As COVID restrictions disappear, Charlotte restaurant owner asks: ‘Are we ready to unmask?’

Jamie Brown is a co-owner (with her husband, Jeff Tonidandel) of Crepe Cellar, Growlers Pourhouse, Haberdish, Reigning Doughnuts and the not-yet-opened Supperland. What are her thoughts during this time of uncertainty surrounding the novel coronavirus COVID-19?

Editor’s note: Stay tuned for more updates.

May 17, 2021

It’s been 14 months almost to the day since we had to close our doors due to the COVID-19 outbreak. I’ll never forget how eerily quiet Haberdish was that day. Only two guests had come in that morning. Then, just before lunchtime, the governor’s orders came out requiring us to close our businesses. Jeff let our whole staff go, tears rushing down his face. Many people don’t understand the super tight margins of restaurants — but hanging on to people without any revenue coming in isn’t possible — not even for a week.

Here it’s May 2021, and in what felt like a spurious 1:30pm Friday announcement May 14, 2021, all NC restaurants can return to full capacity with no mask mandate and no social distancing required. It was our GM at Supperland, Jon Rosenberg, who broke the news to us. Following was a flurry of emotions. Are we ready? Should staff still wear masks? Should we seat more people or stick with the 50% we’ve been running until we hire more staff? Is the public ready to unmask? Are WE ready to unmask?

We had planned to go full capacity in early June, so operationally we’re a little behind now. We’re still hiring up across each concept (which has its own share of challenges in this climate). We’re still fixing up our tables in our garage for Haberdish. We’re still working on new menus for Crepe Cellar. We’re still planning for the launch of a new Growlers Pourhouse menu (the one we launched for one month in 2020 before we had to close up and condense our menu dramatically).

We can’t move as quickly as the new order that came out, but we sure are grateful that the time has come.

I recognize that over the course of 2020 and into 2021, it was a combination of things that got us through.

The dedication of our staff is a clear first. We lost a lot of employees who decided to leave the restaurant industry, but we also kept a strong core of people who carried us through. They packed up to-go bags for months, wiped down surfaces time and again, kept masks over their smiles and stayed in a business that was in a very insecure place.

Our team also clawed after every bit of funding and grant opportunities we could to stay afloat and keep paying our employees. We accepted two rounds of PPP funding for Haberdish; and two rounds for Crepe Cellar LLC, which includes Growlers Pourhouse and Reigning Doughnuts. We also took advantage of the Thrive hiring grant.

For the build out of Supperland, we kept our eyes on our original vision — not knowing exactly how we’d get there, but knowing we would get there. We didn’t adjust many decisions for COVID, we just decided to build the place for a post-COVID world that would slowly return to normal.

Our customers kept coming back, too. Without them, we didn’t have a shot.

Last, patience saved the day. Throughout the past year, we all knew we’d have to work just as hard (or harder) for often less than 50% of our typical revenue. And that patience, combined with a will to survive and the flexibility to keep adjusting, got our ship safely through the storm.

Overwhelmingly, I feel grateful. Not only did our team manage to get four local spots through this crisis, we also opened a new restaurant — one that was our most ambitious project yet. Supperland recently won Best New Restaurant in Charlotte Magazine, and it’s been featured in Luxe Magazine, SouthPark Magazine, and our super quirky (and delicious) Ambrosia salad even got a recipe call out in Garden & Gun.

We’re ready to put all of this behind us, for sure — but there were a few positive things that we changed over the course of this past year that we’ll take with us. Our whole team is a lot more nimble than we were. We can update menus a lot faster. We’re faster at adding seasonal specials. We can add or subtract tables if we need to, and quickly. We finally adopted online ordering at Crepe Cellar — something we probably should have done years ago — but COVID pushed us into it. We also found new passions in the slower time — so going forward we’ll be able to do a lot more woodworking and mill working improvements ourselves.

Those are pretty tangible skillsets or changes we’ve made. But I think what I am taking away most of all is to never take this business and all the beauty of it for granted. As I close a year-long look at our business as it waded through this health crisis, I know it all could have gone differently.

When I take a seat to eat at one of our places, I look around the room and I take it all in … the people, the smiles, the aromas, the company, the strangers, the friends, the lighting, the music. Many restaurants closed and will never reopen. We get another chance. This is an incredibly beautiful and fragile business, and I’m grateful for every minute we have in it.

Dec. 18, 2020

Jeff and I left town for Sarasota to visit Jeff’s father and figure out how to best take care of him. We left our house to Uncle Bryce. We left our restaurants to our incredible teams across Crepe Cellar, Growlers Pourhouse, Reigning Doughnuts and Haberdish. And we left our fairly intense buildout at our new concept, Supperland.

Supperland is the toughest to set aside right now because we’re at a gloriously fun place with it — it’s all the aesthetic touches that are delightful to see come together. The garden is nearly complete, the chandeliers are getting the little glass pears all hooked on and in place, our handmade tables are getting the bases affixed.

But we’re lucky. A handful of our teammates — who will be moving over to Supperland — showed up to keep the place progressing, to make sure that everything gets in place.

From here, there’s a bit of a waiting game. In the coming weeks, our restaurant will be ready to open, but we won’t open. Our doors will remain shut until it’s a better, more steady time.

En route to Florida, we took COVID tests, spitting into small viles and FedEx-ing them out for diagnostics. A day and a half later, we received our negative results via email. Despite the results, we’re still masking up when we see Pops. He’s just too high risk.

The holidays are in full swing in NoDa, and for the first time ever, Haberdish is offering a special holiday menu for pick up on Dec. 23. The menu will have a Honey-Glazed Ham and our Fried Chicken with a Pepper Gravy. We’ve got Smoked Cheddar Mac and Cheese, Anson Mills Grits with Creamed Spinach and Artichoke, and a variety of vegetable options like Rainbow Roasted Carrots and Collard Greens and Thyme-Garlic Mushrooms. We’ve never done any holiday menus like this before, but like every other restaurant in town, we’re trying to stay on our toes and keep revenue up this wintertime. Orders are being accepted online through Dec. 21, and the food will be handed over, chilled, with re-heating instructions.

Back to keeping it together. Back to watching our buildout from afar. Back to homeschooling from Florida. Back to watching intently what happens with the next COVID relief package. Back to the beautiful, serene beaches and hanging on to thoughts of hope and times of peace.

Dec. 11, 2020

This weekend marks new changes for restaurants per NC COVID-19 regulations. Now we cannot serve alcohol past 9 p.m., and we must have guests out of our buildings by 10 p.m. Our revenue windows just tightened up even more.

We’ve been running our business with one leg the majority of this year, and we’ve just cut off a hand, but I can’t let myself dip into negativity. Today, I chose to get pansies and plant them at Crepe Cellar in the window boxes and in the planter boxes lining the sidewalk in front of Haberdish. It was a nice distraction, and those resilient little pansies will get us through these winter months.

We’ll keep investing, we’ll keep believing.

