Chantecleer Restaurant, East Dorset: Michel Baumann, Chef-Owner
“What keeps me going? I love what I do. I’ve cooked for more than 50 years. Not many restaurants are chef-owned for 40 years in Vermont, or elsewhere. We have a loyal crew who do a great job, and we have such amazing clientele who are super generous and keep showing up for us. We may not be waterproof, but we are resilient.” –Michel Baumann, Chef-owner, Chantecleer
Chef Michel Baumann is chef-owner of Chantecleer, Dorset’s beloved restaurant nestled within a converted 19th-century red clapboard dairy barn. Longtime locals still remember when the barn was a milking parlor and cows bedded down in what now holds the main dining room. Four nights a week, Michel and his talented team prepare elegant, creative cuisine with a seafood focus and a French touch. The horseshoe-shape bar, added in 1990, has become the heart of this cozy restaurant. Michel’s wife and business partner, Melanie, manages the front of house. “We married in 1995 and are still best friends, which is pretty amazing since we’re with each other 24/7.” Michel gained his formal culinary training in Basel, Switzerland where he was born and raised. He worked in top kitchens around the world before taking ownership of Chantecleer in 1982.
We’ve been here for 41 years. Call it resilience, stupidity, luck? But we didn’t have floods until Tropical Storm Irene in 2011. Since then, we’ve had five major floods, including some in winter due to ice jams. In sports, if you have five majors, you’re a champion. I guess that makes us champions in flood resiliency and recovery!
I know what Montpelier and Ludlow are going through. My heart goes out to them because I experienced all that with Irene. When it floods here in Dorset, the Battenkill rises and creeps in from the north and then surrounds our buildings and turns our property into a lake that’s 4 feet deep.
We call ourselves the S.S. Chantecleer. You have to find a little bit of humor for everything because you cannot be that dark all the time. I put a recording on the phone: “You’ve reached Chantecleer Restaurant. This is your Captain Chef Michel. The S.S. Chantecleer will rise from the mud and water and set sail again on July 20.”
The whole recovery process becomes more daunting the older I get. But we’ve learned so much from previous floods, which is both terrible and good, and we try to be proactive to mitigate some damage. Melanie and I call it the M & M Mitigation Company. After the April 2019 flood, we elevated everything we could. Air conditioning units that used to sit on cement pads outside are now on platforms 4 feet up on the side of the building. We purchased refrigerators and freezers with compressors on the top rather than the standard bottom. We wrap the electrical units underneath the stoves. These steps help us reduce losses and recover faster with less time closed.
You wake up in the morning or watch the flood happening and think, No more. I can’t take the heartache, the emotional and physical stress. But I can’t give up. This is our business. So you assess in the morning and roll out your game plan.
Knowing the weather forecast helps. This storm was predicted so we had some time to prepare. But no one really knew the severity. Some of Melanie’s friends and our staff came in on Sunday, July 9, and we put chairs on top of tables, piled things on top of the bar, pulled inventory and supplies off lower shelves in the kitchen, and moved pots and pans to higher areas.
There are two kinds of storms: ones where the water rises slowly and doesn’t stir up as much muck, and ones with mucky, violent, swift water that deposit a lot of silt after the water recedes. This flood was the second type. My staff and friends—we call them our seasoned helpers—arrived on Tuesday morning. The inside was a mess so we started with the outside. We tackled the egresses first. Clear the front and kitchen doors and shovel a path through the muck so you don’t keep tracking through it. We get dumpsters; rip out the heavy, wet carpet; and bring in equipment to dry out things. We attack as fast as we can to prevent mold. Once the water recedes, we scrape, squeegee, and Shop-Vac it out. Then we mop, scrub, power-wash, and sanitize. Ten days later, the health inspector came in and gave us the green light. We’ve got our systems down. The rain in subsequent days washed the silt off our beautiful perennial gardens that had been underwater so the flowers rebounded.
There’s always a silver lining of some kind. This time, a good friend of our Chantecleer family drove up on Tuesday, and three young men jumped out of the car. “I figured you could use some extra hands.” These guys were a godsend. Nothing bothered them compared to what they lived through back in Haiti. After Irene, this friend arranged for the Burr & Burton Academy football team to help with our clean-out. So I asked him: Why me? He said, “You made me one of the most perfect meals I’ve ever had in my life. I wanted to return the favor.”
This little branch of the Battenkill looks so innocent but it sure wreaks havoc. Nothing can hold back the power of water. You can guide it a little, but water will always win. What keeps me going? I love what I do. I’ve cooked for more than 50 years.
Not many restaurants are chef-owned for 40 years in Vermont, or elsewhere.
We have a loyal crew who do a great job, and we have such amazing clientele who are super generous and keep showing up for us. We may not be waterproof, but we are resilient.
