Can you build an empire out of jam? If you’re Jessica Koslow, the answer is yes. At 38, she is the chef and owner of Sqirl, a rough-hewed restaurant in the Silver Lake neighborhood of Los Angeles that, eight years after opening, routinely has a line of people three dozen deep on Saturday morning.
Ms. Koslow worked gigs in restaurants and TV production before turning her passion for making jam in copper pots (and baking bread to spread it on) into a full-time job. “Working in production helped me understand that it’s not just about great pastry,” she said. “You need a team to make things happen.”
What started as a preserves company has now, with the help of more than 40 employees, grown into a trendsetting slinger of produce-centric breakfast and lunch. Ms. Koslow was nominated for a James Beard Award this year (in the category of Best Chef: West) and will release her second cookbook in 2020. Spinoffs are spawning: Ms. Koslow recently opened Onda, a sea-inspired Mexican-Californian restaurant, with the chef Gabriela Cámara, and Sqirl Away, a takeout restaurant, is coming soon.
“Going from that preserves shop to the business we have now, it’s insane,” she said. “Running payroll, overseeing operations, I never imagined this for myself, but now I can’t imagine anything else.” I caught up with Ms. Koslow in late August.
Monday
7:15 a.m. Make a pot of Kettl’s Sencha tea and figure out the logistics of a trip north on Wednesday. I go to Sebastopol, Calif., every year to pick Gravenstein apples from Walker Apples. I found out about this variety, and this farm, seven years ago from the “fruit detective” David Karp, who’s a staple at the Santa Monica farmers market. I was looking for an apple to make an apple butter that didn’t have the toothy, thick quality that most do.
8 a.m. Pack up jars of jam — elephant heart plum and raspberries steeped in rose hips and rose petals — to ship to Santa Barbara. They’re for a dessert spread that I’m making for the wedding of my friend, Nic Jammet, a co-founder of Sweetgreen, this weekend.
8:56 a.m. Head to Sqirl, a seven-minute drive from home. I pass Ori Menashe, the chef and owner of Bestia and Bavel, on his morning run. Seeing a chef I respect who works late nights hit the pavement in the a.m. is an inspiration.
10:20 a.m. Drink an iced Americano and eat two pieces of Bub & Grandma’s toast with some housemade almond hazelnut butter and Blenheim apricot jam. To anyone who wonders if I still eat jam, the answer is a resounding yes.
12 p.m. Phone call with H.R. to go over recent hires for Onda, my new restaurant with Gabriela Cámara, which is opening soon in Santa Monica’s Proper Hotel.
1 p.m. Phone off, eyes closed. Twice a month, I get a massage with Christina Stone, a healer who’s versed in reiki, deep tissue, craniosacral and a bunch more techniques. It’s become a ritual over the past year — scheduled time to forcibly relax.
3:30 p.m. Lunch at Sqirl, a special of the day (pozole verde with smoked peas and pork) while taking a call with the Proper’s V.P. of food and beverage and Onda’s general manager. I also try Sqirl’s whey carrot cake gluten-free loaf — delicious. Failed today’s attempt to not eat dessert.
4:30 p.m. Meet Sophie McNally, my partner for Sqirl Away, our soon-to-open takeaway spot in East Hollywood, to discuss operations. It’s a way to increase Sqirl’s footprint, the types of dishes we serve and who we serve them to — Sqirl Away dishes will have a lower price point.
6 p.m. Arrive home to my husband, a deputy district attorney in Pasadena. He goes running while I pick figs from our tree. A fig mostarda with grilled sausages is swirling in my mind.
6:15 p.m. Scott Barry, Sqirl’s creative director, comes over, and we pull jams from the fridge that we need to shoot for Sqirl’s upcoming cookbook.
11:30 p.m. Bed, finally, after my daily Duolingo Spanish lesson (I’m in an industry where Spanish is important, and I’m not as proficient as I want to be); letting out the dog; a dose of probiotics; and too many emails.
Tuesday
6:50 a.m. Jump out of bed and realize I’ve slept way too late to make a 7 a.m. SoulCycle class with the queen of instructors, Angela Davis. I hate starting the day this way. I rearrange my morning so I can squeeze in a yoga class. I work out five to six days a week. It’s my version of meditation — something to clear my mind.
7:30 a.m. Arrive at Sqirl and run through the equipment order for our new kitchen, which is under construction next door. We’ve needed a larger space for a while. Our first day in business, we made $800, and we were so stoked. Now we do $7,000 on a slow day.
9:15 a.m. Speed-walk to Roam, a yoga studio near Sqirl, to make up for missing spinning.
10:20 a.m. Meeting to determine the packaging for food at Sqirl Away. I want to work with sustainable, compostable producers, and we decide to test packaging from World Centric, even though it’s more expensive than the alternatives.
3:20 p.m. Meet my friend Rosio Sánchez, the chef of Copenhagen’s Restaurant Sanchez, at Onda for a walk-through — she’s in L.A. on vacation, and I roped her into taste-testing some of our dishes. Tasting is crucial: None of our dishes are set, and each session determines whether something’s going to stay, be tweaked or get scrapped.
Gabi is Italian by heritage, and she loves a fritto misto. I was like, “We’re not an Italian restaurant, I don’t want to do a fritto misto.” But we took that idea and transformed it. We’ve landed on a version that has matzo-battered kelp and sardines instead of fried calamari. Instead of aioli, we made a sauce with jalapeños and furikake. Sometimes that happens and everyone high-fives, and sometimes we get stumped.