Right now, as difficult as it is to face these new restrictive changes, Jeff’s mind and my mind are preoccupied with something else. Jeff’s dad is sick. He’s 87, and been healthy his whole life, but he has developed a rare condition that may give him days, may give him weeks, may give him months. We are now tasked with figuring out how to care for an elderly loved one down in Sarasota during COVID. Jeff visited last week — gearing up with gloves, a mask and goggles on the plane because we can’t risk getting Pops sick.

Usually each year Pops comes and stays with us for six weeks in the springtime to play in tennis tournaments nearby. Yes, Jeff’s dad was still playing competitive tennis until last year. In fact, the past seven years, Jeff and his dad have competed in USTA National tournaments in the Father/Son bracket. Even up until 2019, they were rated first in the country. The two have won eight celebrated gold balls together (that’s what all the competitors are after: gold balls).

During those times when Pops would visit, he would sleep in our study, crammed with books and the kids’ toys. He’d use our awkward miniature bathroom off our dining room, and hunker in with our family for a month and a half — often planted a foot and a half in front of the TV, glued to the tennis channel.

Pops is one of the most unusual people I’ve ever met, marking points in notebooks for each serve in a tennis match, recording his weight every day in a hand-drawn chart, and sending me annotated articles streaked with yellow highlights and circular pen marks around key phrases — all to encourage my love for art history.

Now with the prognosis of so little time left with him, I’m planning to hit the road with the kids and make our way to Florida, following Jeff who’s headed via plane. I’ll take some time to cook him a bunch of food — he’s a health nut and will appreciate the home cooking. Maybe he can watch his grandkids do a tennis lesson, and maybe he’ll have some of those Dum Dums in his pocket that he always hands the kids.

We’re lucky to have a really special way to keep him nearby, too: back a couple of years ago, Pops was featured in the documentary, Gold Balls — a film about the ultra senior men’s tennis world. He’s one of the leading characters. The movie is about tennis. It’s about fighting to win, even at an advanced age. It’s about always putting forth your best, no matter what that “best” looks like. It’s worth a watch. You’ll see the true Pops, and none of it is an exaggeration.

Dec. 3, 2020

The 1212 The Plaza block, where Supperland is aching to open, has made a lot of progress this week. Our granite counter tops came in. Our irrigation is all in place for our southern garden. Painting is underway in the bathrooms. The large metal sign that used to read “Beadlush” has been knocked down, making room for our new, lower sign that will replicate the arch above the doorway of the building. Also, three palates arrived stocked with our custom plates — which means I’m full court press trying to get the online store ready.

As leaps of progress happen at Supperland this week, our other places are hanging on. I know we’re not alone in this — we’ve talked to other restaurant groups — but this is a tight time. This is usually a really profitable time of year with people treating themselves, visiting family, taking the time to be together and splurge.

As 2020 rounds out a rough year for every restaurant, what I can proudly say is that our team remains hopeful and resilient. They keep pressing on — and as creatively as ever.

Our head mixologist, Colleen Hughes, brought her A-game for our Haberdish holiday cocktails. They’re remarkable drinks:

All I Want for Christmas

Christmas Freaking Magic

Gingerbread Old Fashioned

Christmas Mule

Blue Christmas

Frozen Egg Nog (coming soon)

Ginger Holiday Sparkler

Colleen has also bundled up three different cocktail kits — which are great for small at-home holiday gatherings.

Sarah Jean Long, our Reigning Doughnuts manager, came up with a smashing list of unique seasonal flavors from Fruit Cake to Candied Bologna. I’m struck by the continuing creativity.

Chai Spiced Cheesecake, Dec. 7- 20

Chocolate Hazelnut, Dec. 21-27

Fruit Cake, Dec. 28-Jan 10

Special New Years Doughnut, Dec. 31-Jan. 1

Pecan Pie, Jan. 11-24

Candied Bologna, Jan. 25-31

Patience. Keeping our eyes toward the light. Having faith. Planting seeds. Moving forward despite. I’m reminded of the importance of the ebb and flow of life.

O precious is the pause between the winds that come and go / and sweet the silence of the shores between the ebb and flow. — Arthur O’Shaughnessy

It’s just an ebb. It will all come back. I must believe that. Here at the end of another year, we all must believe that.

Nov. 26, 2020

Happy Thanksgiving.

After saying grace, I sat quietly in my chair, realizing that I had just said, “Thank you for this beautiful year.” Strangely in the midst of a lot of loss and fear and uncertainty, it still has been a beautiful year.

My identical twin sister came to visit for the holiday. She’s been impacted tremendously by COVID. She moved from New York City to Sag Harbor to quarantine when everything was so terrible and scary in April, May and June. She then moved to Hilton Head with her husband and daughter to begin again. It’s been a radical year for them.

My sister has been one of the people I’ve been most worried about getting COVID. She’s a Type 1 diabetic, and I’ve worried about how she’d react having a pre-existing condition. Well, we found out. A few weeks back she sent me a text that she tested positive for COVID. I cried myself to sleep that night thinking the worst: What if I won’t ever see her again? What if she has to be hospitalized? Will I need to go see her and tend to her in her last days? God no.

But she pulled through just fine. For two days she had fever and achy feelings, and she still has a mild cough, but overall she’s feeling great. And with her having had COVID, we all felt a lot more comfortable being around one another. Things feel normal.

We celebrated Thanksgiving over at Supperland with turkey, mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables and cornbread. I made a bone broth gravy, and my sister baked a carob cake — a cake that even I could eat being on my restrictive AIP diet.

This is the time of year a lot of us have felt a little concerned — the time as people travel around to visit loved ones — likely giving COVID wings to pass even faster. This is also when all of us restaurant owners are holding tight, trying to stay nimble and ready to make changes as required.

We’re as ready as we can be.

I wanted to congratulate one of our staff members, Olga, known as “the glue” at Crepe Cellar. She has now been with our restaurant family for 10 years. Thank you for showing up day after day. Thank you for being committed to our team. Thank you for keeping a positive attitude. Thank you for setting an example for others. Thank you for finding ways to rise up on our team, too. We’re lucky.

This year “grateful” looks a little different, but it’s also maybe a little more powerful, a little more heartfelt, a little more like we’re not taking everything for granted.

Nov. 19, 2020

Tucked in a corner of our kitchen counter, a rectangular glass container rests with a paper towel over the top. Underneath that towel is our bread starter for Supperland. I’m gluten free, and I also don’t eat any grains because of autoimmune responses, but it’s my job to feed our starter every day. And when I say “our,” I mean “all of our” — this is the starter that will create our fresh baked breads when we open Supperland for service in early 2021.

Starters are like pets — each day needing care. And for me, it’s been an oddly healing part of my daily ritual. Here we are a bit broken about not being able to open our new restaurant yet, but each day I have a reminder that it is still coming. That we have people to feed. That our doors will open at just the right time, and we’ll have delicious, fresh bread for our guests.

There’s been a lot more conversation this week about restaurants and a potential winter shutdown. Do I think it’s going to happen? Yes, I do. Unfortunately. But, I think many of us in the restaurant business are OK with this as long as we have help to cover the cost of closing and to help our employees make it through. I know Jeff and I both want to do whatever we need to do as a business to help keep our community safe. We’re having preliminary discussions about what we’d do differently from March, what worked and what didn’t work. And how to be better prepared if we have to cease dine-in operations.

