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fallingforyou123 · 3 years

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Coffee and Drive-ins-A Cupcakes and Therapy Moment

A/N: Here's the next part, hope you guys enjoy it! Sorry it took so long but this weekend was hell, ended up in the hospital for a little bit, but I'm all good now! As always, likes are reblogs are appreciated.

Summary: A drive in, therapy, first kiss

Word Count: 1.6k (she's short)

Warnings: First kiss awkwardness

Masterlist

The morning air was crisp and cool, summer starting to turn into fall in a matter of days. The streets were deserted, the city still in the process of waking. Bucky was seated on the steps of his building with Alpine, sleep having never come last night. It had been a few days since that night in the bakery and he was still floating on a cloud of peace. The nightmares were still there, still plaguing his nights, but during the day he could drift off to a place where he was with you. You had seen each other every morning, Bucky stopping in for breakfast at the bakery before starting his day.

As the sun started to rise over the buildings, Bucky began to walk, his legs carrying him the familiar way to the bakery. When he gets there he greets the boy behind the counter, one of the college kids that you have in on busy days, and heads over to his usual table. He’s only sitting for a few minutes before you head over to him, his coffee and breakfast in hand.

“Good morning! I wish I could sit and eat with you today, but I've got pastries in the oven.”

You hand him his stuff, place a kiss on his cheek, and head back into the kitchen. Bucky chuckles as he watches you walk away, you’re always on the move. He sits and enjoys his coffee while reading the newspaper, making a mental note to compliment you on breakfast later. Bucky has become your unofficial taste-tester over the past few days, bringing him whatever new creation you’re working on, today was cranberry orange scones.

When he’s finished, Bucky cleans up his things, pops his head into the back to say goodbye, and heads out the door. The sun is fully out now, replacing the chill from this morning with nothing but a light breeze. It’s Sunday, which means he’s headed to another therapy session, but for some reason, the usual dread of going has lessened.

He arrives at the building exactly 10 minutes early, his usual time, and buzzes in. He nods his head in recognition towards the receptionist and walks into the office. It’s routine, it’s something he’s been doing for months now. He sits on the couch, ready to say no more than a few words, but the second his therapist asks him if anything new has happened, he starts rambling.

He tells her about finding you in the market, about the date, even his daily breakfasts, and she’s thrilled. “This is what we’ve been working towards for months, James. You don’t need to surround yourself with people you’ve hurt and feel miserable, you can let people in who make you feel good.”

Bucky goes silent at that, he knows it’s true, but the need to suffer the same as the people he’s hurt will always be there.

“Have you told her yet, about your past?”

His head snaps up, the thought having never crossed his mind. “No.”

“James, you can’t lie to her, she needs to know. She’ll find out eventually, whether you tell her or not. You’re not a ghost, not anymore, stop pretending you are.”

“Eventually, maybe. I just met her, I can’t lose her once she knows what I’ve done.”

The good feeling he’d had earlier slowly turns into annoyance. He glances at the clock, ready to leave, willing time to move faster. His therapist sighs, takes her glasses off and places them on the table beside her, and looks at Bucky. “You can’t stay closed off forever. There is a darkness inside you that won’t go away unless you let someone in, stop fighting the people who care about you.”

***

It’s mid-evening when Bucky picks up his phone and calls you. He’s been thinking all day, his mind refusing to stop running. He needs to do something to distract himself, but more importantly, he needs to see you. It’s been months since he’s used his car, it’s been parked in the building's garage gathering dust, but tonight he needs it. He pulls up outside of the bakery and you’re already waiting for him. Ever the gentleman, he gets out and helps you into the car and then you’re off.

“Gonna tell me where we’re going, or am I going to have to assume you’re kidnapping me?”

Bucky chuckles and looks at you, “No, doll, I’m not kidnapping you. But I’m not telling you where we’re going, you’ll see when we get there.”

You sigh dramatically, and then chuckle, leaning back in your seat. You drive in silence for a few minutes before your curiosity gets the better of you and you begin pestering Bucky with questions. “Are we going for food?”

“Maybe.”

“Mini-golf?”

“No.”

“Running away to Canada for maple syrup?”

This earns a laugh from Bucky, “No, doll. We’re almost there though.”

You’re in Greenpoint now, right down by the water, the moon replacing the sun. Bucky pulls into a parking lot filled with other cars, a big screen sitting at the front. “What do you think y/n?”

You’ve never been to a drive in before, but you think this is the best one ever. There’s food trucks lining the sides of the lot, picnic tables and lounge chairs set up in front, and waiters walking around taking orders. “I’ve never been to one of these before.”

Bucky looks at you weirdly and you laugh, “What? I grew up in an apartment in Manhattan and lived in a rundown town in Europe, drive-ins weren’t that popular for me.”

“There used to be one in my neighborhood that would play every Friday night. I’d sneak Rebecca out, meet up with my friend Steve, and we’d come buy these big things of popcorn and sit ourselves in the grass for hours. It was one of the only things we had growing up.”

You grab Bucky's hand and give him a small smile, “That must’ve been really nice. I wish I’d had something like that growing up. Closest I got was watching my parents fight over dinner like it was a reality t.v. show.”

The both of you laugh, hands still intertwined and a warm feeling falling over the both of you. “Well, I’d like to replace those memories with some better ones, if you want.”

“I’d like that a lot.”

It’s then that a man comes up to the window and Bucky turns to hand him the tickets, an order sheet getting passed back to him. You both check off what food you want, a couple of coffees, some popcorn and some candy, before handing it back to the man. “I hope you don’t mind what movie’s playing, Back to the Future Part II.”

“Who knew you were a sci-fi geek, Bucky.”

He rolls his eyes at you, “It was the only thing that I could still get tickets for. It was all last minute, I needed a distraction.”

“I get it. It’s been a long day for everyone.”

Sighing and nodding his head, Bucky reaches out and grabs your hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. A few minutes later your food arrives and the movie starts to play. The two of you sit and enjoy the movie, making small comments and laughing together, it was the perfect way to end both of your long days.

When the credits start to roll and other cars start pulling away, Bucky turns to you, noticing the hesitancy on your face, neither of you quite wanting the night to end. “Do you want to go get coffee? I’m sure we can find something still open.”

You nod your head and Bucky begins to pull out of the lot. You drive around for a little while, taking in the night scenery and enjoying the silence. Eventually you find a small cafe still open and head inside to order your coffees. After acquiring your drinks you head outside to walk around.

The fall air has begun to replace the warm summer, and nights have become cold. A small chill runs through you and you shiver, Bucky notices and takes off his jacket to place around your shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Can’t have you freezing to death on me.”

The two of you walk for what seems like hours, finding comfort in each other. You end up in a small park sitting on a bench, your head resting on Bucky’s shoulder and him with his arm wrapped around you. You turn your head to say something, only to find bucky already looking at you. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t name, and he reaches out to push a strand of hair behind your ear.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he leans in. A small brush of his lips against yours, so soft you can barely feel it, and it has your breath catching in your throat. You lean in again, this time with more urgency. You pull back only when you run out of breath, a small smile on your lips. “That was a nice way to end the evening.”

Bucky laughs, and it’s infectious. You’ve never fallen for someone so quickly, never felt so safe, but you can’t imagine not being with him. You sit there for a few more minutes, stealing quick kisses, before you decide it’s time to leave. Bucky drives you home and you spend a couple minutes kissing like teenagers in his car before you eventually get out of the car and head into your building. You don’t know what this is or where it’s going, but all you can think about as you get ready for bed is Bucky.

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction

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symphonic--chaos · 5 years

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Fic inspired by the Panic! at the Disco song ‘When the Day met the Night’

Also cross-posted here on AO3!

When the sun found the moon

She was drinking tea in a garden

Under the green umbrella trees

In the middle of summer

“May I sit here?“

The voice attached to the words was smooth and soft, a gentle breeze in the dead of a starry night. Alec saw the rings adorning tan fingers, wrapped around the saucer balancing a steaming cup of coffee filled to the brim, first. A black vest secured over a wine red shirt, both fitted very well, and lingering with him was the mixed scent of sandalwood with eucalyptus and …coconut? Alec felt like he was in a homey cottage at a beach, a place he rarely went. In fact, the last time he may have gone was when he was a child. He suddenly felt nostalgic. Continuing up and up the long figure, who must have been almost as tall as himself were he standing, he was surprised to see a warm smile greeting him, curious eyes lined in black and accented with gold and red eyeshadow.

"Uh, sure. Yeah, help yourself."

The man settled down across from him at the table, setting the drink down with with a book, brown and almost brittle looking book beside it. Maybe Alec’s eyes lingered too long on it out of his sheer curiousity, as the slim fingers turned it carefully in his direction in an offering.

"Would you like to see it? It’s Les Miserables, one of the originals.”

Alec looked up from the book to meet the strangers eyes, which were a striking mix of a brownish gold, which seemed to catch the sun and reflect it back on him. They seemed tired, but kind. There was a mischievous and playful glint hidden within them, one that made Alec wonder if this was some kind of setup by his sister or best friend, Jace, but yet… This didn’t seem like their kind of prank. Plus, this stranger seemed so warm all over, like he was made of the gold he wore in both makeup and jewelry - perhaps too warm and seemingly kind to do a prank like that.

A common misconception about snakes was that they could hypnotize their prey, much like a charmer could do to a snake. Most prey, however, either freeze out of fear or pure curiousity of the way the snake weaves to gauge its distance to the prey. In the same way, Alec felt frozen once their eyes met, and it was only when the bright flash of teeth were exposed in an amused smile that had to read his gaze away. Clearing his throat and taking a sip of his tea, the feeling he'd had was something that alarmed him, not in a sense of danger as he was used to, but out of the sudden attraction he held for someone he didn’t even know.

