A star is reborn

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 07/05/2017 (3101 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

Bruce Smedts, founder of the White Star Diner, lists two reasons for his decision to move from his longtime location in the Exchange District to a freshly renovated, 44-seat space in the heart of downtown, at 258 Kennedy St.

First of all, Smedts, who staged a “soft” grand opening at his new digs April 11, had always dreamed of owning a “sit-down joint,” which was never an option at his original spot because of its cosy, 480-square-foot confines. More importantly, he also wanted to give his 23-year-old niece, Hannah Fenton-Smedts, an opportunity to buy into the business.

“She’s worked for me for a number of years — we’re very close — and it was a situation where she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do in life,” says Smedts.

His nautically themed nook — which offers 18 sumptuous sandwiches as well as a host of flavour-packed burgers, dogs and poutines (meatloaf poutine, anyone?) — is named for the defunct British shipping line that owned and operated the Oceanic as well as the ill-fated Titanic.

“I had wanted to move to a bigger spot for a while, but I didn’t necessarily want to work all the hours — it’s killer at my age — so I asked her if she wanted to partner up,” he says while seated in a scarlet red booth steps away from his throwback, four-seat lunch counter. “I said we might have to take a few hits at first while we’re getting our feet under us, but in the end it will be worth our while.

“But what I’m really hoping, when all is said and done, is I can give this place to her. I don’t need anything else. My partner and I have our house; we’ve done well for ourselves. But if I can set Hannah and her mom up to have a good life out of this, that would be No. 1 in my books.”

 

It could be said Smedts learned to wok before he could crawl. He grew up in Transcona and cannot remember a time in his childhood when he wasn’t trailing behind his mother in the kitchen, peppering her with questions about how to prepare this or that.

“I was big into braising and stewing when I was a kid,” Smedts says with a chuckle, admitting he might be the first to have ever uttered that sentence.

“I remember making a Swiss steak when I was about 11 or 12 and (being) fascinated by the concept of browning meat and then building flavours. I was often throwing different concoctions together to try. Some were very successful, and some my family politely ate.”

His other love besides cooking is ocean liners. A few days after his parents took him to see the classic disaster film The Poseidon Adventure at the Starlite Drive-in in 1972, he spent an entire weekend at his neighbourhood library poring through tome after tome written about the RMS Queen Mary, the boat many of the film’s scenes were filmed aboard.

‘It’s always been very important to me that people know my place is family-run and that the owner is accessible’– Bruce Smedts

Smedts was finally able to marry his two passions in 2009 when, after years of toiling at a variety of restaurants including Maxime’s, Chamberlyn’s and Mother Tucker’s Food Emporium, he took over the space that once housed Albert Street Burgers. Minutes after he hung up a sign advertising the restaurant’s new name, a passerby asked him what the moniker referred to. After being let in on the Titanic connection, the wiseacre cracked, “In that case, I hope your business doesn’t sink.”

Smedts first set foot in his present-day surroundings in early 2015. The premises, which opened as a Salisbury House in 1938 before going through a number of transformations over time, was for sale, and Smedts headed there for lunch on a “scouting mission.” His meal was nothing to write home about — he ordered a Reuben sandwich and poutine only to be told five minutes later, “We’re out of corned beef… and gravy… and cheese” — but he was smitten with the room, despite its decor being demonstrably dated.

“For sure, it had tons of potential, but not a lot of people could see what I saw,” he says. “But my partner, Mark, stood behind me and had a vision with me and knew that I could do it.”

One problem: by the time Smedts made up his mind to tender an offer, the restaurant was no longer for sale. He assumed it had been scooped up by another party and figured he’d keep looking.

Fast-forward to March 2016. While he was off work for two months recovering from a broken ankle — an injury he suffered in Mexico when he was flung about by a “rogue, seven-metre-tall wave” while swimming — Smedts noticed the Kennedy Street property was on the market again. Not wanting to miss out a second time, he asked Mark, “Seriously, can we do this?” When his partner’s answer was “Yes,” Smedts made an appointment with his banker to make the deal.

Smedts and Hannah took possession Dec. 1. Until they closed shop on Albert Street for good at the end of January 2017, the pair endured long days of cooking there until the late afternoon, then spending their evenings and weekends in renovation mode.

“The first house I owned was a fixer-upper in River Heights, so I was confident I could do most of the work here myself,” Smedts says, noting some of their chores involved refinishing the floors, changing the lighting fixtures and updating the metalwork.

“Hannah, on the other hand, had never so much as picked up a paintbrush before, but by the time we were done, she was running around with a belt-sander like she’d been doing it all her life.”

 

Some have already surmised there was a third reason for Smedts’ relocation: namely, his new surroundings — three times the size of the old ones — provide him with more than enough elbow room to display myriad pieces from his decades-old collection of artifacts and souvenirs associated with the shipping industry.

“I have added a few more pictures of vessels that are favourites of mine, for sure,” he says, mentioning he recently considered placing a bid on a teaspoon traced to the SS Normandie, which was listed on eBay for — gulp — $4,000.

“It’s surprising how many people come in and know lots about ocean liners. Last Saturday, I had this full, 30-minute conversation with a customer who’d never been by before, but after putting two and two together, figured somebody here must know something about ships.”

From time to time, Winnipeggers have presented Smedts with keepsakes of their own — items they no longer have room or a use for, he says. Smedts fondly remembers an elderly woman who, immediately after she read an article about his hobby in the Free Press, drove across the city to give him a pair of menus from the RMS Queen Elizabeth, which dated back to 1954.

While the White Star’s first incarnation operated from 11 a.m. to 4:30 p.m., the new location is open until 7 p.m. Monday to Saturday. Another change is the addition of a liquor licence. Diners can have wine or beer with their shrimp po’ boy or pulled pork burger. (If you’re not in the mood for a libation, the White Star still offers nearly 30 flavours of milkshakes.)

One thing that hasn’t changed is that Smedts remains the face of the business. When he was in the Exchange District, he gained a reputation for being front and centre and often knowing what his regulars were in the mood for “even before they did.”

“It’s always been very important to me that people know my place is family-run and that the owner is accessible,” he says. “One of the best things about having an eat-in spot is I’m now able to walk around the dining room and kibitz with people for however long, whereas before it was strictly takeout, and we only had a few seconds to chat before they were on their way out the door.

“So yeah, be warned: coming here will probably involve listening to me crack corny jokes, while at the same time making sure everything’s OK and everybody’s enjoying themselves.”

David Sanderson writes about Winnipeg-centric businesses and restaurants.

david.sanderson@freepress.mb.ca