Supperland is a bit of a different story, though. Our timing puts it in a really interesting category. We’re a small business that cannot get help from most grant programs or government assistance programs because we’ve never been open. There are no revenue numbers on which to base those assistance programs. At this point, we’re on our own with the help of our graciously understanding landlord, Manor & Park, to make it through.

If restaurants do get shut down in Charlotte, most of you know the prime ways of helping your favorite local places. Order takeout. Buy gift cards. Tip well. Do your part to not spread COVID-19 (washing hands, distancing, masks) so we can all open back up again as quickly as feasible.

Know that when all of us restaurateurs are hanging on by a string, every little bit helps. I’ll speak for each local restaurateur in advance and say, “We thank you, we cannot make it through without you.”

I wanted to note the importance of one thing that seems like it isn’t a big deal, but it really matters for our local restaurants: When you order takeout, if at all possible, go straight to the restaurant rather than using a third party service (like DoorDash or Postmates). Restaurant margins are super tight, and these third party services get a hunk of the profits. Many restaurants (ours included) choose not to use these services because of the harsh hit we’d take. Simply order direct if you can.

Looking forward, at the other side of the potential shutdown, what’s sitting in the back of my mind is that our team will not only have to re-open our four existing concepts, we’ll also host the grand opening of Supperland. That’ll constitute a pretty busy week.

Nov. 12, 2020

I’ve been going for a lot of evening walks. The nights have gotten cooler, and wet leaves are bunching up around all the sewers, making the sidewalks slippery. Glowing yellow lights above make me think of my childhood and how dark those Pittsburgh evenings would get so early.

For weeks I’ve been feeling optimistic, like we really can open our new restaurant, Supperland, by the end of the year. But last week, our country had a day with 100,000 new COVID-19 cases. This week, we’ve had a day with 150,000 new cases. Is it now just inevitable we will all get it? It feels like there’s no hiding from it.

I waffle from one side to the other. There’s a vaccine coming! We should be full of jubilee! But wait, there’s a long, cold winter ahead — what does this look like for human lives. What does this look like for our economy, our businesses?

Jeff and I have decided not to push to open Supperland in 2020. It’s been a hard decision. Really hard. I hate being so delayed. Surely we could have done a better job and gotten ourselves to a place to open sooner, to start covering rent, to start the process of building. But it’s so risky with the chance we’d have to close up this winter. Maybe we’ll open at just the right moment, when the skies clear, when we can all get back together again, when we can actually hug one another and greet guests with more than a covered smile.

Part of me feels absolutely heartbroken, but I have the solace that it’s still here. It’s still a dream and that dream can still happen.

I’m reading a lot right now, trying to productively keep my mind off negative thoughts. I’ve just finished “You’re a Badass” by Jen Sincero (for the second time). And I’m reading “The Power of Now” — a book I haven’t read in 10 years, but it seemed like a good one to pick back up.

Really, we’re lucky. Our Supperland project may not be an easy, clean start, but we still get to do it. And y’all … wait ’til you see that place. We fired up the fire oven this past weekend and made a family dinner: scallops wrapped in proscuitto, ribeye, smashed potatoes, roasted Brussels sprouts and roasted tomatoes.

You could smell the fire from the sidewalk, and that smell … it holds an incredibly reminiscent feeling— of people coming together, around a fire, free to justbe. It might be later than we wanted, but I can’t wait to open our doors, it’s going to feel like that every night.

Nov. 5, 2020

I have been dreading this week. It was the uncertainty — plus the polarization of our country (and families), plus the impending impacts of COVID-19.

I’ve woken up each morning in a state of gratitude that this week went better than I expected.

But there’s so much polarization and so many half-truths and un-truths floating in the abyss of social media, and people are getting in a tizzy over rumors about the security of our elections. It’s hard to know who to believe or what to believe. It’s hard to not question, particularly when people you love believe completely different storylines.

What I’m doing to cope is … avoiding conversations with family. (That’s healthy right? OK, I’m working through it.) But what I also do, is I take it upon myself to research every fraud allegation I come across and find several sources to support or debunk these theories. I encourage everyone of us to do the same.

I truly believe that we ALL as Americans want a secure election — that we want whomever fairly wins in this process to have their four years. I think we’re all on that same page. I hope we’re all on that same page. So if you hear of allegations, don’t start sharing those reports until you research and back up the findings. Some photos are being reused on social media from the 2018 election. Some people are claiming to be poll workers and they’re simply not. Some population stats are getting mixed up (intentionally or not) with prior elections.

This is a tender time — let’s all go about things in a thoughtful way. It’s our responsibility as American citizens to seek the truth, especially right now.

This week our country reported 100,000 COVID-19 cases in one day. That’s hard to stomach when we’ve only just started into the cooler season. I feel myself wanting to retreat into my home and stay within 10 feet of my front porch.

Jeff and I hoped to start making opening plans for Supperland, but now we’re also trying to come up with a plan to weather the winter — and facing the possibility of another shut down. (It’s our “Pivot Plan.”)

I’ve said it before, but Supperland isn’t flexible enough as a new restaurant to open and then close and reopen months later. There’s too much expense in training employees, keeping heavier staffs as we open, ramping up food inventory — it’s a lot of risk if we open too soon.

We’re brainstorming ideas, and some of them are a little crazy. Somehow we’ll have to get revenue coming in —and possibly without even opening.

On a lighter note, we passed our fire inspection. That means we can start testing out the wood-fired oven and the 14-foot grill. We’re taking a big step forward. We can now begin cooking in that gorgeous, one-of-a-kind space.

Oct. 29, 2020

Chicago has closed up indoor dining. Many European countries are already closing up businesses and borders to halt the next wave of COVID-19.

As the patterns have been, we’re just behind these places in the timeline. I’d be lying if I said I was confident it’s not coming here, too. My mind is racing through what we’d have to do if winter and COVID don’t mix well in Charlotte and numbers increase too quickly. We could be next. It might be in a month, it might be in two months.

Somehow it feels like there’s something we could do to stop it. Like if everyone masked up, and avoided large crowds, and took this sickness seriously for a few more months, maybe in a warmer climate like North Carolina, we won’t have to go through it all again. Our state is holding steady for now.

Anyway, I know who gets hit hardest financially — and we’re on our toes again, listening, staying attuned.

As for Supperland, we’re so close and we have an internal plan for opening, but all that might be put on hold if by chance we’re not allowed to open for dine-in guests come cold weather. Take out service won’t be an option like it is for our other restaurants. We’d just have to wait. Like everyone else, rent will come due, and there will be no revenue to support it.

Still, we have to take steps forward like there’s not a gigantic wall that might pop up in front of us. We have to move forward with hope, with the expectation that we will be opening soon.

This week, I put on my styling hat and I captured photos of our new Supperland plates for the “Shop” section of our website. We’re going to sell our custom-designed plates online. I took one of our new handmade hickory tables and placed it on the ground of our front porch. I draped boxes and clear wrap all around the space to get rid of any glares. I set the table with plates, flowers, silverware and napkins. I braced myself on our porch chairs to get overhead shots.