“Aren’t these hard to come across?” Alec asked finally as he picked up the book, gingerly looking over the spine and page edges, then opened it to look over the first few pages.

“I own an antique shop. Nothing is hard to come across when you have the right connections.”

Alec placed the book back down as carefully as he’d handled it, a movement to their left catching his attention momentarily enough for him to realize that there was plenty of open seats around them that could have been chosen, but yet …

When the moon found the sun

He looked like he was barely hanging on

But her eyes saved his life

In the middle of summer (summer)

Magnus had leaned his elbow lightly on the edge of the table to watch Alec look over the book, his defined jaw resting in his palm as he watched the black-haired beauty come to the realization that he had sat there with him on purpose. Was the offer of the book an excuse to study the strong features of the other man’s face? Absolutely. A true weakness of his was black hair and blue eyes, and while this particular fellow had green eyes, they were just as striking. Magnus shifted to lift his coffee cup, enjoy the scent of the chocolate raspberry (arabica, not robusta) wafting from it before he took a slow sip from it. So far so good, the handsome one hadn’t rejected his friendly advances yet, so maybe he could at least push for a name.

“I’m Magnus,” he said as he placed the cup down, extending a hand in greeting. He was pleasantly surprised when Alec took it and shook it, reveling in the bright smile that his new companion gave him.

“Alexander. Er, Alec. So, uh, you choose to sit with people over sitting alone often?”

“No, I prefer to sit alone, especially when the leaves make such a beautiful noise when the wind blows. But you’ve caught my eye here a couple times before, and today I was feeling particularly courageous and decided to come say hi.”

Alec looked surprised by that, and Magnus wondered if perhaps that had been too forward, but the goofy, almost shy smile that crossed his face said otherwise and Magnus couldn’t help but smile himself. While most would flirt back, this ‘Alec’ seemed to take it in appreciation, pride, which told Magnus that either the man was never flirted with, or he was the first person to do so -slowly- with him. That flirting would be held back just enough to be a hint, Magnus decided then, especially when he noticed the drawing on the notebook in front of Alec, the most detailed yet delicate drawing of a sleeping child at the table nearby. Above it, a small drawing of the fountain to their left, and on the bottom right corner, another detailed drawing of a flower from one of the bushes along the main street outside the cafe. The man was talented and he found himself wanting to learn more about him.

“These are beautiful, Alexander.”

“It’s…Thank you, I’m an artist.”

So he said, “Would it be all right

If we just sat and talked for a little while

If in exchange for your time

I give you this smile?”

Magnus had soon found that not only was he an artist of multiple art world medias, but that he also took up a tattoo gun as a means to show his creativity and talent. Magnus’s fingers played over the edge of the business card he’d been given by Alec, admiring the black and white abstract artwork that decorated the background and the bright but simple lettering giving out the artists information.

Alec Lightwood

Tattoo Artist

xxx-xxx-xxxx

The back seemed simple in comparison to the art on the front, a white marble design with only the name of the parlor in blue scrolling font across the middle:

The Shadow Institute

The telltale lurch of the metro signalled that they were close to his home, his thumb brushing over the front of the card before it was slipped into the pocket of his vest. People stepped up beside him to wait at the doors he stood in front of, the train coming to a stop as the announcer came cross the speakers.

Greenpoint Ave, doors open on the right.

So she said, “That’s OK

As long as you can make a promise

Not to break my little heart

Or leave me all alone in the summer.”

Ding ding

“Alexander! What a pleasant surprise!”

Alec balanced the drink tray carefully in one hand as his other gently shut the old wood door behind him, the smell of incense and the smallest hint of polish breathed in as he collected himself to make a first move. Eventually. Alec turned to Magnus, seated on a high stool with a small desk clock rested on the counter in front of him, realizing the polish smell came from the small white rag in his hand.

“I brought you coffee, since you brought me the food and coffee at the shop the other day."

The tray was placed on the counter and Magnus was quick to notice the intricate flower and skull designs drawn on his own, a sly smile crossing his face. Alec had seen the drawings he lingered on when looking through his portfolio, and even remembered his passing comment about enjoyment from beautiful things mixed with the macabre.

"I appreciate it, I was thinking about getting some in an hour, but you’ve saved me the trip. I hope you’ll be staying for a bit? Surely you didn’t come all the way out here only to bring me coffee."

Alec nodded in response, offering Magnus a smile as he took his own drink from the tray to sip from it. He’d yet to come to the shop, so he found himself unable to stop looking around at the various items on the wall, mainly artwork and sculptures, everything looking clean and well maintained.

"So do you work here alone? This is a lot of things to keep clean and tidy all the time, isn’t it?”

Alec’s steps took him around the store, opening various small boxes and looking at different appliances like sewing machines, record players, radios, everything such a different look and design than their current day counterparts. Magnus seemed to fit this category too, he looked young, but something about talking to him made Alec feel like he was talking to an old soul. It was refreshing and kept his interest and it certainly made him glad that Magnus had approached him at the shop.

“No, three of my friends also work here. I had mentioned wanting to open the shop and they were all interested in helping out, they’re all history buffs."

Magnus had finished polishing the brass on the clock and was now watching Alec, studying the way his face changed at certain objects that caught his attention. When Alec returned to the counter and looked at the photo on the wall behind him, he leaned over to inspect it closer, which had him nice and close to Magnus.

"That’s Catarina, Ragnor, and Dorothea. Cat, Dot, and Cabbage.”

“Cabbage?”

Magnus smiled as Alec looked at him, their faces less than a foot apart. He smelled like the mahogany and teakwood that made up a few of the clocks in the shop. It made Magnus wonder if Alec regularly chose woodsy scented colognes or if this was chosen to entice and attract- and either way, it was working. Almost distracted from the question he’d been asked, far too busy enjoying the somewhat fair skin on a jaw graced with what looked like two day stubble and wanting to run his fingers along it. Or his lips.

He was the full moon on a cloudless night and Magnus found himself wanting to worship him like the pagans worshipped her.

“Cabbage,” Magnus finally breathed out as his eyes rose to meet those expectantly looking at him. “Once we were at the farmers market and passing a truck. One small freak accident later, and a small sea of cabbages were falling out of the truck and onto him. He was okay, I was not.”

“You weren’t? Did they fall on you or…?" Alec looked alarmed by the story, the cup he'd been cradling placed on the counter.

"Oh, no. I just couldn’t breathe because I was laughing so hard at him being buried under cabbages. He hates them.”

Their laughter rang out throughout the shop, the soft chiming of the grandfather clock at the door mingling throughout it to let them know it was noon.

Well he was just hanging around

Then he fell in love

And he didn’t know how

But he couldn’t get out

Just hanging around

Then he fell in love

Crickets chirped all around the two figures sprawled on the large blanket, the grass in the field unkempt and scraggly, but holding the fresh scent of rain. The damp soaking into the blanket didn’t seem to bother the duo, Magnus’s attention held by the stars and full moon above them while Alec’s own was on their entwined hands. It had been a year since they met, 10 months since they’d admitted their attraction, 8 months since their professions of love and it hadn’t budged since then, only grown.

“Do you think we should paint the apartment neutral colors, or neutral with an accent wall?”

Alec looked up as he was questioned, a soft smile curling on his lips at the reminder that they would be moving in together at the end of the year. His arm shifted up to rest his head on as he looked at Magnus’s face, illuminated like the field by the glow of the moon above them, his fingers moving to stroke up Magnus’s arm.

“Whatever you think will look best. We could do both? We have opposite color preferences, but they look good together.”

“Blues…purples…black and white, gold accents? We can figure something out.” Magnus hummed and soon turned on his side to mimic how Alec was laying, though the arm not pinned lifted so his fingers could run through Alec’s hair.

“I’m glad you didn’t think I was some stalker creep for approaching you that day, you know.”

“I mean, I did a little…”

Alec had grinned with his lie, a fake yelp given as Magnus playfully growled and tugged the hair his fingers were running through. The taller man’s arms shifted then, grabbing Magnus and tugging him close as he rolled into his back, leaving Magnus to prop himself up on his elbows on either side of Alec’s head, their lips inches apart.

“I’m glad you came over. I’d seen you before, too. I’m pretty sure I have a drawing of the side of your face in my book, somewhere. I liked your profile.” Alec’s hands traveled slowly up the back of Magnus’s thighs, over his rear, and under the soft silk shirt Magnus had worn on their date.

“You’ll have to show me. Maybe I’ll draw your profile too, terribly. We can frame them and put them on opposite sides of the hallway at the new place.”

This earned a chuckle from Alec, who pressed a soft kiss to Magnus’s lips, which seemed to trigger the other man into over-reciprocating. Several kisses assaulted him, covering his cheeks, his nose, chin, forehead, jaw, before a final was placed to his neck and joined by a gentle bite.

“I’d like that. All…domestic.”

“I like you, Alexander.”

“And I love you, Magnus.”

In the middle of summer

All was golden in the sky

All was golden when the day met the night

#malec #fluff #song fic #my fics

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thefabfoodgirl · 4 years

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Where I’ve Been.

Note: I wrote this on March 3, before the world came to a screeching halt. Many of the things I wrote about- cooking for friends, figuring out my life, etc- have been completely altered or put on hold entirely until it’s safe to go outside and have a life again. I’ve been meaning to rewrite this whole post to give an update, but I don’t want to scratch this entire draft when it already fills in a lot of blanks. So, for the meantime, I’ll share this. With any luck I’ll have some another post soon.

Astoria, Greenpoint, Bloomington, Hell’s Kitchen, Midtown, Forest Hills, San Francisco, Oakland, Berkeley, Newport, Chicago, Los Angeles, Reseda, Long Beach.

These are all the places I’ve been since I last wrote on here.

