The chef's path to kitchen harmony

RESTAURANTS TURNING TO FENG SHUI IN QUEST FOR BALANCE AND PROSPERITY

At Betelnut Pejiu Wu in San Francisco, the decor had to be red. At PlumpJack Squaw Valley, the seasonal menu had to include fire, earth, metal, water and wood elements. And at Crimson in Los Gatos, it was all about the bathroom.

These days, the new key to success is location, location, location -- in more ways than one. Northern California restaurants have turned to feng shui, the ancient Chinese art of arrangement and placement, in hope of achieving not only balance and harmony, but also packed tables and glowing reviews.

Feng shui originated more than 4,000 years ago as a way to place graves auspiciously to ensure the future success of families and nations. It has gone far beyond that now and is being applied to include how we live, play, work and dine.

You'll find its principles at work in the design of the new Hong Kong Disneyland, set to open in 2005. In Northern California, with its diverse population, proximity to Asia and willingness to embrace all things New Age-y, feng shui has been incorporated into the design of companies such as Sybase in Emeryville and Esprit de Corp in San Francisco, some Charles Schwab offices, a host of new Bay Area homes and even restaurants.

While burning incense, hanging crystals and other such feng shui practices may seem like smoke and mirrors to some, interest in the ancient art is growing.

"Our lifestyles these days are so hectic," says Chris Beals, owner of Pathways in Redwood City, which has specialized for 15 years in feng shui consultations. "People want things calmer. Anything they can do to get more peace, they will do it."

Beals says her business has quadrupled in the past two years. Her clients, who pay $175 for a six-week class or $300 for a business consultation, span the gamut of ethnicities and religions. They include not only Crimson and Don Ramon's restaurants, but also real estate agents, attorneys and even a hospital (all of which she declined to name because she says they fear losing credibility).

Feng shui means "wind" and "water." It prescribes the placement of furniture and other objects to manipulate chi, the metaphysical life force believed to animate all living things. Practitioners believe good chi makes life wonderful, whereas bad chi wreaks havoc.

Under feng shui, an area -- a kitchen, office or house -- is divided into an octagon (ba gua), with each side representing an aspect of life: career, knowledge, family, wealth, fame, marriage, children and helpful people. Once the area is mapped, symbolic objects, mirrors, plants and water fountains can be placed in strategic locations to convert bad chi into good.

Physical well-being

To San Francisco restaurant developer George Chen, much of feng shui boils down to good old common sense. Putting a house in front of a hill naturally makes the home more sheltered. Putting up a mirror to see behind you if you sit with your back to a door leaves you less prone to being startled.

"If it doesn't hurt to think about feng shui when designing a restaurant, why not incorporate it?," Chen says. "All the architects I've dealt with are open to it, not because I'm a big client, but because it makes sense."

Chen, who has developed 10 restaurants in the Bay Area, including Shanghai 1930, Betelnut Pejiu Wu and Long Life Noodle Company & Jook Joint, has incorporated feng shui into all his projects. Chen, whose family practiced the traditional art, believes so firmly in it that he has turned down restaurant projects because of bad feng shui.

Of course, all the feng shui in the world does not guarantee infinite good fortune. But even though a restaurant named Feng Shui recently closed in San Francisco, Chen believes it makes sense to draw on feng shui to design a place where the atmosphere, lighting, decor and food are relaxing and comfortable.

It took him four years to open Betelnut Pejiu Wu, but he persevered because feng shui had convinced him the location was one of greenery, wealth and luck. Now, he says, it remains one of his most successful restaurants ever. The decor is red, the color of prosperity, the most auspicious and powerful hue in feng shui. And the windows open up to the sidewalk and outdoor seating so that trees, which otherwise might block the flow of good energy, instead are better incorporated into the overall environment.

Chen prefers an unobtrusive approach when working with feng shui. For instance, instead of putting up a mirror to deflect the view of a light pole (which has a potentially disruptive energy field), Chen will design the restaurant so you don't see the light pole.

But that's not always possible.

At Crimson restaurant, the "wealth" corner ended up being in the single, unisex bathroom, the worst place, Beals says, because it means the business' money will be flushed down the toilet.

To deflect negative energy, chef-owner Diane Rose put a small mirror near the base of the toilet, as well as a piece of obsidian (glass made from cooled molten lava). For added prosperity, she bought a deep red terry cloth cover for the toilet lid. And to help keep wealth from draining away, she put a sign above the toilet that reads: "Please kindly put the lid and seat down. After all, a woman is cooking your food."

Rose, who had read up on feng shui, was open to most of Beals' changes. Except for one. Rose, and her husband, chef Eric Tosh of Eulipia restaurant in San Jose, had done almost all the renovation themselves, including the ceiling work, which required lowering the sprinklers, installing acoustic tiles and spray painting it all. She wanted to create a cocoon-like environment in the tiny dining room, with crimson walls and a dramatic black ceiling. Beals thought she had constructed a disaster.

"It's too dark," Beals says of the ceiling. "It attracts negative energy and a negative clientele."

Even so, Rose won't budge on the ceiling. She intends to keep the color but may add gold fabric or lights that mimic stars to lighten the look.

The ceiling also was one of the last things owner Lee Ramirez wanted to tinker with at Don Ramon's, the colorful, tri-level Mexican restaurant. Two weeks ago, she relented, taking down the last of the hundreds of papeles picados, festive doily-like decorations that had formed almost a canopy. Old and dusty, they were cluttering up the place, Beals says, inhibiting the flow of good energy.

Ramirez also had replicas of the Virgin Mary, Buddha, voodoo symbols and icons from almost every other religion scattered around the restaurant, causing conflicting and unharmonious energy. Beals advised her to get rid of them.

Now the restaurant, in its 20th year at its south of Market location, is making a significant profit for the first time, according to Ramirez. Of course, it helped that Beals, who also has a background in hotel and restaurant management, suggested Ramirez expand the number of private parties to create new business and work on keeping costs down. But Ramirez believes it's the feng shui that really made the difference.

"Once we removed so much inside, you could feel the lightness. The energy is better," Ramirez says. "We used to be totally surrounded by dot-coms, and they all died. But we're still here, doing well."

Contact Carolyn Jung at cjung@sjmercury.com or (408) 920-5451. Fax (408) 271-3786.