The photos turned out lovely.

I used to do product photoshoots and some styling for a living — when I worked for Lance Snacks many years ago, and then also for a marketing agency in town, too. I didn’t expect to be using those skill sets anymore, but here we are in 2020 — and we’re all wearing whatever hats we need to. (Hey, most of us never expected to be teachers this year, either.)

It was the ideal day for a photoshoot. Overcast skies let in an even light — perfect for a shoot — and perfect to escape from the thoughts of what might be coming that could upend our world once again.

Oct. 22, 2020

Happy 75th birthday, Dad. In a tumultuous, very polarizing time, when it’s hard to find the right words — the good words that would keep a family unified — I want you to know that even though we don’t always see eye to eye, I love you.

I voted this week. It was a really smooth process for me. Tape spaced out the line of people in vivid, blue colors on the sidewalk in front of Myers Park High School. When I approached the door to enter the building, a masked volunteer gave me my blank ballot card. She also held out a pen wrapped in plastic, that she had just unwrapped with her gloved hands.

I walked up to a table, a shield of glass separating me from the gentleman collecting my personal information. He got me the correct ballot, and I signed with the pen that only I had touched. I was then led to a voting booth wherein I realized that the other end of the pen was actually a stylist. Brilliant. I popped at the screen with my super-convenient stylist, whizzing through all the candidates (and we sure had a lot this year!) I felt proud of my city — that the process was smooth, that there was a lot of intention behind COVID-19 precautions.

Well done, Charlotte.

Many of the NoDa businesses are getting together in support of a Candy Crawl on Tuesday, Oct. 27, from 6-8 p.m. The nice thing about NoDa is that you can be pretty entertained just by walking the streets. And on the 27th, families can walk around to our local businesses to trick-or-treat.

It’s been a while since our community has all worked together for an event like this. I’ve missed the camaraderie and teamwork. With COVID, most of us have had to retreat to our separate businesses just to paddle our own boats through the crisis.

At the Candy Crawl, of course all attendees are asked to keep social distancing from one another and from the staff at the participating businesses. All the staffers will be following the safest COVID-19 precautions. In our group of restaurants, we’ve got Haberdish, Crepe Cellar and Reigning Doughnuts participating. We opted not to do the crawl at Growlers Pourhouse just because we’re still short-staffed. Plus, we didn’t want anyone walking inside the building. Crepe Cellar will hand candy out of our take-out window — Reigning Doughnuts, the same. Haberdish has a large enough front area to accommodate passersby.

Here is a list of participating NoDa businesses for the Candy Crawl. We’re all excited to see trick-or-treaters here in 2020.

Cabo Fish Taco

Crepe Cellar

Curio, Craft, and Conjure

F45 Training

Four Dog Pet Supply

Free Will Craft + Vine

The Goodyear House

Haberdish

Heist Brewery

Industrious

Khali Yoga

Mac Tabby

NoDa Company Store

Protagonist

Reigning Doughnuts

Salud

My mom hat just slid on: As always on Halloween, I’m hopeful all those trick-or-treaters take special caution with cars, as it is difficult to see at night on our busy NoDa streets.

Oct. 15, 2020

This week was filled with progress on our Supperland project.

We’re doing a lot of behind the scenes work like getting our employee manual ready with with dress code information, points of service, branding information and our employee insurance program. Our website buildout has begun, and this time it will include a little “Shop” area where guests can purchase our southern-inspired plate ware. The menu is also getting designed up — though we’re still tweaking the menu items themselves.

On the Supperland construction front, a huge change happened this week: the entire large building was cleared out so we could sand and stain the floors. This, was, a, process. We’re doing something a little unusual, we’re dual-staining the floors to keep the look of a center aisle in the building. Our initial attempts were too stark — the center aisle coming out too light. But now the team has it nailed. We’ve got the look we were going for, a slight tonal difference that is noticeable but doesn’t overtake the space. It looks gorgeous. We’re hoping some little decisions like this help us keep a little bit of the original intent of the building alive.

Jeff and I hosted another chef dinner this week, and the team grilled up a skirt steak, some bacon fat Brussels sprouts, grilled broccoli and charred corn cooked right on the embers in their husks. The main benefit of these backyard grill dinners are that we get to keep practicing cooking over fire. That, and, we’re getting to know each other better and have more faith in one another so that when “go time” comes, we know we can rely on one another to get this gigantic project off the ground and soaring — even in a pandemic.

In NoDa, business continues along as normal as it can for us — including some blips of brightness.

Happily, our doughnut shop is smack in the middle of fall flavors and with this cooler weather, doughnuts and hot chocolate from a pickup window became a hot item. Right now we’re running Coffee and Candied Walnuts through 10/25, and next week it’ll be a Halloween Doughnut (10/27-11/1).

As November approaches, it’s a reminder that we’ll need to get holiday flavors rolling soon. I’m just glad we can think about frivolous things like that.

Oct. 8, 2020

Our president came out on Oct. 2, stating that he and his wife have COVID. I’m not a Trump supporter, but it felt rattling. We don’t need more twists to this year and this election. It’s nearly a week later, and we’re all a little confused about how he’s actually doing. Uncertainty looms.

The 2020 departure from the peacefulness of “normal” incites my mind towards the tiniest glints of hope and beauty. It’s like Martin Luther King Jr. has said, “Only in the darkness can you see the stars.”

The stars came in the form of music for me this week.

One day, my kids and I happened upon a free music class in Latta Park put on by Bold Music Lessons. On the sloping grass of Latta, a crew of kids danced and clapped and sang. I sat quietly listening to the twanging of a ukelele and the giggles of children. Peace.

I also got to attend an outdoor Opera Carolina event hosted by SoCo Gallery and Tabor. A small crowd of about 30 sat in the parking lot, all masked up, on blankets and chairs and listened to a half hour mini concert. As the sun blazed across my face and my hands pressed into the rocky asphalt, the performers’ voices bellowed proudly, beautifully, unhindered. My eyes teared up. For a moment we were all unshackled. We were all lifted —out of the worry, out of the stress, out of whatever it is that we will look back and say 2020 was.

This week has been a huge week for the aesthetics of Supperland. Our chandeliers are hung. Our chef counter lights arrived. Our chef counter stools came in. We got the trim on the underside of the cocktail bar completed. The walls in the cocktail bar are getting primed for wall paper. We’re picking out our bathroom mirrors. The long awaited vision is coming together.

Our new Haberdish brunch offering on the weekends has been a hit. We figured it would be. And tomorrow is the first day Crepe Cellar opens for lunch. We’re running a similar menu as dinner time — just for efficiency’s sake. But we’ll also have a lobster roll on the menu, along with a turkey avocado club and several flavors of wings. These additional items are served on the Growlers Pourhouse dinner menu, but to keep food waste down, we’re offering them at Crepe Cellar on Friday lunches for now, too. These are the kinds of decisions restaurants across the city are having to make to keep costs down.