To summarize as succinctly as possible, everything in my life sort of crumbled after my last post about cake and our current administration and trying to find joy when the world seems like it’s beyond repair. I won’t get into the details of my NYC work situation here, other than to say it was a nightmare and even though things are very tough (and financially tight) right now, I have no regrets about leaving. My housing situation was also absolutely terrible. I was lucky enough to find a room in an Astoria apartment with a gorgeous, large kitchen. Too bad the roommate situation was beyond toxic (for starters, I was overcharged on rent) and we had a serious mouse problem (I believe we caught twelve in eight months). It was a serious detriment to my health to not be able to cook, beyond throwing together the occasional sandwich. I wasn’t able to feed myself the food I needed to eat to gain strength and rest. I didn’t go hungry, but I still starved myself.

New York is notorious for having terrible apartments, and I knew before moving that I’d be giving up kitchen space and the ability to really cook the way I like to cook. I was willing to make that sacrifice. I thought I’d be able to more easily transition out of my publishing career in New York than in Los Angeles, I thought I’d be able to find my soulmate and start seriously dating again, I thought the pursuit of my lifelong dream of performing and writing comedy would be more important to me than cooking. And, truthfully, I thought I would need to step back from cooking and food, which I leaned into as my passion when I stopped doing improv, in order to give all of my energy and attention to my studies.

Instead, about a year after my last post, fifteen months into my time in New York, I realized that the only way I’d be able to be fully successful pursuing my dreams and making new friends was by being the happiest version of myself. And for right now, because I still can’t afford therapy, I need to be able to cook to be happy and to feel like myself. Knowing that I wouldn’t be able to cook the way I want to in NYC, I finally decided to give LA a try.

So here’s the deal. When shit blew up at work, I finally started getting back to performing. Originally I had planned to start doing some standup in New York, but fell back into improv after stopping my classes ten years ago. It felt right. I had forgotten that feeling I got from being onstage, and putting together a story in real time, and clowning with new friends who bring out the strangest and best parts of you. I’ve always loved improv and I’m so, so happy to be back onstage goofing around again. Which is why I am not back in the Bay Area again, despite loving it desperately and going back to visit often. There’s some improv and performing around the Bay Area, but there’s just so much more in LA.

Truthfully, the wise decision would be to move back to Chicago, my home. I love Chicago. I was back to visit a few months back for some freelance work, and it was divine. It would make sense, too- affordable apartments, excellent public transit, endless high quality theater and improv and music. I would kill to be able to take classes at iO and get back to where it all started for me at Second City. I would love to audition and study at Steppenwolf. But I’ve already spent the majority of my life in Chicago. (Also my allergies are worse there than any other city I’ve been in, and I’d rather not deal with the cold.) And, if I’m being completely honest with myself, I deserve some sunshine. I deserve to let myself enjoy some sunshine, and do the things that make me happy, even if it’s not the wisest thing to do.

So here I am, writing this from my friend’s patio in Reseda, plotting out what all I’ll need for my room in Central LA once the rest of my things get here from New York.

There were still some food adventures in New York for me, though. For two months, I got to live in New York with one of my closest friends and oldest foodie friends, and we made absurd grilled cheeses with walnut dijon mustard and good bread and apple and scraps of some of the finest cheeses you can find at Essex Market. We made pasta from scratch, and attempted a two-ingredient version of a tomato butter sauce. (It’s basically just tomato butter, and I love it.) I made an impromptu osso bucco at some point in the Astoria apartment, before things really devolved and I was unable to feel welcome or safe there. Ventures out with friends saved me. Negronis at Dante’s and pasta at Epistrophy and lobster rolls at Lobster Joint made me feel safe. Bay Area friends would treat me when they visited- small yet insanely flavorful plates at Buvette, massive feasts at Gelso and Grand. Dim sum in Chinatown, on an adventurous museum day. Godiva ice cream when the office job was too much. Expensive snacks at the Bryant Park winter festival after everything blew up at work. Good pierogis and latkes and plum sauces on Manhattan Ave. Frankel’s for my favorite bagels in the whole world, and for latkes and a reuben when I just needed a hug. Peter Pan donuts when I just needed some sweetness. Milk Bar, for cookies and truffles and ice cream, even after a jarring first experience. Veselka for late night Ukrainian after one too many absinthe cocktails during my one night out a month.

I love dining out. But I can rarely afford it, especially when in New York. And I miss cooking. I still want to learn how to make my own pierogis. I want to make my own pasta from scratch again. And I want to be able to share my food with my friends without all of us having to save up. Taking care of each other and feeding each other should not be a special occasion; it should be a daily and permanent part of our lives.

Coming back to California has helped, although I still need to be more settled in my new home and my work before I can really reset my diet. The produce out here is just better, period. My love for tomatoes has yet to stop growing, and I crave dark, leafy cruciferous veggies all the time. I feel good when I eat out here (as long as I’m not eating junk).

I also know that, in due time, I will be back to feeding all of my friends again. Taking care of them. Making grilled cheese sandwiches for them. Sending them home with spicy chicken stock I made after hoarding too many chicken carcasses in the freezer. Making coffee cake in the morning for whoever has a slumber party with me. It’ll be a minute until I’m back there, since I’m starting from scratch again, both financially and, in a way, professionally. This kind of care and rebuilding takes time, and patience. I am doing my best to be patient, because even though I am panicking about my financial situation, I know that everything will work out exactly how it needs to. It’s not just about believing in the universe. It’s about remembering how to believe in myself.

I’ve got some food essays and stories and articles still deep inside of me, somewhere. When they’re ready to come out, I’ll share them with you. Maybe here, maybe some other sites. We’ll see what happens. All I know is that I need to follow my gut and listen to my instincts, and do what is best for me right now.

With any luck, I’ll have some more writing for you before another year goes by.

Only good things,

The Fab Food Girl

#thefabfoodgirl #food writing #personal essay #bicoastal #vagabond #new york #los angeles

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foodreceipe · 6 years

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Young Food Entrepreneurs Make Their Future by Hand

By JULIA MOSKINJUNE 1, 2010

Fabiana Lee’s spicy beef empanadas are traditional Argentine style. Of Korean heritage, she grew up in Buenos Aires

THEY carry home-grown radishes and red-cooked pork. They transport dozens of empanadas, juggling sheet pans on the G train. They pack boxes of butterscotch cupcakes, Sichuan-spiced beef jerky and grapefruit marmalade. They haul boiled peanuts, ice-grinding machines, sandwich presses and at least one toaster oven painted hot pink.

One Saturday morning each month, the vendors of the Greenpoint Food Market converge on the Church of the Messiah in Brooklyn.

“This is my investment in the future right now,” said Fabiana Lee, 26, an interior designer who lost her job in 2009. She has been selling at the Greenpoint market since its inception in October. After experimenting with cookies (too much competition), she has pared her offerings down to two: gorgeously browned empanadas and irresistibly twee “cake pops,” golf-ball-size rounds of cake perched on lollipop sticks. At the moment, they are her main source of income.

Young, college-educated, Internet-savvy, unemployed and hoping to find a place in the food world outside the traditional route, she is typical of the city’s dozens of new food entrepreneurs. As the next generation of cooks comes of age, it seems that many might bypass restaurant kitchens altogether. Instead, they see themselves driving trucks full of artisanal cheese around the country, founding organic breweries, bartering vegan pâtés for grass-fed local beef, or (most often) making it big in baking as the next Magnolia Bakery.

Joann Kim, 26, who organizes the market, cited the intersection of the economic downturn and the rise of the local artisanal food movement as reasons for the recent flowering of small culinary start-ups.

https://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/02/dining/02vendors.html

#Greenpoint Food Market

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horreurscopes · 6 years

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me: wow why am i so fucking tired

me: commuted an hour to a therapy consultation >had to retell my entire life story to a stranger >realized the chelsea market was a mile away so walked there >stopped for a slice of pizza along the way and had a random debate with the white man owner who was randomly like “if you’re a working man you’re poor; if you have people working for you then you’re rich” to me, a mexican, while his mexican staff worked their asses off >walked around chelsea market. i got tiny donuts >looked for a pet shop to buy cat food and walked to the two that were in a mile radius but neither of them carried the One and ONLY brand that my dumbfuck cat will eat. however i did get to pet some tiny puppies so it was 100% worth it >got some nailpolish at fancy wallgreens with an unusually long non-working escalator and the employee must’ve been bored af cause she wouldn’t stop talking to me while i was trying to decide on a color, goddamnit >commuted an hour to a queer bookshop in greenpoint that i wanted to check out. got lost for two stops had to commit fare thievery because i am Not paying twice >commuted 30 mins to target >got cat food and necessities >made a longass line at the starbucks cause i wanted free water but they DID NOT GIVE OUT FREE WATER ): >convinced myself i am too broke to uber back home so i walked three long blocks to the bus stop carrying grocery bags and the busline is always ridiculously full so i was standing up all the way back >also it’s 93 degrees out today >anyway *crowdsurfs*

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halsteadproperty · 6 years

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Where to Find the Best Latkes in New York City

With Hanukkah in full swing, latkes are on our minds – not that we have anything against enjoying delicious potato pancakes year-round. Here are some of our favorite spots in New York City to get our latke fix:

Veselka East Village

The beloved Ukrainian spot in the East Village has been around for six decades, and is known for its hearty, unpretentious menu and the fact that it never closes. That means that next time you’re craving latkes at 2 a.m., you should go to Veselka. They’re served crispy and golden brown with sour cream and applesauce, whenever you want them.

2nd Ave Deli Midtown East & UES

2nd Ave Deli claims to be like “your bubbie’s, but better.” Whether that’s true or not, the kosher institution’s latkes are just about as good as you can get in this city. Both the Midtown East and Upper East Side locations serve latkes with applesauce, and unlike most other restaurants with potato pancakes on the menu, the portion size is huge.

