missed tips.
A lot of restaurants say they’re like family, and this restaurant is no exception. But the crew here is actually family. Bouman throws around explainers like “baby daddy,” “mother,” “cousin of sorts,” “ex-husband” and “daughter” without shame.
“At Beef ’N Bottle, we keep moving ahead, but we are just a little peculiar … and we like it that way,” Bouman said.
Family first
For starters, Vanessa and Bernice Barrett are sisters working together in the kitchen.
Both Barrett sisters recently celebrated their 52nd anniversary with Beef ’N Bottle. Their mother, Miss Mable, previously worked in the kitchen, where server Chip Starling tells tales of her unforgettable, off-menu blackberry cobbler.
Before Beef ’N Bottle was the destination time-capsule steakhouse we know today, its original iteration was a dual-two-story concept on North Tryon Street, where Discovery Place now sits.
The first floor was the House of Steaks, dark, dim and wafting with cigar smoke. This is where Miss Mable first worked in the kitchen. Upstairs was The Melody Club, a 1960’s “gentlemen’s club,” which is where Bernice Barrett got her start at 16 years old, “swinging in a cage above the piano,” Bouman said. Ah — the famous dancer to line cook pipeline.
“Lord, have mercy,” Barrett said. “It’s a lot of fun, I made some money.” She laughs heartily and shies away from divulging too much.
“I was 16, and I was young. Not no more, I’m getting old now, I’m 68,” she said.
When asking Barrett for stories she’d like to share about her 52-year tenure, Starling intervened and said, “She is the story.”
He’s right. There is an enticing narrative about a 68-year-old woman whipping up those homemade dressings and cold seafood sauces for the bunches of young whippersnappers and old misers who come through these doors. Here, a woman holds the secrets and the stories of a steakhouse that for many decades has been a place where men have dined to discuss business, or as bartender Diane Starling — who is also server Chip Starling’s mother — said, to have “private meetings … speakeasy stuff … a cheater and the mistress.”
Barrett is proud of her work in the kitchen as the cold sauce-master, “‘Cause it’s good,” she said.
When celebrating her 50th anniversary, the team honored her with a plaque. Her response: “Where’s my check?”
It’s clear Barrett knows and loves what she’s doing in the kitchen. But her work doesn’t stop at the sauce station — she is still entertaining.
“I ain’t miss nothing. I’m still going.” She then proceeds to dance.
“Yeah, I dance … I make some money, too,” she said with a wink. She shows off the washing machine dance. She pushes a taste test of her stinging cocktail sauce. It’s all magnificent.
“Bernice is the life of the party,” said server Serena Woody. “She doesn’t need music to dance … She will go out to the table and entertain them.”
Barrett’s quick wit, impeccable cocktail sauce wizardry and possibly her dance moves are a testament as to why founder George Fine used to “handpick Christmas presents for Mable, Bernice and Vanessa every year,” Chip Starling said.
While everyone else got bonuses, this trio got personalized gifts. Fine gave Bernice’s daughter her first white baby doll — an eyebrow-raising anecdote that Barrett shared at Fine’s funeral.
“He loved them like family,” Chip Starling said.
Before Fine passed away, he specified in his contract with the restaurant that three people can never be fired from Beef ‘N Bottle — Bernice Barrett, Vanessa Barrett and “Bulldog.”
“Bulldog” is the dishwasher, a steadfast force in the kitchen who cleans dishes like art. Industry folk know that finding a loyal, consistent dishwasher is a feat, but here, “We can’t get rid of him,” Bouman said.
“Bulldog got hired in the ‘80s, and he’s still here,” he said. Like any good family member, Bouman said, on occasion, he’s had to bail Bulldog out of jail. “We keep it tight,” he said.
Filling in for each other
The kitchen staff is of course made up of more than just Bulldog and the Barrett sisters. Lisa Barnes and Erika Ross are the kitchen managers and also happen to be a mother-daughter duo.
Barnes got hired a few days after Bouman became manager back in 2006.
After a few slow days and a lagging kitchen staff during Bouman’s first week, he knew who to call to bring this place back to life in rapid-speed: Barnes.
“I’ve known Lisa since 2000, when I first started working with her … I called her … and said I need you … she was here the next Monday.”
And she had been there nearly every day since 2006. That is until Barnes was diagnosed with cancer about a year and a half ago. Still, the team showed up for each other.
“Prepinator 2” stepped in, Bouman said. Prepinator 2 being Barnes’ daughter, Ross.
A second chance at life
Ross showed up fully for Beef ‘N Bottle — and her mother — because they showed up for her when she needed it.
“They took a chance on me … I’m a reformed criminal, and I couldn’t get a job … I hadn’t even been out of jail for 3 months,” she said.
But when Bouman saw the work ethic Ross displayed in the kitchen, he offered her steady work to help with her probation and parole, and importantly, her recovery.
“I have been clean and sober for almost 11 years, and I owe a lot of it to this place … for me, it was a link to sobriety,” she said.
While there’s a pattern of alcoholism and addiction for a lot of restaurant workers, it was the reverse for Ross.
“I’m very grateful that they saw the potential in me … I take my job very seriously.”
Today, she’s the assistant kitchen manager, standing in for her mother, and working alongside her son, boyfriend and her friends.
“She’s my best friend,” said Lisa Guerra, a longtime server at Beef ’N Bottle.
Front of house changes
Guerra is Beef ‘N Bottle’s longest-serving server — 35 years.
“This restaurant is my child … I’ve raised 3 kids working here … my life events are always around this restaurant … I’m not leaving,” she said.
Again, Beef ‘N Bottle is family. So much so that when Fine was reaching the end of his life at 84, Guerra was the one who “took him to the hospital a couple of days before he died.”
Fine hired Guerra when she was 17, giving her five stars for being blonde and five stars for wearing a skirt to her interview.
After that, Guerra said, “I’m not going back here.” Yet, when she got a call from Fine that very evening, when the restaurant was short staffed, she showed up anyway. With 30 minutes of training, she was on the floor.
Like the back-of-house team, she has taken her work seriously for 35 years. This was no Melody Club with “bunny cocktail waitress and dancing,” Guerra said. She didn’t stand for that type of treatment. She’s a server and she liked her work.
And while Guerra found Fine to be “harmless,” she notes that Beef ‘N Bottle has changed with managing partners like Ron Rice and Bouman at the helm.
“It’s different now … Rick takes pride in the money they’re making … these people that we work for, they’re amazing.”
Beef ’N Bottle in the past was Fine’s social hour. “He didn’t care about making money,” Guerra said. “He bought the restaurant for his wife,” she added.
But gone are the days where the servers were all blonde women and Fine kept suit jackets, ties and vests in the closet for the men to wear if they showed up without them.
Today, Beef ’N Bottle is a career place. “I make really good money here,” Guerra shared.
Staying power
And still, despite the behind-the-scenes history and lore that enriches the four walls of Beef ’N Bottle, at the end of the day — or rather the beginning of the shift — the focus is still outward, providing exacting, yet familiar service for customers.
When the staff was asked about what has motivated them to stay for so many years, most answered: “the guests.”
Like the staff, the guests also keep coming back to this old school destination spot. Maybe if they were asked that same question — what motivates them to keep coming for so many years? — they would respond: the staff.
Beef ‘N Bottle
Location: 4538 South Blvd., Charlotte, NC 28209
Cuisine: steakhouse
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