We’re holding tight, taking nothing for granted, staying hopeful and enjoying the feeling of “coming back.” We’re also tempered, knowing winter is around the corner, and we don’t know what that season will bring.

Oct. 1, 2020

Tomorrow, North Carolina moves into Phase 3. I think what is most surprising about it is how the change really doesn’t impact us at all. The entire restaurant industry in town remains at 50% capacity, and tables are spaced 6 feet apart and we’re all investing daily in things like masks, and hand sanitizer, and the time to clock in with temperature checks each shift. It’s become routine, all these practices and new expenses.

As a restaurant group, we may not have any new freedoms added this week with Phase 3, but gratefully, business continues to trend upward. Our spots are growing enough that we’ve decided to add some hours.

Starting Tuesday Oct. 6, Crepe Cellar and Growlers Pourhouse will both be open on Tuesday evenings for dine in. Then, we’re also doing a test on Fridays at Crepe Cellar — we’re opening for lunch. Crepe Cellar needs to boost revenue to take advantage of efficiencies, so we’re going to see if adding hours can help get that business to a profitable place. That’s the tough thing about restaurants, margins are so tight, that even if a place is doing pretty well, turning a profit can still be a challenge. We’re hoping to see improvement with more dine in hours.

If Friday lunch at Crepe Cellar goes well, we’d like to try lunch on Fridays at Haberdish, too. Haberdish is just a tough one to play with right now because it’s actually profitable in its current state. We don’t want to mess with it much. We’re healthily treading through.

Business picking up has definitely been a sigh of relief. I feel grateful just to have gotten to this point, and now with revenue numbers increasing, there’s also the relief as we look forward to the Supperland opening. Maybe it doesn’t feel as scary anymore. Just scary like you’re opening a business, not scary like you’re opening a business with a giant monster named COVID-19 lurking at the front door, frightening customers away. I see light. I see hope. In my head I see people mingling outside at Supperland, catching up with old friends in the dining room, tasting cocktails at the bar, watching the flames of the grill flickering around a juicy steak.

This week we hosted another chef dinner on our back deck. The theme: Seafood. We ate like kings — lobster, shrimp, whole Branzino. Sauces, sweet potatoes, leeks. After the meal Jeff said, “We’re really getting there on the menu now. I’d feel proud to serve any of that food at Supperland.”

They’re doing a great job.

Jeff picked up another heap of hickory this week, this time from Greensboro. I now know what we’ll be doing this weekend. It’ll be days in the garage measuring and gluing, piecing together the last batch of tables for the Supperland dining room. In the grass across the driveway, our three children will be rolling around with the neighborhood kids playing spy or superheroes or God knows what.

Sept. 24, 2020

This week, I did something out of my element. I took the kids to the park. I’ve felt so skittish taking them anywhere, but as parks have opened up here in North Carolina, we went for a play at Butterfly Park in the Sedgefield neighborhood.

When we got out of the car, my daughter asked, “Do you mean we can actually go on the playground?”

“Yes, you can climb on everything, just give space if there are other kids around you,” I said.

“OK,” she said. And she nodded, smiling, accepting the momentary taste of normalcy.

This week, we’ve started having some conversations about expanding hours at the restaurants. It’s a great feeling. On Oct. 6, Crepe Cellar and Growlers Pourhouse will both open back up for Tuesday evening service. Crepe Cellar will also be opening for Friday lunch. This will be new for us — we haven’t been open for this many hours in a week since March. There’s talk about adding lunch service at Haberdish, too —probably just Thursdays and Fridays — that will hopefully come soon.

Business-wise, all our spots are growing, trending upward, but we’re capped at 50% still, so it’s all relative. At this point, most of the growth is coming from weekend traffic. Our weekdays are still really slow. I think Charlotte diners are using the weekends as their special occasion to get out for the week — still eating most of their meals in the home.

We’re hoping as the weekends get busier, some people will elect to visit during the week to avoid crowds and waits. That will help the health of our businesses tremendously — some of which may be growing —but they’re yet to turn a profit. That’s what I think a lot of restaurants are facing right now — particularly ones without outdoor spaces. People are starting to dine out in greater numbers, but efficiencies aren’t there yet, it’s hard to actually make money, and run a sustainable business. So many local spots are just treading water.

Supperland took big strides this week aesthetically, our tile floor was installed near the open kitchen. The team also tiled the underside of the bar in the main dining room. We made a bold move and did two contrasting tiles next to one another. I’d never be that bold in my own house — but in a restaurant with a personality like Supperland, we wanted the extra flare. I’m ecstatic with how it turned out.

With all the buildout details starting to come together, Jeff is at Supperland all day, every day. I’m holding the helm at home, getting us through MAP tests, Social Studies projects, tending to alarms beckoning children back to the next zoom call, and running what seems like a cafeteria for three square meals and a 3 p.m. snack time.

With a full-remote plan for my kids all semester, I guess I better get used to it.

Sept. 17, 2020

We’ve learned this week that CMS will begin accepting kids back in the buildings for in-person instruction this fall. This new plan kind of impacts our family, kind of not. We actually signed our kids up for full-remote at the beginning of the school year, so they won’t be going in person anyway. Now I just have the uncertainty of what their learning environment will look like.

Will they have the same teachers?

Will the schedule stay the same?

Will they be virtually present in a live classroom — like on a computer screen in the room?

Will this new plan require more coordination from me to oversee?

I have no idea right now.

I’ll be honest, I’m not great at change. I bend like a wooden spoon. But, with full-remote, I was planning to be home with the kids all semester anyway, so we’re just going to do our best, and somehow I’m going to keep working, too. As the restaurants ramp up (thankfully), and Supperland’s opening begins to appear on the horizon, my workload is beginning to increase.

The one thing I keep leaning back on is that at least our family schedule will be consistent. I don’t have to worry about getting kids to school one week and then not the next. I’m grateful my job has the flexibility that I can stay at home. Yes my work is compromised, but so many of us are wading through that murk.

This week, our team pushed forward on Supperland in a lot of ways. Our barware arrived. It’s gorgeous. Our head mixologist, Colleen Hughes, has some incredibly exciting things she going to do on the cocktail side over there, and now she’s got the glassware to make it happen.

Jeff and I also hosted another backyard R&D night with our chefs. We’re making headway and having a lot of fun in the process. Our focus this week: greens on the grill. Each chef brought different takes on the theme. There were apples stuffed with cabbage, radicchio fresh off the flames, fresh fruit sweetened by deep black grill marks, and marinated produce atop grilled lettuce. The team is excited, coming up with cool ideas and feeling, well, even more like a team.

We need that. We’ve got a lot of elements — across the two restored structures and over about 60 staff members — that all need to come together at just the right time.

Friday, Sept. 11, 2020

We’ve all been through challenges before — big ones. Probably every one of us can remember where we were on Sept. 11, 2001. I remember where I was. I was 23 and back at my parents’ house in Pittsburgh, PA. I had tried to find a job out in Los Angeles, post-grad school, and I got tripped up and ended up back with my mom and dad. It was harrowing. I hadn’t been home but a handful of days when I walked out of my bedroom one morning and found my parents watching the news. The towers had been hit. We were all aghast, unsure, frightened of how many of the planes overhead might come crashing down.