Barney Greengrass UWS

You won’t see latkes on the menu here, and that’s because they’re only served on the weekends (and every day during Hanukkah, thankfully). For 110 years and across three generations, Barney Greengrass has been serving up specialty smoked fish and other goods including latkes, which are made from scratch and fried to order.

Russ & Daughters LES

In 1907, a Polish immigrant started selling schmaltz herring out of a barrel on the Lower East Side. Seven years later he upgraded to a pushcart, then a horse and wagon, and finally, a store. He enlisted the help of his daughters, who later became full partners. Today, Russ & Daughters continues this original operation, along with two cafés and a bakery. Head to the LES café for some latkes, which come in two delicious variations: traditional or a gourmet option with salmon roe and crème fraîche.

Christina’s Greenpoint

One of the newer eateries on this list, Christina’s has been around for 17 years. The modest Polish restaurant in Greenpoint serves traditional latkes with sour cream or applesauce, as well as ones with mushroom sauce. For a heartier meal, try the beef goulash with latkes. The Hungarian-influenced dish is a huge, crispy potato pancake filled with stewed beef. You’ll leave more than satisfied.

Katz’s Delicatessen LES

We can’t make a list of great Jewish food in New York without including Katz’s. A Lower East Side staple for well over a hundred years, the famous deli attracts locals as well as visitors from around the world. While the latkes here are worth having any time of the year, this year for Hanukkah, you can get some for free. On each night of the Festival of Lights, the first 100 people who line up at Katz’s new outpost at Dekalb Market Hall in Brooklyn will be treated to free potato pancakes.

Liebman’s Deli Riverdale

If you want to find amazing latkes in the Bronx, this is your spot. Liebman’s is a family-owned kosher landmark that opened its doors when there were about 100 Jewish delis in the borough. Today, it’s one of only two that remain. Not much has changed here in six decades, which you can see as soon as you step inside. That includes the recipe for their beloved latkes, which are giant in size and delicious in taste.

Latke Festival Prospect Heights

If you love latkes (which we assume you do), the 10th annual Latke Festival taking place at the Brooklyn Museum on December 3 is your mecca. With dozens of restaurants participating, you’ll be able to eat your way through some of the most innovative and delicious potato pancakes this city has to offer. Plus, all proceeds benefit The Sylvia Center, a nonprofit dedicated to teaching healthy eating habits to children and families.

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toogoodtogobk · 1 year

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A Angelina Paris (Midtown West) Associated Market (Park Slope) Aunt Butchie's Cafe (Park Slope)

B Bagel Factory (South Slope) Barachou (multiple locations) Beky's Bakery (Flushing) Besito (Park Slope) Bklyn Larder (Prospect Heights) Black Iris (Fort Greene) Boishakhi Restaurant (Astoria) Bonbon Lakay (Park Slope) Bona Bona (Financial District) Breakhouse Cafe (Gowanus) Brew Memories (Park Slope) Brooklyn Baklava (Boerum Hill) Brooklyn Bread (Park Slope) Brooklyn Cupcake (Williamsburg) Brooklyn DOP (Park Slope) Brooklyn French Bakers (Columbia Street Waterfront District) Bushwick Grind Cafe (Bushwick)

C Casita of Brooklyn (Park Slope) Cheese Plate (Park Slope) Clementine Bakery (Clinton Hill) Connecticut Muffin (Park Slope) Cook Eatery (Midtown West) Cookie Crumz (Astoria) CookUnity (Bed-Stuy)

D Da Nonna Rosa (Park Slope) Doughnut Plant (Prospect Heights) Duo+ (Cobble Hill)

E Eastern District (Park Slope) Electric Beets (Park Slope) Empire Express (Park Slope)

F Fare and Folk (Cobble Hill) Fjord Fish Market (Park Slope) Fondita (South Slope) Foodtown (Park Slope)

G Gazala's (Upper West Side) Georgian Deli and Bakery (Bensonhurst) Goodiez (Park Slope) Gorillas (Park Slope) Gramercy Bagels (Gramercy)

H Haagen-Dazs (Park Slope) Homemade Taqueria (Park Slope)

I Island Foodie (Long Island City)

J Joe’s Pizzeria (Windsor Terrace) Juice Press (Park Slope) Just Salad (multiple locations)

K Kevin’s Flavor (Bed-Stuy) Kimchee Market (Greenpoint) Kotti Berliner Döner Kebab (Sunset Park)

L L'arte Della Pizza (Park Slope) La Bagel Delight (Park Slope) La Parada Express (Gowanus) La Trafila (Gowanus) La Villa (Park Slope) Ladurée (Soho) Lassen & Hennigs (Dumbo) Le Pain Quotidien (Midtown East)

M Maman (multiple locations) Mano's Pizzeria (Ridgewood) Margon (Midtown) Mighty Quinn's BBQ (Gowanus) Minitalia Pizzeria (Ridgewood) Mosaic Foods Market (Prospect Heights) Murray's Cheese (Grand Central)

N Naidre’s (Park Slope) Natural Blend (Prospect Heights) Nili (Carroll Gardens) Numero 28 Pizzeria (Park Slope)

O Omonia Cafe (Astoria) One Girl Cookies (Sunset Park)

P Poke Mahi & Fresca Bowl (Park Slope) Poppy's (Cobble Hill)

R Roots Cafe (South Slope) Rooster Boy (Prospect Lefferts Gardens) Runner & Stone (Gowanus)

S Sac’s Place (Astoria) Simply Greek (Park Slope) Sofia Gourmet (Ridgewood) Sundae Fundae (Park Slope)

T Taim (Park Slope) Tavola Italian Market (Cobble Hill) The Islands (Prospect Heights) The Sweets Boutique (Carroll Gardens) Two Boots (Park Slope)

V Varenyk House (Ridgewood) Villager (Crown Heights)

W Wanisa Home Kitchen (Cobble Hill) Winemak’Her Bar (Park Slope)

Y Yardsale Cafe (South Slope) Yaya’s Bakery (Astoria)

Z Zatar Cafe (Park Slope)

#too good to go

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putthison · 7 years

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Hertling Trouser Factory Looking to Close

Well, this post has aged poorly. Just two months after we published a story on how Hertling is still going strong, it looks like they may close their factory in Greenpoint, Brooklyn within the next few weeks.

Hertling, for those unfamiliar, is a legendary trouser manufacturer. Having started in 1925, they’ve been doing private label work for some of the clothing industry’s best names – Paul Stuart, Orvis, Sid Mashburn, and Billy Reid, along with many others. For value-minded shoppers, nothing really beats a pair of Hertling-made pants. J. Crew’s wool trousers run for $225, but they’re made in China and often constructed from mediocre materials. Hertling’s pants are made in New York City, of exceptional quality, and come in a variety of fits. Traditional clothiers such as Ben Silver offer them in fuller cuts; niche retailers such as Epaulet and Dapper Classics sell them in slimmer, more contemporary styles. For comparison, the next most popular option is Rota’s Italian-made trousers, but those cost $400 per pair – nearly twice the price of Hertling’s.

Much of the company’s success can be credited to Julius Hertling, who’s affectionately known to many in the trade as Julie. He’s been managing the family business since 1946, when he returned home after having served in WWII (he was in the US Army). His father, Morris, started the business.

Julie fought for his company during a time of tremendous change in the US. Americans now import most of their wardrobe from overseas. Fast fashion retailers have streamlined the production process and driven down costs, making it possible to buy pants for as little as $20. And it’s never been easier to comparison shop. Just open an Internet tab and you can find a million options for flat front chinos or simple button-ups. It’s been hard for domestic producers to compete in that environment – even top-end brands have shifted their production overseas in order to be price competitive – but the Hertling company has miraculously survived and even thrived for almost a hundred years.

Towards the end of Julie’s life, however, the factory started struggling. And when the new investors took over in the winter of 2016 – about a year before Julie’s death – they hoped to revive the plant and expand into direct sales. It’s hard to say for certain what’s happened (Hertling is, after all, still a private company), but the new owners have faced some important headwinds.

For one, Julie and his landlord were personal friends, so Julie was able to secure a particularly good lease for the factory. When he passed away, the landlord raised the rent. It’s still well below the neigborhood’s market rate, but about 25% higher than what Hertling was paying under Julie’s tenure.

Second, New York raised its minimum wage from $11/ hour to $13/ hour in 2017, and has plans to raise it again to $15/ hour by the end of this year. Justin Christensen, one of Hertling’s new owners, tells me this has cost the company an additional $100,000 a year in labor.

Third, Hertling may have been buoyed for a while by the revival of Americana and heritage-styled clothing. Back in the early aughts, consumers cared more about where their clothes were made. And as those fashion trends have waned, so has consumer loyalty. People are savvier now about comparison-shopping and they use the internet to find the best deals possible.

In some ways, this may be connected to the broader story about how the middle of the fashion market is collapsing – those brands that sit somewhere between the uber-luxury labels sold at Mr. Porter and fast fashion retailers such as Zara. As mid-tier brands struggle to survive, so have the factories that support them. Bill’s Khakis, who used to be admired for their $150 American made chinos, shut down their domestic production not too long ago and the company has been since restructured by a private equity firm. International Textile Group recently closed their Cone Mills White Oak plant in North Carolina, as they found the denim production there couldn’t be sustained in the face of increasing imports. And some of Hertling’s partners, such as Haberdash in Chicago, are no longer in business.

