Toward Opening Day with a Bullet

A very tired Maureen, who has neither the time nor the inclination to proofread this before she posts it, says:

Now I know why, when we first moved back and spoke of our intentions to open a restaurant, our friend and fellow restaurateur collapsed in the shoulders and said said, "Why would you ever want to do that?" She were mostly joking, of course, but people? I soooooo get what she were saying. This is why they make those 18-hour bras, isn't it? Since we got our liquor license three and half days ago, we have seriously considered sleeping in the space.

And getting that liquor license wasn't without its drama. The second Tom had the signatures in hand to obtain the actual license, he got in the car and headed for Concord. It was mid-afternoon and the state offices were open until 4:30p, so we had plenty of time. Except when he arrived there, a little before 3:30p, he was told that the trade name was printed incorrectly on our permits. I got a frantic call from him asking for the phone numbers for the Health and Fire Departments, which I pulled off the Internet. While he raced back to Manchester, he called both agencies and the amazing staff there pulled together new permits and had them waiting for Tom when got back into town. Then it was back in the car and a race against the clock to get back to Concord before the state offices closed. It was 4:26p when he presented the corrected permits and got the license.

Then, there's the usual drama. The kind that's definitely more than a pain in the ass, but isn't what you'd call catastrophic: vendors lacking pride in craftsmanship who have no choice but to re-do their work because we didn't give them another choice; delays in signage production owing to back-ordered paint and the time the paint will take to cure; other, smaller parts of the interior vision not translating as well as we'd hoped when they were put into place.

But we had our first staff meeting and Tom and I are confident that we attracted an aces team who believes in and reflects our overall vision; out of the kitchen we're getting good energy, good noise and good smells; we've got our linens on site, our liquor orders placed and the stereo speakers wired and placed.

We're almost there, but not quite. There are easily a hundred things for every member of the staff, including Tom and me, to do and do just this morning. And then there are the phone calls. Vendors. Ad sales. Curious folks about town. There are the faxes. Deliveries. Questions. Endless proofreading. And let's not forget feeding the parking meters (that's a full-time job in itself).

It's early yet today, but already I'm behind. Still, the thought it takes to write a post here forces me to slow down the adrenaline rush and remember that it won't be very long at all before someone I love sees a dream he's been making for the last 20 years come true. I have never wanted one, single thing for 20 years; I can't imagine what that must feel like. But it does me a little misty when I try to.

Y'all keep an eye on this space for the opening announcement, you hear?

"But All Shall Be Well...

...and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well."


T.S. Eliot quoted this line from Julian of Norwich in the fourth of his Four Quartets, Little Gidding, and it's a relevant balm for the rash of stress and chaos spreading across our lives at the moment.

But my favorite quote from this English Mystic called Julian, the mantra if you will that's getting us through these days, is this:

"Start by doing what is necessary; then do what is possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible."

We wouldn't mind a few of those miracles you hear about sometimes either. I'm just sayin'.

Oh, yeah: this is Maureen if you hadn't guessed already. Carry on.

Oh, but seriously.

You thought we were kidding?

Since We Last Blogged (a break down of the last five days)

Maureen says:

Problems bank fraud policies have caused versus prevented: 3

Instances where I said the F-word in a conversation...with my mother: 2

Chefs hired: 1

Business cards printed: 1,000

Menu layouts approved: 2

Personal guarantees signed and notarized to waive exorbitant deposit fees: 2

Tax returns filed: 4

Solicitations to provide credit-card processing machines: 17

Life/business partners with water-on-the-knee: 1

Ounces of coffee I used to drink daily: 16

Ounces of coffee I drink daily now: 40

New coffees tasted in the search for a supplier: 3

Times the phrase "I'm tired," has been uttered in our house: 13

Personal emails and phone calls I owe: 11

Days since my appetite up and left: 2

Nights waking up in blind panic: 3

Stitches I've knitted in attempts to maintain sanity: 3,776

Realizations that we're fortunate to be doing what we're doing despite the aforementioned exhaustion, panic and a loose grip on sanity: countless

Avoidance. Sort of. Not Really.

Maureen says:
Am nearly out from under the weather, although winter-chapped skin and a nasal tone would lead you to believe otherwise. My sense of taste, however, has returned and just in time to sip my way through a package of sample teas that arrived in yesterday's mail. Three bags into my tasting, a fourth steeping now, and my choice of suppliers is simple. I'll opt out of revealing which Choice Organic Teas I've selected, but I'll promise you that each of them is perfectly lovely. I've also located a local, independent coffee roaster that, like COT, supports Fair Trade. Am very excited to schedule the tasting as, whenever possible, we'd like to do business with local independents (if you'd like to learn more about Fair Trade click here; to find Fair Trade Certified products near you, click here).

Tea is one of several things I turn to in moments of overwhelm. I'm sure Tom would prefer that I turn to it always as some weeks ago the panacea-of-the-day was dismantling my home office somewhere between the time he started dinner and well past my bedtime. Three hours and many reconfigurations later, it became a much better-functioning space (still in need of paint, still with no art on the walls or blinds in the window, but, you know: Rome. A day. Not built in).