Our whole family ate dinner at my grandmother’s house that night. We needed to be together.

The skies got quiet that day as planes were grounded.

For me, no other time has come as close to that eerie feeling as this year when the world screeched to a halt. The skies quieted, businesses closed, streets emptied, uncertainty loomed, families hunkered.

As a mom of three, I pray more now. I sit quietly every morning to thank God we didn’t wake with a cough in the middle of the night. I’ve slowed down to tend to the world closest to me, shielding out the extraneous. There have been a lot of similar feelings from 9/11, of fear and unrest, though in very different circumstances.

The COVID spread numbers are continuing to look better in NC, and I feel a calmer resolve about my kids’ health — that I can keep them safe, keep them from getting sick. I feel more confident that our businesses will rebuild. A twinkling of hope, a course toward healing.

Our restaurants, still capped at 50% capacity, are now all doing over 50% of revenue. Some of our concepts can be profitable at that level and some cannot. We’re of course dipping into PPP funds every week, scaling back however we astutely can and trying to fight to stay top of mind for potential guests. There are a lot of great restaurants we compete with in this growing town.

Our Supperland buildout is picking up exponentially — and it’s all the little details I love. At the start of a project like this, there’s a long waiting period when buildout commences and the team gets working on fire proofing and zoning and electrical — to now, when we see the tile get installed, pick out the glassware, receive our sample plates and put up wall paper.

This weekend, I’m going to take my kids on bikes to see Charlotte’s 9/11 memorial flags at Romare Bearden Park. For me, it’s about the memory of that day, back 19 years ago. But it’s also about rising up and finding ways through the difficult times that every one of us has to face. I want my kids to understand the importance of that struggle, the importance of resilience. We all can attest, sometimes healing comes right away, sometimes healing takes a lot more time.

Thursday, Sept. 3, 2020

After being certain we were going to drop out of kindergarten (I had made full plans to home school starting Wednesday), my son’s teacher came back to us with an individualized education plan, and it’s a plan our family can implement. I feel good about it. No, I feel great about it. Now, my mornings can focus on kindergarten, and my afternoons can be centered on my third grader (who hasn’t yet made it through a school day this year without crying). Our little one-room school house is in a better spot, and I’m grateful for the school’s thoughtfulness in educating all these kids however they can.

This week, Jeff and I hosted another get together with the chefs from Supperland. Our focus: butters. Butters for meats, butters for seafood, butters for bread, butters for veggies. Each chef brought three unique ideas, so we had a solid 15 butters to taste. We all decided a “team run” might be in order soon.

Going through the process of opening a restaurant during COVID has made me think about what’s different this go-around in launching a new concept. This will be our fifth spot here in Charlotte, but this Supperland buildout sure is unique.

For one thing, our menu R&D has taken place a lot at our house. The chefs come here, and we hang out outside on the front porch or back deck. Sans a pandemic, we would be using the Haberdish or Crepe Cellar kitchens and dining rooms for taste testing.

Another thing that’s different is Jeff and I can’t travel to try other restaurants right now for inspiration. I realize how lucky we were to travel so much last year to Chicago, London, Atlanta, Nashville, New York … in great part to take in the food scenes. We unknowingly did our work early.

Of course, construction is a little slower this year, too. We had hoped to open in summertime, but now we’re just taking it all as it comes, knowing no matter what, at this point, we won’t be opening at the “ideal” time.

However and whenever Supperland does open, the aesthetic pieces are starting to come together —everything from kitchen equipment to tile, candle holders to silverware and plates to table tops.

One thing’s certain: I’m really glad Jeff and I conceived of the Supperland concept in the height of 2019. That was a “good” year, a year that triggered incredibly big dreams. After these first eight months of 2020, I know the two of us wouldn’t have had the gumption, the creativity, the boldness to do what we’re doing had we thought of it in 2020.

Supperland will be the product of wild hope and dreams — naively spawned from a time when we felt infallible.

Thursday, Aug. 27, 2020

This week, our second restaurant concept, Growlers Pourhouse, crossed the 10 year mark. We opened that corner pub in 2010, in what had been a retail shop, Niche Market — a casualty of the recession. Prior to being Niche Market, that corner space, built in the middle of the century, has been everything from Harrell’s Food Store and Layton’s Sales Company to Villa Heights Furniture and Aardvark Gallery.

For Jeff and I, the retail space was a natural expansion plan — being located next to our first restaurant, Crepe Cellar Kitchen & Pub. The two spots share kitchen space in the back.

When we opened Growlers Pourhouse, we didn’t have the funds to put in a full hood, so we opened with a simple menu of homemade sausage, panini sandwiches and oysters — most of which was prepped at Crepe Cellar. The menu has changed a lot since then.

I’m proud of that place. I’m proud of our team. My favorite thing about Growlers Pourhouse, besides our staff, are the large windows that span North Davidson and 35th streets. I love how you can sit in the windows and nearly be on the street — encased in a brick-walled neighborhood pub. With NoDa coming back to life here at the end of summer, those windows seem to be a very popular place.

Our first week of kindergarten has almost come to a close. I’m getting very accustomed to hearing phrases like: “Unmute yourself, wait wait wait, no honey, I can’t hear you. Unmute yourself first.” Or “Can I see a thumbs up for anyone who has read this book before?” and “Make sure your face is in the screen, sit up, sit still.” Or perhaps the most common: “Teacher? I can’t see the video.”

Ahhhhhhh. Schooling during COVID.

I’ve cracked up seeing the homes of all these kids out there. We’re a mess right now. Every one of us. And I’m glad I’m not alone. We’re all just muddling through this situation hoping that next week might be a tad easier.

Jeff and I are making a pros and cons list about kindergarten and if we should continue as planned, or yank our youngest and home school him. I’ll be honest, I’ve lost my mind a bit this week. I keep forgetting the 10 a.m. math call. I need more alarms. I said to my friend today, “If I pull him, I’ll feel like such a quitter.” She said, “Absolutely no one has ever done what we’re being asked to do. It’s not about quitting, it’s about staying sane and getting through.”

I’ll stop shaming myself. I think she’s right.

We’ll have answers soon. Meantime, happy birthday Growlers Pourhouse, to many more!

Thursday, Aug. 20, 2020

This week has shifted our attention toward school, and all the early mornings, Zoom calls, technology glitches and new schedules that come along with it. It’s late in the week and I’ve learned one thing: We need to get up earlier.

We’re taking the first steps into our new routine, but I’m still uneasy that I might have a kindergarten drop out. He had an assessment Zoom call on Wednesday and he twisted and turned and picked and fiddled the whole time. I’m giving it next week and then we’ll make the call. Maybe he’ll thrive staring at a computer screen, I hope so.

Jeff is in high gear with Supperland, there’s so much work to be done, and it’s moving along beautifully. That leaves me manning the house and the children and our new little school program. I’m keeping my work responsibilities up as best I can, but it isn’t the ideal climate for productivity.

But today … today I got out of the house.