Lastly, the end of Hertling may just be a story about poor management. Justin Christensen admits that he’s learned a lot about business in the last eighteen months, particularly with regard to things such as managing cash flow and keeping a factory as lean as possible. In the next few weeks, he and his investors will be deciding on the factory’s future. They may close the Brooklyn factory; they may not. They may just turn the Hertling name into a clothing line, with the production done elsewhere. If that’s the case, the Greenpoint factory will close, but the Hertling name will remain as a ready-to-wear label.

Christensen tells me he’s still hopeful about American manufacturing, but only on the higher-end of the market. “I don’t think this is about the death of American manufacturing,” he says. “I’m confident you can still have US clothing factories, but they have to produce for the luxury-end of the market, where you see Italian factories currently operating. $200 for a pair of US-made trousers simply isn’t sustainable. The real price has to be closer to $300 to $350. That gives you enough room to pay for costs – labor, materials, and the bare basics of doing business – as well as give your retail partners some margins so they can eat.”

I talked to Epaulet and our sponsor Dapper Classics about what they plan to do if Hertling actually closes. Epaulet has already made plans to switch their trouser production to Southwick; Dapper Classics says they’re still waiting to see what happens. I also asked Mike Kuhle, co-founder of Epaulet, what he remembers most from his long-time friendship with Julie himself.

“Our weekly lunches at Peter Luger. It’s a Brooklyn steakhouse that sits right under Williamsburg Bridge. Julie and I went there every Tuesday to have lunch. It’s super expensive, very traditional, and extremely popular. But when Julie walked into the place, it was always like that scene from Goodfellas – everyone made way for him. It was always like ‘Hello, Mr. Hertling! Right this way, Mr. Hertling!’ The man had been going there every Tuesday for lunch for almost forty years. He had the same waiter; he always ordered the same food. We’d eat a heavy meal together, have some drinks, and talk. Sometimes he told old war stories, but he mostly loved talking about pants – Julie could talk to you forever about pants. He loved his work. He was an old-school garmento.”

Maybe one upside to this whole story: had Christensen and his investors not taken over the factory, Hertling as a company would have likely closed with Julie’s passing. At the time, no Hertling family members or outside parties were interested in taking it over. Everyone I talked to for this story agreed that, at least, the employees have been able to get another eighteen months of wages – and someone made a go at trying to keep a piece of American manufacturing still going.

In the meantime, readers can buy Hertling’s new old-stock through LuxeSwap. There are about 750 pants on sale right now, some for as little as $50 to $75, in a mix of about a hundred styles (many were originally produced as samples for tradeshows and come in old cuts). We’re told everything is first-quality, but all sales are final. There are some posts about it on Reddit and Ask Andy About Clothes.

#Hertling #Current Events #Epaulet #Dapper Classics #Politics

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goodsmith · 3 years

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Greenpoint Terminal Market is open once again. In Brooklyn, New York

Enjoy music and food, while you explore various Vendors. FSSG children's books & Simora Loves Candles are sharing a booth. Join us for our first public event.

Freestylecaters2you.com

https://simoraslovecandles.com/ #mindstyle #supportblackownedbusinesses

#enjoythemoment #funfact #booksbooksbooks #candles #lovelife #goodvibes

#smallbusiness #reading #support #fun #music #food #NYC

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wineanddinosaur · 3 years

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Next Round: Leaving NYC for a Small Town With Restaurateur Adam Dunn

On this episode of the “Next Round” host Adam Teeter chats with Adam Dunn, owner of The Pheasant on Cape Cod, Mass. The Pheasant is a coastal farm-to-table restaurant set inside a historic farmhouse. Dunn details his life before he became a restaurateur — working in the music industry and then for Greenpoint Fish and Lobster. The latter project served as the catalyst for his eventual relocation to Cape Cod.

Dunn explains how relocating to a small town from a big city certainly has its pros and cons. Tune in to hear Dunn explain how he continues to navigate that journey — especially during the ongoing pandemic.

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Adam Teeter: From Brooklyn, New York, I’m Adam Teeter, and this is a “VinePair Podcast” conversation. We’re bringing you these conversations as additions to our regular special podcast to give you a better idea of what’s going on in the industry during the Covid-19 crisis. This week I’m really lucky to be talking to Adam Dunn, owner of The Pheasant in Cape Cod. Adam, what’s going on?

Adam Dunn: Not much. Enjoying a beautifully sunny day here on Cape Cod.

A: Lovely. I don’t think I’ve interviewed another Adam before, so this is going to be fun. Tell me about The Pheasant and your background, because I know you as the owner of a really amazing restaurant in Brooklyn. Can you take me through your career so we can get a chance to know who you are and then a little bit about The Pheasant?

D: Sure. My background was in the music industry and entertainment originally. Interestingly enough, I was in college and was booking bands, which I knew that’s all I wanted to do. I moved to New York, started working at a bunch of music venues and live music. I thought that was going to be my career for a very long time. Late mornings, late nights. Go to work at 1 p.m., get home at 5 a.m. That kind of thing.

A: You were at Brooklyn Bowl, right?

D: Yeah, I did Pianos out of college. Then, I moved from there to Brooklyn Bowl for a number of years. On the side, I got really interested in food and where my food comes from, sustainability. I didn’t eat meat for 13 years in high school and college. Then, I started playing sports in college, and I was eating a ton of seafood. I knew nothing about where my fish comes from. It seems hypocritical to be very concerned about meat and know nothing about seafood, so I started learning about seafood. Growing up, I came to Cape Cod every summer as a kid and was used to being around seafood. I was living in Williamsburg at the time and there was nowhere to get local seafood or any quality seafood for that matter. This is before Whole Foods and before everything else came in. I had to go to Chelsea Market to get high-quality fish. That is a three-hour round trip, at least. This is crazy. Williamsburg being the food mecca as it is or was, it just seemed crazy. There was a local Italian market that was OK, but you go in, ask the guy where’s that piece of fish from? He’d look at a tag and say it’s imported. That’s all he could tell you. I knew there’s got to be something more to this, somebody’s got to do something. I had this idea that there should be a place where you can get local fish and know where it comes from, and there’s a little counter of chowder or lobster rolls, fish sandwiches. I knew nothing about fish or where to get fish or how to source it. In my music industry days, I had worked with a guy who had mentioned at some point during our conversations that his family had a seafood business. Fast-forward many years later, I know one person who mentioned knowing something about seafood. I bumped into him at a holiday party and said, “we got to talk. I got this crazy idea.” He said his family was one of the largest and oldest seafood wholesalers in New England. They’ve been around for about 130 years in Boston wholesale. This wasn’t a little seafood thing, this is a big-time major seafood distributor. He said you have a concept, I can source us probably the best fish in New York, if not the best fish in the country. We said, “let’s see where this goes.” We started on the side. We’d rent out the backyard of a bar out in Greenpoint or Williamsburg. We throw a party and promote it like a concert. We make fliers, make Instagram accounts, and Facebook events. We branded the hell out of it. Got a friend who designed a really fantastic brand and sold merchandise, hats, shirts, oyster knives, koozies, you name it. We started building some traction, and it started taking over. It climaxed when we took out one of those New York Harbor boats, and a buddy of mine ran concerts on those boats and gave me a deal on a boat. We put 300 people on the boat, open bar, lobster rolls, oysters, ceviche, and we had a DJ named Jonathan Toubin.

A: I love Jonathan Toubin. He did a party of mine because I was in the music industry, too. I think we crossed paths.

D: Oh man, there’s so much here especially to make connections with you.

A: Yeah, I used to do A&R for J Dub.

D: OK, so we definitely crossed.

A: We used to throw parties at Brooklyn Bowl. I think you booked one of my bands there.

D: It gets so fuzzy between the two.

A: It’s crazy — I’m going on a tangent here — but were you there at the same time? Now I just blanked on his name, but the guy who was involved in signing MGMT and stuff.

D: Oh, Will Griggs.

A: Yes, Will Griggs! Were you there at the same time?

D: Yeah, I took over when Will left. Will was there the first two years, I think, of Brooklyn Bowl. Then, he was focusing on his label and various other projects. Then, a buyer and I were involved in Brooklyn Bowl as a consulting partner for booking. I met those guys early on in my Pianos days. I started hanging out with them. When the time came, they said hey, you’ve got this 800 to 1,000-capacity venue in Brooklyn, and he’s a booker. I’ll do that.

A: That’s amazing.

D: Yeah, Jonathan Toubin is where we left off. Jonathan Toubin actually DJ’d my wedding here on Cape Cod. He was our first ask and he said “yeah, I’ll come up and do it.”

A: Very cool. You’re trying to source great seafood, throwing parties.

D: We were throwing parties and we said to each other, “let’s see how far this goes.” At some point, we expected to stop. There’s going to be some barrier and we can’t go any further and let’s see where that is. It never stopped. We just kept going. We kept finding ways around these barriers and managed to put some investors together because we had built a brand. We wanted to show that we had some traction and engagement. We managed to get some friends, family, private investors, random folks that we had come across that were interested. Before we opened up on June 30, 2018, we opened up this little brick-and-mortar fish market counter and raw bar. We did that for a number of years, expanding into wholesale. My partner Vinnie Milburn was the business brains behind the whole thing and grew and built this wholesale machine. That’s really the direction the business started going, it was wholesale. We realized we weren’t going to add more restaurant locations. The amount of debt you incur to open a new brick and mortar in New York was one step forward, two steps back. We were like, “How are we ever going to get out of this?” We decided wholesale was a lot easier to scale. You have to deal with customers and there are some benefits for certain types of personalities. We started going in that direction. Then I hit a point where I really like the customer-facing side. I really like creating experiences. I’m a promoter at heart. Back when I was booking bands, I was trying to find obscure bands and introduce them to people and grow them. I love that feeling of showing somebody something they haven’t seen before and then people are like “holy shit, that was awesome. Where do I get more?” That’s my drive. The wholesale thing, as awesome as it was to be knee-deep in razor clams at 4 in the morning and lugging 80-pound halibut around before dawn in New York City, it was exciting, but it was brutal hours and it wasn’t where my passion was. I was looking for opportunities and my wife and I were looking to start a family. We’re trying to forecast our life in New York. Then, we thought there might be an opportunity somewhere else. We fantasize, like everybody does who lives in New York, about where you would go. Upstate New York, Vermont, Maine. Then, I realized my family has a house in Cape Cod in South Dennis. I knew the Cape really well. I came here for 25 years with my family, so we asked, “What about Cape Cod?” What’s going on up there? We were looking for businesses for sale. We saw that this famous restaurant called the Red Pheasant Inn was for sale. My parents rented a house every summer from across the street from this restaurant.