4 p.m. Meet Onda’s front of house management team to go over interviews they’ve been conducting. We’ve found our lead bartender!
8 p.m. After a marathon three-hour tasting session, I drive Rosio back to her hotel downtown and head home.
Wednesday
7 a.m. Out of bed. Pack for apple picking; print jam orders for wholesale distributors.
8 a.m. The plumbing inspector arrives at Sqirl to see our under-construction kitchen. He’s tough — he gave us a whole bunch of notes the first time, and we still didn’t make the cut the second time he came to inspect. Third time’s a charm — we get a pass.
9:30 a.m. Back home to meet my friend Josh Solomon, who’s flying with me to Sebastopol and driving back down. The first year I opened, I did this trip alone and decided “Never again.” Getting there and picking the apples is easy, it’s the crazy-long drive back that makes company necessary. We’ll be staying with a winemaker friend, Ketan Mody.
12 p.m. Land at Concord (less traffic than SFO), rent a car, drive up to St. Helena. Well, Josh drives while I call Sqirl’s general manager to discuss catering.
12:30 p.m. Stop at Gott’s Roadside for burgers and the “off-menu” spicy chicken sandwich.
3:30 p.m. Find a local hot yoga class, and while driving over, call Gabi to discuss her trip to L.A. next week. Working together happened quickly. We met in 2016 at René Redzepi’s MAD Symposium in Copenhagen, and then a chef who worked with me went on to work with Gabi. I found out about the space at the Proper Hotel and contacted her: “I have a really weird idea to do a restaurant where the guy who’s worked with both of us could be the chef de cuisine, we could be partners, dream the dream with me and look at the space.” I felt like it could be a beautiful story.
5 p.m. Yoga.
6:30 p.m. Head to a restaurant called the Charter Oak. I’m cooking brunch there in December and want to see the kitchen. I like moonlighting at other restaurants because it gives my culinary team a chance to get out there and see what else is going on. They’re typically in a bubble. Last year, Sqirl cooked lunch at MAD, so two of my cooks got to go to Copenhagen.
9 p.m. Highball back at the house. I reminisce with the guys — we’ve been friends for 15 years — and excuse myself for a Spanish lesson and probiotics.
Thursday
6:45 a.m. Wake up and get coffee at Farmstead. Ponder how I can open Sqirl Away in wine country.
8 a.m. Catch up on email.
10:30 a.m. Start prepping lunch: boiled creamer potatoes, chanterelle mushrooms in beurre de baratte, grilled corn, plus Sausalito salmon. By the time the guys come back from Ketan’s vineyard, I’m descaling and filleting the salmon for the charcoal grill. Pull out a bottle of white to drink with the meal.
2 p.m. Arrive at Walker Apples. I’ve come here every year since starting Sqirl in 2011 for a ritual that lasts no more than 20 minutes. Catch up with the proprietor, Lee Walker: “How’s the year been? Great crop, terrible crop? Don’t have enough labor? Seems to be a problem for all of us.” But really, it’s a bigger problem for farmers because their revenues fall to the floor. They’ve got apple trees, citrus trees, crops that create their livelihood, that are not able to be picked. It terrifies me, because a lack of labor is going to mean that some of these small farms go out of business.
2:30 p.m. Car packed. On the road back to L.A., our Waze E.T.A. keeps creeping up to 11:15 p.m. Josh is driving, so I do emails and my Spanish lesson. We stop only once — bathroom break, water, Skittles and crispy M&Ms. The essentials.
11:15 p.m. Unload the apples at Sqirl and head home.
Friday
7 a.m. Wake up, get organized for the wedding.
9 a.m. Head to Angela’s psycho SoulCycle class. It reminds me of figure skating — I competed until I was 19, and part of the fun was training with my friends. There’s a core group that comes to Angela’s class. We’re there to sweat for ourselves and support one another. As a boss, I spend all day telling people what to do — it’s great to have an hour to be a student. Angela never tells me I’m doing well.
10:30 a.m. Meet Betty Hallock, my cookbook writer, at Sqirl; we’re getting ready to turn in our final draft. We’re writing the iconic jam book. It’s what builds a legacy, hopefully. It’s like “Tartine Bread.” It sets the tone, says, “This is what we do best.”
4:45 p.m. Check in to the Ritz-Carlton Bacara at the same time as Sierra Tishgart, the co-founder of Great Jones cookware, the chef Missy Robbins and the Punch editor in chief Talia Baiocchi. This is going to be an industry-filled event.
5:15 p.m. Throw on clothes and head to the rehearsal dinner at the Santa Barbara Historical Museum. There are so many food stations outside, you’d think it was a food and wine festival: yuba gyoza, corn tempura, uni on the half shell, McConnell’s ice cream. Industry friends keep coming. There is no shoptalk: We’re there to catch up, get really drunk and dance the night away.
8 p.m. Text my team to make sure we’re all good for the desserts tomorrow. Given the caliber of food being served and the people in the room, I’m getting anxious. The plan: a huge, sprawling stand of cakes (carrot, almond ricotta), lemon bars, tapioca pudding in Sqirl jars and a plethora of cookies. Quadruple-check everything. It’s got to be perfect.
Interviews are conducted by email, text and phone, then condensed and edited.