One of the things I love most about my job is taking photos of food. It calms me, grounds me, and lets me be a little creative. I also love that if I’m able to snag some pretty pics, I can help our whole team. Gorgeous photos help drive people in the door to taste something they feast on with their eyes, like a dessert crepe with a perfectly round scoop of ice cream, a sprinkling of candied nuts and a pillow of whipped cream — all drizzled with a dark chocolate zig zag of flavor.

I haven’t taken a lot of photos these days. I just want to stay out of the way, avoid contact, be one less body in the building. But with all of Crepe Cellar’s new menu items, I couldn’t resist. There’s a lot of eye feasting going on with the new dishes — our salmon terrine, the tiramisu crepe cake, the pappardelle pasta, the lobster cake.

I sent the shot list to our executive chef, Steve Kuney, and when I arrived the food was about ready. Chef Andy and Chef Cortland plated up all the dishes and brought them out to my favorite table (the last booth by the windows). The light pours in nicely back there, plus I like the tones of the table top — it’s patched with a variety of light and dark stains.

I lapped up the chance to shoot the food — a tiny sip of these precious pieces of my job — many of which disappeared for the better part of the last five months. I’ve missed it.

Thursday, Aug. 13, 2020

There have been few times on this COVID journey where I’ve known we took the right path. Closing Crepe Cellar last month after an attempted re-opening felt very uncertain at the time. It broke my heart. But I know now, already, that we did the best thing for our team. Just in five weeks of being closed, the dining climate has changed in Charlotte.

It’s mid August, and people are considerably more receptive to dining out. They’re more receptive to take out, too. Everyone is wearing masks and acclimating to new procedures. Our revenue numbers are tracking in line with what we’d expect for 50% capacity. That’s a huge relief.

For a moment, Jeff and I aren’t tripped up by the worry of our restaurants hanging on — if we continue with current figures, we’ll do our part in pulling four of Charlotte’s independent restaurants through COVID. That’s what we’ve battled to do since March. That would be something to be proud of.

That relief has given Jeff and I more time to focus on Supperland — dialing in on menu ideas, meeting with the chefs and finalizing elements of the decor. This week, Jeff and I had our soon-to-be Supperland Executive Chef, Chris Rogienski, and Sous Chef, Russell Headrick, over for a menu chat on our porch. Jeff made elderflower gin & tonics, and hot ham & swiss sammies. We talked until way past dark. I’ve missed the energetic, hopeful, dreamy talk of “what could be.”

This is the week we’re all starting to ramp up for school. A lot of parents are teaming up in pods for socialization purposes, or to share a tutor — but we’ve opted out. And I am still not sure how schooling is going to go for our 5-year-old — I still have home schooling in the back of my mind if there are hours of Zoom calls each day. He won’t sit that long. Tomorrow we’ll do our virtual middle school Open House, then I’ll pile the kids in the car to pick up school packets to get the year started.

We’re going to sleep in the next couple days, savoring this slower time. Monday morning is going to come fast.

Thursday, Aug. 6, 2020

Yesterday, another part of our restaurant machine rattled back to life as both Crepe Cellar and Growlers Pourhouse re-opened. Boxes of Brussels sprouts and Russet potatoes, delivered the day before, got prepped for evening service. The chefs all came in, masked up, took temperatures and shifted by one another, busily readying their stations. Servers tasted new dishes, got our single-use menus stacked and readied supplies for our new cleaning regimens.

It’s like we never left.

But there’s a battle ahead, and we know it. Our goal is just to stay positive, put out great food — for both take out and dine in — and give our best. If there’s one thing Jeff and I have in our businesses, it’s great people who legitimately care. We’re lucky.

Business has started off well, just two days in. That’s our community. That’s our customer base. And we’re going to rely on them more now than ever. I still can’t help but thinking that for each of our restaurants, there are dozens of smaller mom and pop shops struggling even more.

Not that it is the answer to all of our woes, but right now, we are hopeful for the passage of the RESTAURANTS Act, being supported wildly by a new organization, the Independent Restaurant Coalition (IRC). The lobby group is pushing hard to get the Act passed to help all the independent restaurants across the country.

Sadly, at this moment, COVID threatens to close 85% of indie restaurants, and 16 million jobs are at risk.

Just a couple days ago, the IRC sent out a cool video, produced in part by Chef Andrew Zimmern, with the lovely voiceover of Morgan Freeman, I invite you to watch it here. A lot of people in our country have been little-effected financially by COVID, while others have been ransacked. That’s us in the restaurant industry. Anyway, the video is worth a watch, and it’s worth making a quick call or email to your representative too. Learn more about the act here.

Here’s to the joy of opening all our restaurants back up — there is a lot of immediate gratification in getting to do it all over again, the thrill of re-starting something you’re proud of. Silver linings everywhere.

#saverestaurants

Thursday, July 30, 2020

At the beginning of the year, our team launched a new menu at Growlers Pourhouse. We were so excited about it — the items themselves, the momentum of “newness,” the joys of just freshening up the menu at our beloved corner bar, now a decade old. The kitchen was doing a great job, putting out our new items, too: a Maine lobster roll; a new roasted oyster set up with mole salami, Swiss chard and brie; a cauliflower sloppy joe; and our quite buzzy Liquid Nitrogen Burger — prepared literally, in liquid nitrogen.

Not all of these will be on our menu as we open back up. We’ve got to make some business decisions to keep operations running smoothly, keep food costs down, serve a much smaller-sized clientele (with both a 50% capacity restriction and now the 11 p.m. alcohol sales restriction). I’ll speak for our team that we wish we could do our full menu, but we’re grateful also, as a small independent restaurant group, to be opening our doors again.

We’re nailing down the final Growlers Pourhouse menu this weekend. And hours will be scaled back for a time. Both Crepe Cellar and Growlers Pourhouse will both open Wednesday-Sunday.

I’m making a reservation this week for dinner at Crepe Cellar. My daughter wants to celebrate her 11th birthday there, and I’m so glad she’ll be able to get her favorite crepe. I’ll be in heaven, if even for that one hour that we’re cozied up in a booth — celebrating with familiar faces, watching passersby coast by the windows — everything feeling almost back to normal if even for a fleeting moment.

I’m excited we’re opening back up. I’ve missed the energy of that 35th block in NoDa — and I know having two more places open on that short street stretch will help lift all boats.

If you’re wondering how to support us, or honestly, any local restaurants in our community, it’s still the same as it’s been since COVID closings started: orders, tipping, reservations, gift cards. All those things are helpful for any local restaurant right now. Trust me, support is needed all over this city.

As July crosses over into August, Jeff and I are figuring out what “normal” is going to look like as school begins with a full remote option, all our restaurants once again ramp up operations in this incredibly handcuffed environment, and Supperland inches closer and closer to opening.

Thursday July 23, 2020

This week, Charlotte restaurants can no longer serve alcohol past 11 p.m. Of course, like with everything else in this time, there are a lot of mixed feelings. It’s another stab to the industry, giving restaurant businesses an even more severe limp as we lumber through COVID. But on the other side, many of us just want to take any measures necessary to stop the spread and get back to “normal” as soon as we can.