A: Oh, wow.

D: I don’t know, for 11 or 12 years. That was where every summer my parents and friends of theirs would go out for an anniversary or a birthday and would leave the kids at home. It was a fancy restaurant on Cape Cod, and it had a massive wine list, white tablecloths. However, it was stuffy and dated, and we never wanted to go to the Red Pheasant. I don’t think they let people in under the age of 16.

A: It was supposed to be an adult place.

D: Exactly. We saw it was for sale and was like, “Oh, that’s interesting.” I think we had just come the summer before and we had walked into the restaurant to have a nice adult dinner. We couldn’t stop thinking about how amazing the floors were. It’s a 250-year-old farmhouse, original wood floors, original post-and-beam. It oozes New England farmhouse vibes. It’s got two working fireplaces. It’s just years, years, and years of firewood into the walls. It’s stunning. It’s a dream place. I remember saying, “Somebody could really do a number with this place.” Anyway, it came up for sale and we couldn’t believe that place was for sale. We kept reading and it said there’s a four-bedroom house attached to it. It’s on an acre and a half. Oh, it’s on a lake. It’s a 10-minute walk to the beach. I know the neighborhood. My parents have a house in the area. This seems like a no-brainer. Let me tell you, money goes a lot further when you leave New York City, as I think everybody knows. It depends on where you go, but we got a lot of bang for the buck.

A: Before we kick it off more, ’cause then I want I to hear about the process — that’s how you wound up on this podcast, right? You actually listened to our Monday podcast episode about restaurateurs and beverage specialists moving to smaller towns, smaller cities to open places, and you reached out. Turns out we had these crazy mutual connections and you got to come on the podcast and talk about it. This is something people are doing. I’d love to use you as a way to show other people who might be thinking about it, what you did, and how you figured it out. The one thing that I wanted to ask you is, did you know other people who had already done this? Who had been restaurateurs in New York City? For example, Prairie Whale in the Berkshires, the way you describe your spot sounds very similar to what it’s like in a very old home. Did you go check out places like that? Did you know people who had done this? What was the thought? What happened when you decided to do this. Did you start doing research, or what research did you do?

D: We probably didn’t do as much research as we should have. We found the building, the property, and the deal was right. We could live there. We could sustain. I think the easiest thing when people do these moves is finding a business and a residence together. It might not sound awesome to be living where you work, but it makes it affordable. If we were just buying the restaurant, it would have been too expensive to buy the restaurant. If you were just buying a house, it would have been too expensive to just buy the house. When you get them together, it’s an incredible deal. The business fee pays for the house, and it’s a self-sustaining system. You can keep the doors open and cover the mortgage or the lease. I think the best thing is to buy in these types of situations because you’re going all-in on this. I’ve seen in other places, what’s worked typically is when you can find that work-live situation. Otherwise, you’d be buying a restaurant and you need quite a bit of cash to do that. Then, you’ve got to figure out where you’re going to live. Sure, sometimes where you are, you can find cheaper housing. What’s tough about the Cape is the housing market is really expensive here. The Cape is such a weird place, because it’s so seasonal and in the off-season has a somewhat rural vibe to it. It’s really quiet and deserted, but the housing prices are crazy because they get such huge money in the summer. The Cape is actually very difficult, unless you’re coming from gobs of money — and good for you if you can make that happen. You need to find this live-work situation. It’s prohibitively expensive to find a business to buy and then to find a house to buy. That’s been the hardest thing. Affordable housing is such a big issue on the Cape because of the weird dynamics of seasonal vacation waterfront homes. Prairie Whale is in Great Barrington, which was definitely an inspiration for sure. I read articles. I read everything I could about people who have done this stuff. None of it accurately describes what it’s going to be like but it’s exciting. It’s romantic. We were reading about Mark. He was involved in Marlow and Sons in the Andrew Tarlow empire in the beginning. Then, they split and went up there to start a farm and then the restaurant. I was like, “This all sounds incredible.” I’m sure the housing market there is not too dissimilar, but I’m sure there are also pockets of much more affordable housing. There’s just a larger space because the Cape is such a limited, narrow strip of land. There’s only one way on, one way off. There isn’t that much inventory. It’s hard to live 40 minutes away.

A: It makes me think of someone who would think about doing this in the Hamptons.

D: Yeah, it’s not nearly that same over-the-top wealth in the same way that the Hamptons can be. However, it definitely has that same one long road all the way to the end. A two-lane highway kind of thing.

A: You’re not going to live 30 minutes away, 40 minutes away. If you need to get to the restaurant, then all of a sudden there’s a traffic jam, basically.

D: Yeah, that’s an issue but there just aren’t that many houses because it’s not 30 miles in every direction. It’s 30 miles north or south, east or west. It just limits how much housing is available in the immediate area.

A: OK, so you buy the place. What was going through your head? Did you know what you wanted to do? Were you going to buy it and take it over? What were the people selling it expecting to happen?

D: The people who sold it to us had owned the restaurant for 40 years. The father ran it for a number of years and the son took over and ran it. It was an institution, a real icon on Cape Cod. I told my parents we’re buying it, they were like “The Red Pheasant?” They couldn’t fathom that we were buying this iconic restaurant. It means a lot to people, a lot of anniversaries, birthdays, special occasions. It was a special-occasion place where people dressed up. It was a nice dinner out in this area, Cape Cod. They were looking to hand this off. I think they were just grateful to get rid of it. Honestly, we felt that toward the end of the business we saw they were 70, and just getting tired. The customers ran the place at the end. They had a regular clientele. I remember I told the chef-owner that we’re going to put this awesome gourmet burger on the menu. He’s like, “Oh, I always wanted to put a burger on the menu and couldn’t.” I never understood what he meant. “Why couldn’t you put a burger on the menu? It’s your restaurant.” Not to get ahead of myself in this conversation, but we had somebody come in when we had first opened and this older gentleman who was wearing a jacket pulled me aside to say, “Are you the owner?” I said “Yeah.” He said, “This is a nice restaurant, you can’t have hamburgers on the menu.” I had this whiplash, this aha moment. I realized that these customers had been with him for 30, 40 years and they had everything dialed in exactly how they wanted it.

A: He wasn’t going to mess with them because they were super-loyal customers.

D: Correct. There are some people that he had met. Oh, man, there’s so much here. Every December, all the towns around the holidays do holiday strolls and people walk through town, restaurants give things away, stores give things away. It’s a meet-and-greet kind of thing. Once we knew we were likely to buy it, we made an offer and it was accepted. I came up to do the stroll because he wanted to introduce me to all the regulars. He wanted to introduce me as the new owner so I came up and met all these people and everybody wanted to meet me and were sizing me up. I remember some people were just terrible. He was like, “Yeah, you don’t want those people. I’m so glad to be getting rid of them.” Oh, thanks, appreciate that. They expected to hand off the restaurant to let us run it. They told us to keep some of the menu items, some of the staples on the menu. Then, maybe you can slowly change them out. Frankly, we had no interest in the old menu. The old menu hadn’t changed in 30, 40 years. It was dated, like French-American, but slowly getting further away from being French. It became a weird menu of wasabi mashed potatoes next to seared duck and just got all over the place.

A: Right. Trendy food items here from the ’90s, mixed with trendy food items here from the ’80s. I know what you’re talking about.

D: We were looking to get rid of that entirely. He said to just be careful. We had learned that two of their items made up about 40 or 50 percent of the menu sales. There was a sole meunière and a seared duck. That was it. That’s all they sold. You can’t run a business like this. If that’s your business, then just open a shack and just sell one item. Don’t open a full-service restaurant with a full menu if you’re only selling two dishes. The logistics and economics of it made no sense. We have to get rid of that, and we have to have a menu that every item is balanced in terms of sales to some degree, at least less than how skewed it is with this current menu. We brought in a chef. We managed to find a chef locally who was really talented, and he wanted nothing to do with the old menu. He was not coming to cook somebody else’s food. We’re like, great, we’re on the same page there. We opened up. The other wrinkle in this whole thing was that Erika, my wife, is pregnant with our first baby. We were told that the due date was July 4th, which, if you know vacation towns in New England, July 4th is a very busy weekend. Easily the busiest weekend of the summer, which therefore is the busiest week of the year. It was also a brand-new restaurant for us. We ended up opening the restaurant on June 1. We had four weeks under us. Then Erika went into labor on July 4th. The baby was born on July 5th. It was insane. I was a zombie the entire year. It was probably the most intense thing we’ve ever done. We were renovating the house and the restaurant. We moved into the rest of the house on May 15, opened the restaurant on June 1, the baby came on July 5th. I don’t recommend it.

A: You’ve re-done the entire place, right?

D: No, it just needed new paint. It was really dark and drab. Everything was mauve, like red. It was just dark and dated. There are lots of tchotchkes everywhere, people bring them gifts I guess. Old Victorian lighting fixtures were hanging from a low ceiling so the whole place had this cavernous feel, but not a good way. It was stuffy so we brightened the whole place up. We added some new tables. We re-did the whole bar area. The bar needed a lot of work. The bones of the place were incredible but it just needed some love. Frankly, a slightly more contemporary approach to the style of a farmhouse, but modernized it a little bit. I think if you were to walk in, you would get what’s going on in here.