I know, I know--my behaviors are transparent even to me. Create an illusion of control over the world? Check. A quick and easy sense of accomplishment? Check. Impose order on a room that has, for months and months also served as a catch-all for things like the cordless drill, shipping boxes and gift wrap? Check. Channel nervous energy? Check. (If you find yourself in a similar state of anxiety but without a home office to reconfigure, then I highly recommend the also-satisfying task of tidying the pantry cupboards.)

It may seem to some that I'm resisting overwhelm or worse, denying I'm overwhelmed by procrastinating and thus making matters worse. The truth is, I'm actually working with overwhelm the best way I know how: by performing tasks that produce tangible results. Call me daft, dotty or dim, but when the last book's spine is aligned with the edge of the shelf and various half-emptied boxes of corn starch are combined into one, I feel a little bit stronger. A little more equal to the tasks waiting for me. A little more David to the GIANT that is opening a restaurant.

Because, while I can afford myself the luxury of vacuuming the dryer vent or deleting watched items off the DVR, a moment spent in self doubt would break the spiritual bank.

This post? Provides the joy of having written without the pain of writing about the 427, 982 things that are freaking me out right about now.

Going Once, Going Twice

Tom says:
All things considered, the weekend was fairly quiet as far as the restaurant was concerned. Maureen and I researched regional and local produce suppliers, finalized and placed the table top orders, and talked shop between movies playing on the DVR. The cold that's been plaguing me for the last 10 days settled in my ears, warranting a visit to the doctor today. A hundred and twenty bucks and one prescription for antibiotics later, I'm actually starting to feel better. Unfortunately, Maureen woke up this morning with what she calls a thick throat. She's been achy and cranky all day and the return (arrival?) of winter weather isn't helping.

Health matters aside, though we don't yet have our permits for electrical or plumbing, I did learn from the buildings department on Friday that we can go ahead and start in on the demo and the painting. I've scheduled the crew to begin on Wednesday (note to self: take more 'before' photos). Meantime, our interior designer, Ariel, continues to take my vision and run with it, all the while managing the various projects I've thrown at her with such finesse that I've nothing but confidence that my vision will become reality. And a fantastically beautiful reality at that.

Tomorrow, I'm headed to Massachusetts for an auction that's being held at a failed Italian restaurant. The timing is right, not just because of where we're at with our own re-fit, but because the equipment being auctioned is, by commercial kitchen standards, still new (the restaurant was in operation for only 14 months and the lifespan of commercial equipment is approximately 10 years).

We may get some good deals, we may not. It's not how much we have to spend, but how much we're willing to spend and, in this case, there's equipment removal, hauling and installation to factor into the price. Even though this auction may be good for us, it's a hardcore reminder that the restaurant business carries a high risk. I can't imagine the owners of this place ever thought they'd be in this position a little over a year after opening.

Actually, I'm pretty sure they were excited, optimistic and convinced they'd take their town by storm. Especially when you consider that it probably took them more than a year and $500K to execute the initial build out of the space. It's too easy to Monday-morning quarterback their failure and insist the reasons they failed are the same traps I'll actively avoid: my offerings will be superior, my service standards higher, my location better, my marketing slicker. The hard, cold truth is that the reasons a restaurant fails aren't always that clear. Sometimes, the root cause of the failure is forever ambiguous. And if it's happened to you, you have to find a way to live with that. If it could happen to you, you have to be prepared to find a way to be able to live with that.

Looking back over my career, it seems I've always worked for successful operations and with some of the finest independent restaurateurs in the country. And yet, when I look at my resume--just the facts, ma'am--there's only one restaurant I've worked in over the last 10 years that's still in business.

If you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to go throw up now.

No Turning Back

Maureen says:
Did I need a lot of coaxing? You bet I did. I’m what you’d call selectively risk averse. Ask me to risk my heart and leave behind an entire established life to move to the other side of country and I’m your girl (this is exactly what Tom asked me to do after dating for a mere three months; we lived for two years in Carmel, California and returned to New England in August ’06, in large part, because we liked what we saw happening in downtown Manchester). Ask me to risk my finances and an entire established life to pursue a business venture with a success rate a coin flip could determine and I no longer know your name. I’m exaggerating, of course. I didn’t turn my back on Tom, but I did make him go through the painful exercises of answering the hard ‘what if’ questions, outlining worst-case scenarios, and detailing exit strategies that can be put into play if the coin toss isn’t in our favor.

But, like Tom, once the papers were signed, the monies distributed, and the keys in our hands, I experienced a sense of relief. There would be no more point/counterpoint discussion about whether or not to move forward with the venture. The deal was done and I was done creating anxiety around it.

Or was I? There was, after all, that restaurateur couple in Milford this summer, who, it was discovered, had been squatting inside their restaurant before they skipped town (they were flushing the toilets with water dredged from the river). A restaurant, I’d heard, that had been going for and getting $30 a plate. Maybe it was the price point that contributed to their demise. Who knows? It’s not my place either to speculate or pass judgment, but the end to their story is the sort, that if I don’t keep up with yoga practice, will surely keep me up nights even I agree with Tom when he says the key to any business, but especially restaurants, is what you do with the money that comes through your doors.

Fear, anxiety and tales of others’ woe aside, it’s something exactly like a gift having your life partner be so obviously fulfilled. After 20 years of increasingly supportive roles in the restaurant business, Tom’s not only taking center stage to star in his life, he’s producing and directing. Me? I’m the writer.