A: You basically re-do the place in terms of the menu, etc. What style of cuisine were you going for?

D: The stuff that we had loved in Brooklyn, new American comfort. Our favorite restaurants are these cozy new American spots in Brooklyn with a fantastic wine list and great cocktails. Again, like the Andrew Tarlow empire, Jeffery’s Grocery, this style of rustic, new American, but with great technique and a certain level of casualness at the same time. That was a weird thing for Cape Cod that people didn’t understand that you can have a nice restaurant that’s not fancy. They didn’t get that. People were very upset that we got rid of white tablecloths. We changed out all the glassware. We change out these giant Martini glasses for coupes. People lost their minds. They’re like, “What is this? Where’s my Martini glass?”

A: They’re angry, though.

D: Yeah, they were mad. I’ll tell you, we had people who walked out because we didn’t have a certain type of vodka. That’s all they drank is this one type of vodka and we didn’t have it. They got up and left. Then, they asked us for Limoncello and I didn’t have Limoncello so they left. Cape Cod is a weird place. I love it here, but there’s a weird culture where people overpay for food and underpay for booze. In New York City, there are certain benchmarks, standards for how you price things, and it was inverted on Cape Cod. People are giving away booze and charging stupid money for poor-quality frozen ingredients.

A: Whereas you’re taking the margin where you’re supposed to get it, which is from alcohol.

D: We are serving better-quality food at the same prices as everybody else. Anyway, our drink prices were not quite New York City prices by any means, but were priced according to the ingredients in the drink. There were quality ingredients and cheap cocktails, 12, 13, 14 bucks, but they were measured. They weren’t free-poured. People were really upset that they weren’t getting these giant pours of wine and giant, 6-ounce Martinis. People were angry, and they called us out for being from New York. We had people writing us letters, angry letters, saying they are never coming to our restaurant. For the check presenters, in the beginning, we’re using postcards. We had somebody write us a letter, a really nasty negative letter on one of our postcards with no return address. We were like, “Cool, thanks. I appreciate that.” It was wild. It was hard. The bar food on Cape Cod is very low. It’s been stuck in this ‘80s, ‘90s thing with seafood shacks with low-quality ingredients. It’s touristy, right? It’s getting your money when you can from people you’re never going to see more than once. Everything was stuck in that. Erika and I, coming from New York, we‘re going to be on Cape Cod. We want to create a place that we would eat on a regular basis, not just a special occasion, but a place that you want to go and see your friends. You want to go post up at the bar. You never know who’s going to walk in and be a neighborhood community spot. We thought we were bringing something that was very much needed to the Cape. It was needed. On the other side of this, people who don’t like change. You get older people, especially on Cape Cod there’s a lot of retirees. You get people who think they know everything, and they like it because nothing changes. As soon as you come in and you’re from a place in New York City, they get very upset.

A: It seems as though you thought that you were going to come in and people would say, “Thank you so much, we’ve been waiting for a Brooklyn-style restaurant on Cape Cod.” And they were like “get the fuck out.”

D: That was exactly it. There are so many emotions flying, between the move, the baby, going all-in on every penny. Then, to have somebody essentially spit in your face and not care about any of that. It’s the people who wouldn’t even try it, the people who wouldn’t even sit down and taste it would say, “I can’t read any of these ingredients. I don’t know what any of this is.” They were getting offended because they felt radicchio is a novel concept. You don’t want to make people feel small. They want to know and understand, they don’t want to have to ask questions. We were trying to do something where we were introducing people to new things. That’s the fun of it, right? For my wife and I, that’s why we like dining out, to go to new places and try different things and be excited when the menu changes every time we’re there because there’s something new to try. It’s an experience for us, and we’re dealing with a lot of people who just want the same thing every time. They wanted to count on certain things. On top of that, we throw in a seasonal menu, which changes four times a year and their heads really spin. They would say “Oh, I love that dish, where did it go?” We try to do something different that’s not in season anymore. We burned a lot of these old regulars from this restaurant, hard. Honestly, it was probably the best thing that ever happened.

A: There’s a silver lining here, Adam. Right now, it sounds all doom and gloom. You go to another place and you open the thing. We’ve got to get there.

D: Yeah, we’re going to get there. I’m just trying to say it is hard. It was a roller coaster of emotions. Everybody who’s considering doing this should be prepared for how this can happen.

A: Yeah, you don’t just walk in as a conquering hero.

D: Yeah, exactly. It took us a minute to recover. That first year, we closed for the first winter. We closed for three months because we were so fried emotionally. We asked, “What are we doing?” We stuck it out. That first year we had to go through that fire because the customers that came out the second year were so much more pleasant. They were people who didn’t go initially because they were nervous about this new restaurant. Then they started coming out and the previous restaurant customers, most of them, had left. It was great. All of a sudden, people are commenting on how much younger the guests in the restaurant were. It was a place where we heard that older and younger people used to call The Red Pheasant “The Dead Pheasant” because it was just so stuffy and old. It’s been taking a long time, but people now are like, Oh, it’s not The Red Pheasant anymore. It’s not like that, it’s not stuffy. It’s new owners, it’s young, it’s exciting. Those people had started coming out after these, for lack of a better term, crotchety, angry, disgruntled older customers stopped coming because they felt like this is a cool place to be. Every year since then has gotten better and better. People are more receptive to our menus and ingredient choices, style, and drink menus. The second year, we did a CBD cocktail with a weed leaf garnish dropped on top of the rocks, and people were so excited. People came out. We ran that for 4/20 as a special, and people went nuts. This is clearly a new thing here. Then, fast-forward, we got to Covid, and we were panicking. We were closed for six weeks. We were on vacation in Jamaica when the news started coming out in February about this looming pandemic. I was freaking out and having a hard time settling in on vacation. Then, we came back and it was full-blown. We were supposed to open on March 18 for the season. The governor shut everything down on the 16th, I think it was. It all changed. Then, we decided to push everything outside. We just did picnic tables. I’m really proud of how we set it up. There was all counter-service. We ran food out to you. The menu was much faster, and it was really easy for the kitchen to execute. It was a really fun and high-quality menu. It was casual. Everything’s in takeout containers. High-quality, compostable biodegradable containers, but still takeout containers nonetheless. We also had compostable forks and knives. The wine was all in plastic. It was all cans and bottles. We didn’t do anything by the glass, but it worked really, really well. We had a lot of people who were blown away by the experience. We had families coming out, which is great. The restaurant during normal times is probably not a great place for little kids. Their parents are absolutely our regular customers, and we can introduce them. Also, get people in during the summer that will hopefully continue to come. When things get back to normal, they’ll get babysitters and now they discover this restaurant. We had people who would be on vacation for five days and they were coming three or four nights of their trip because they were so excited about being outside and being safe. Everything was really spacious. We started selling all this natural wine that we were struggling to sell previously. I’ve got old ladies drinking Broc Cellars Love Red cans by the case. It was incredible. The casualness that was forced upon everybody really worked in our favor. It really took the pressure off, because we are still known to a lot of people as this special-occasion restaurant, which is a tag label we’ve been trying to shed. It really changed people. I’ve had customers say “I actually really liked your outdoor vibe better than what the restaurant was previously inside.”

A: I wonder about that. A bunch of people I know, we’re talking about now doing two different things when things go back to normal. For example, we brought on James who owns Popina in Brooklyn. I don’t know if Popina existed before you left.

D: I don’t think so but I’ve been keeping tabs on things.

A: He basically went to counter service and the question now becomes, does he become counter service in one part of his restaurant, or is that a during-the-day thing where he’s counter service and then he converts to sit down at night? There are now customers who love that. They love that they could come at 1 o’clock in the afternoon, get a bottle of wine, eat some of your food, sit out in the backyard and play bocce. Also, it’s going to allow him to come back more easily. We talk about this a lot on the podcast, too. What is it going to look like in terms of service and how many people are going to add to your staff and that kind of stuff? I wonder, have you thought about that, too? Would The Pheasant be casual during the day? Then you go to the traditional sit-down at night but outdoors. It’s still the same kind of counter service, etc. you guys were doing?

D: The problem with space is that we realize it’s not good to do indoor and outdoor at the same time. It’s one or the other. This past summer, while we were doing all the outdoor seating and everything, we were like, “Let’s do lunch. Let’s try lunch because we’re set up. It’s beautiful out. It’s Cape Cod.” We’ve never done lunch before and we were proven right. We don’t do lunch because on Cape Cod, on a sunny day, no one’s eating lunch. They’re all at the beach. Everyone’s at the beach. If you don’t have a waterfront view, you’re not going to get lunch business. There are a couple of places maybe, but most of them have views. Most of them have some connection with the beach or you can walk on from the beach. We tried for the first two months of June and July, offering lunch. It just didn’t happen. You would get a couple of tables. It’s also hard to change people’s perceptions. On the Cape, the biggest issue we have is marketing and communicating to customers, because so many people are tourists. They come out on the weekends, and there’s no way to connect to them. We hit people on Facebook and Instagram with ads or promote ads in Boston, because we want to get them before they come out here because once they’re out here, they’ve already made their plans. They know where they’re going. They’re going to go to all the favorites. You have to get them talking and thinking about it before they even get out here, get it on their radar. It’s hard to suddenly convince people like, “Oh, by the way, the restaurant is now doing lunch.” They’ve never done lunch in the 40 years they’ve been a business. We didn’t see it. The plan for us, and I’m knocking on wood right now, but we’re less than a mile from our local beach, which is a fantastic beach, very family friendly corporation beach. It’s a 10-minute walk, and they have a killer snack bar there. Well, the operator right now is not awesome. It’s pretty generic, mozzarella sticks and a bad burger. It’s just generic, but the space and layout are awesome. There are all these picnic tables on a cliff above the dunes, looking over the beach. It’s a really great setting, and it comes up for bid every two years. We’re going to put in for it for next summer and try to kill that program. That’s how we’ll do lunch. It’s off-site, but it’s less than a mile away. It’s a different style of food. You get people that way and then transition them, “Hey, come off the beach, bring this flyer and come get a cocktail with us at 5 o’clock or 4 o’clock.”

A: That’s awesome.

D: That is what we’re thinking is the transition and the next move is to get lunch because you have a captive audience at the beach.

A: You guys are closed now because this is the worst time to be open in Covid. What are your plans for when you reopen?

D: We were debating for a long time. I was really stressing out about if we’re going to be inside, outside, or if we’re going to do both. I was really concerned that a lot of people are going to want this sense of normalcy and they’re going to want to go back inside. We had a comfortable bar. A lot of regulars and people tell us, “We can’t wait to go back to the bar.” I was thinking, if we don’t go inside, we are going to have a lot of disappointed people, and people want normal. The more we thought about it, there’s just no flow. The building wasn’t designed to do that. The server who is going out with food would have to be sharing the entrance with people coming in. It’s a really long haul from the kitchen. We were talking about putting in new doors and this historic farmhouse cut doors into the side to access outside. It was just getting more and more complicated. We were thinking, all right, we already have all this infrastructure for doing outdoor dining. It’s summer on Cape Cod. Most people are probably going to eat outside. Last summer, everybody had outdoor dining setups, but they were janky. There were a lot of crappy rental tents with cement barricades. Those places are not going to do that again. They’re all going to go back inside because it’s easier for them. We’re set back from the road and we have these lush gardens and it’s very private. There are string lights, and you feel like you’re somewhere else. We’re thinking, “Let’s just stick with outside, we have the model down. We can build upon it and let’s take a chance on being the only game in town doing extensive outdoor seating. We’ve got 20 tables. We can put 120 people outside. It’s substantial. Let’s try that again and own it.” Massachusetts is operating differently than New York, from what I can tell. There’s a reopening, and they lifted the capacity limits in Massachusetts. The only restrictions for indoor dining are six feet apart, but nobody can get vaccines. The governor is saying, “We know the vaccines are taking a long time, everyone needs to be patient. We’re racing against the variants to get everybody vaccinated but we’re excited to reopen restaurants and businesses.” We’ve gone this far, why don’t we wait until more people are vaccinated or restaurant workers are vaccinated? Going inside is somewhat contingent on hope and a prayer that it seems it’s trending in that direction, but I don’t know. What do we know for sure? Outside, it’s safe. It’s Cape Cod in the summer, people like sitting outside, we know we can execute it. Let’s just do it. And we have this rare opportunity where other towns are giving waivers to restaurants to do extensive outdoor dining in areas that they normally wouldn’t let you do outdoor dining. You have to have patios. You have to have all kinds of infrastructure to do it “properly.” They’ve allowed waivers last summer, and I just checked again and they are going to do it again this year. Let’s run with it. Why complicate it? Everybody can feel comfortable. We can continue doing the kid thing. That all being said, we know that transition back inside in the fall next year is going to be rough, because we have to completely reinvent the restaurant. We’re going to close for a couple of weeks and go back inside because it’s just too cold out here, as it is in New York. I’m not looking forward to that, but I think that’s going to be the play. That’s where we’re at right now. We’re on a break right now, but every day all we’re doing is trying to run through scenarios. If we’re not doing anything inside, we have to do outdoor bathrooms. Are people going to respond to that? Are they going to get angry? How do we do this? How is the flow going to work? It’s a lot of what-ifs and unknowns. It’s stressful, but it’s almost easier now that we decide we’re just going to be outside, as opposed to trying to think about half in, half out. That’s the play. I’ve had fun listening to all the podcasts about your predictions and trends. I was listening to the lemonade one. I’m like, “Huh, I should probably look into lemonade.” We’re doing a lot of research and trying to see, trying to glean as much information as we can to try to have the most efficient and best summer we can. On Cape Cod, summer is it. You make 80 percent of your revenue for the year in three months.

A: It’s crazy.

D: We’re hoping that this year will start earlier. Last year, it didn’t really take off until August, because everyone was locked down and they weren’t allowing rentals on the Cape until July. It sputtered along until August, and then took off. This year, as soon as the weather turns, it’s going to be on like a firehose. There are no rental properties on Cape Cod. You can’t find a place to stay. It’s wild. They just announced part of the reopening so now you can have outdoor gatherings of 150 people. And so, all the weddings are back on. All the resorts are booked. It’s going to be bananas. You want to be in the right position to receive all that. There’s not a whole lot of room for error, at least for us. We take it really seriously. We take every review seriously. If somebody doesn’t leave telling us how amazing a time they had, we feel like we failed.

A: It means you’re a good restaurateur.

D: We’re trying to have it all dialed in for this quick hit, and then we’ll cross the next bridge when we get to it.

A: Well, Adam, this has been an amazing conversation. I feel like I’ve definitely learned a lot about what you’ve been through, which is awesome. Hopefully, everyone who has listened has as well. I think if you are thinking about moving from a city into a smaller town, much of what you say is encouraging to people. I think you’re also a realist, which is great. It’s not going to be easy. You’re not going to go somewhere and be welcomed with open arms. I think your story is a really, really cool one. I really appreciate you sharing it with me.

D: My pleasure. The best takeaway is that the quality of life is incredible. That’s the biggest thing. At the end of the day, on any given day, our son goes to the lake in the morning and goes to the beach in the afternoon, maybe we go fishing. It’s this incredible, magic childhood. We love being here in the winter because it’s so quiet and beautiful. We have so much space, but nothing comes easy. That was our ultimate goal. We will figure out the other part of it. Don’t give up the fight, but just know that it’s definitely not easy.

A: Well, Adam, thanks so much again, I really appreciate it. I wish you the best. I can’t wait to come to The Pheasant sometime. I’ve actually never been to Cape Cod, so I’m going to have to go. People talk about how amazing it is.

D: Thanks for having me. It’s a pleasure.

Thanks so much for listening to the podcast. If you love this show as much as we love making it, then please leave a rating on review on iTunes, Spotify, Stitcher, or wherever it is you get your podcasts. It really helps everyone else discover the show.

Now for the credits, VinePair is produced and recorded in New York City in Seattle, Wash., by myself and Zach Geballe, who does all the editing and loves to get the credit Also, I would love to give a special shout-out to my VinePair co-founder, Josh Malin, for helping make all this possible, and also to Keith Beavers, VinePair’s tasting director, who is additionally a producer on the show. I also want to, of course, thank every other member of the VinePair team who is instrumental in all of the ideas that go into making the show every week. Thanks so much for listening, and we’ll see you again.

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johnboothus · 3 years

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Next Round: Leaving NYC for a Small Town With Restaurateur Adam Dunn

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Adam Dunn: Not much. Enjoying a beautifully sunny day here on Cape Cod.

A: You were at Brooklyn Bowl, right?

A: I love Jonathan Toubin. He did a party of mine because I was in the music industry, too. I think we crossed paths.

D: Oh man, there’s so much here especially to make connections with you.

A: Yeah, I used to do A&R for J Dub.

D: OK, so we definitely crossed.

A: We used to throw parties at Brooklyn Bowl. I think you booked one of my bands there.

D: It gets so fuzzy between the two.

A: It’s crazy — I’m going on a tangent here — but were you there at the same time? Now I just blanked on his name, but the guy who was involved in signing MGMT and stuff.

D: Oh, Will Griggs.

A: Yes, Will Griggs! Were you there at the same time?

A: That’s amazing.

D: Yeah, Jonathan Toubin is where we left off. Jonathan Toubin actually DJ’d my wedding here on Cape Cod. He was our first ask and he said “yeah, I’ll come up and do it.”

A: Very cool. You’re trying to source great seafood, throwing parties.

A: Oh, wow.

A: It was supposed to be an adult place.

A: It makes me think of someone who would think about doing this in the Hamptons.

A: You’re not going to live 30 minutes away, 40 minutes away. If you need to get to the restaurant, then all of a sudden there’s a traffic jam, basically.

A: OK, so you buy the place. What was going through your head? Did you know what you wanted to do? Were you going to buy it and take it over? What were the people selling it expecting to happen?

A: He wasn’t going to mess with them because they were super-loyal customers.

A: Right. Trendy food items here from the ’90s, mixed with trendy food items here from the ’80s. I know what you’re talking about.

A: You’ve re-done the entire place, right?

A: You basically re-do the place in terms of the menu, etc. What style of cuisine were you going for?

A: They’re angry, though.

A: Whereas you’re taking the margin where you’re supposed to get it, which is from alcohol.

A: There’s a silver lining here, Adam. Right now, it sounds all doom and gloom. You go to another place and you open the thing. We’ve got to get there.

D: Yeah, we’re going to get there. I’m just trying to say it is hard. It was a roller coaster of emotions. Everybody who’s considering doing this should be prepared for how this can happen.

A: Yeah, you don’t just walk in as a conquering hero.

D: I don’t think so but I’ve been keeping tabs on things.

A: That’s awesome.

D: That is what we’re thinking is the transition and the next move is to get lunch because you have a captive audience at the beach.

A: You guys are closed now because this is the worst time to be open in Covid. What are your plans for when you reopen?

A: It’s crazy.

A: It means you’re a good restaurateur.

D: We’re trying to have it all dialed in for this quick hit, and then we’ll cross the next bridge when we get to it.

D: Thanks for having me. It’s a pleasure.

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