Truthfully, it’s been hard to watch hundreds of people in closed-in places take on Charlotte’s nightlife scene, as our businesses get drained of another week of sales, and the disease continues to spread.

We’ll surely take another financial hit with this new alcohol restriction, especially as we’re about to reopen our craft beer bar and restaurant, Growlers Pourhouse, sometime the week of Aug. 3. We rely heavily on alcohol sales. But, if this modification allows COVID numbers to turn around faster, we’re on board.

Jeff and I are still clinging to hope there will be a plan in place to help all of us independent restaurants through—especially now with this new alcohol restriction—we’re legally handicapped as a business, and the only way for many of us to make it is with aid.

I sometimes hate saying that. Aren’t we just supposed to work harder?

I guess we all need help at times.

On the education front, I’ve received a flurry of texts from parents looking to get their kids into organized, small groups for the school year to start in a couple of weeks. Parents want to pull together and share the responsibility of hosting the kids one day a week, so the students will have a few friends to journey with during this unusual school year.

Jeff and I haven’t decided what we’re going to do yet. I guess we better get thinking.

Thursday, July 16, 2020

This is a momentous week for Charlotteans.

As I was finishing up my new morning exercise routine, I splayed out on our concrete porch, eeking out another set of sit ups. My neighbor walked by. “What do think about the announcement?” he asked.

I hadn’t seen it yet.

CMS schools will only be offering a remote learning option for students. Also, as we’ve known since Tuesday, we’re staying in Phase 2 another three weeks.

This means a lot, but mostly it means everything is staying the same for a long while ahead.

On the education front, I’m a mom of three. Even though it’s a lot easier to just drop my kids off for a full school day and go and tend to my professional obligations, I can work flexibly. I can be here to coordinate Zoom calls and assignment instructions and any technology mishaps. I’m not worried about my kids.

But what about the youth who don’t have healthy families, or whose parents have to work all day and these children are at home fending for themselves? The education gap is in serious danger of widening exponentially this year. I find myself feeling helpless, overwhelmed, knowing there’s a sea of children who need assistance.

On the restaurant front, day by day, two of our spots, Haberdish and Reigning Doughnuts, are hanging on. We’re another week in, and these two businesses, with access to outdoor spaces, are doing okay.

But Crepe Cellar and Growlers Pourhouse are just a couple weeks away from attempting another reopening, and there’s a lot for Jeff and I to think about. There’s no reason for us to expect sales will be any easier to come by than they were when we attempted reopening June 9th. We were hoping COVID numbers would be improving by now, but they’re only worsening.

Restaurants like these two—independent spots without outdoor dining—are going to continue to get hit hard.

This week we joined a call with several other restaurant leaders to talk with Congresswoman Alma Adams’s team about the RESTAURANTS Act of 2020, trying to garner support for the bill.

On the call were local Charlotte restaurateurs like William Dissen, Chris Coleman, Greg Collier and our North Carolina Captain, Katy Kindred. There were also several regional farmers who joined. We shared stories and concerns, and it was comforting to hear that everyone else is battling the same issues we are—at least we’re in good company. But truthfully, it’s also really scary because these are some of the most prominent restaurateurs in our city and every one of our places is in jeopardy if we don’t get more help.

Anyone wanting to support local restaurants (throughout the country) can reach out to his or her congressional representative and let them know they support the RESTAURANTS Act of 2020. There are millions of jobs at stake, along with the risk of losing innumerable independent restaurants that have become a central piece of our thriving communities.

Learn more about the RESTAURANTS Act here.

July 10, 2020

This past Tuesday, about 15 of us gathered in the cocktail bar at Supperland — a champagne tasting and tour for our local financial backers. Individually portioned plates sat diagonally across what will become our quartz bar top. Plates with marcona almonds, triangles of triple cream cheese, fresh honeycomb and tin mackerel pates. Our sommelier brought three different champagnes to taste.

With masks wrapped around the backsides of our heads or encircling our ears, we walked in a spaced-out mob through the property — the main dining room, the show kitchen, downstairs in the basement and around the exterior of the building.

Some things in my life feel almost normal. Most still do not.

Still, two of our restaurants are closed. A bunch of our staff is splayed out all over the city, none of us having a unifying place in NoDa to come to anymore. I sometimes reach back trying to pull forward what it felt like to have bustling restaurants and a more predictable life, but I’m starting to forget.

All our kids’ camps have been canceled, but the weeks at home with them are passing fast. I’ve learned to make a dozen plus new recipes from ceviche to cauliflower gnocchi to blueberry crumble. My youngest is mastering his sight words. He’s also able to ride his bike now. The two older kids can empty the dishwasher, and they’re practicing Italian each day on the computer and building a new city with their Lego collection.

As the summer heat continues, we all feel unrest about the COVID numbers. Maybe we’re in too deep. Maybe we have a lot longer to go. Crossing into Phase 3 isn’t looking promising. Knowing our personal financial situation, I have no idea how we’re going to get all of Charlotte’s independent restaurants through this crisis — it’s lasting a lot longer than we all thought, and the end is still not in sight.

At the beginning of COVID, I likened this journey to a storm at sea and we just needed to get the ship to the other side. Now with Crepe Cellar and Growlers Pourhouse still closed, and COVID numbers looking bleak, it’s starting to feel a little more like we’re carrying the ship on our backs. I know we’re not alone. All our independent restaurant owners share the same plight. We’re all navigating as best we can, knowing that it is probably only in hindsight that we will know the path we should have taken.

Thursday June 25, 2020

We thought the most difficult decisions were behind us. But the struggle of COVID continues to bring up new challenges.

It’s been about a month since restaurants were allowed to reopen for dine-in in North Carolina. Everything is supposed to be feeling a little more normal. For us, it’s not normal at all. Our next steps as a restaurant group will be taken without one of our most valuable assets — our restaurant Crepe Cellar Kitchen & Pub. We gave dine-in a shot for two weeks, however, we are unable to sustain the business with current numbers.

Last weekend, as our family walked around our tree-lined neighborhood streets, Jeff told me we needed to temporarily pause all operations at Crepe Cellar. We need to save resources to give it a better chance in the long term to reopen when metrics improve.

We had our concerns about re-opening Crepe Cellar as a small, cozy, closed in space, so we were watching numbers closely. We didn’t think we’d have to do this, but we wanted to do it quickly rather than smolder for weeks or months.

Sadness and frustration swirl with helplessness — and not knowing what we could have done differently. I’m frustrated because our team has done so much to prepare and pivot. We’ve worked hard to get through three months of just takeout. I’m sad because Crepe Cellar is so dear to me, and I don’t want it to struggle. I know some places are hanging on more easily right now (Haberdish, for example), and I want this restaurant to be one of them. It’s not.

As a couple facing these ups and downs of a business, Jeff and I are embracing what we do have. While Crepe Cellar is pausing, and Growlers Pourhouse never even attempted a re-opening, Reigning Doughnuts will continue to operate as a pickup window with online ordering options. And Haberdish will remain open with those gigantic barn doors and spacious patio. The chefs at Haberdish have also been working hard to create some new dishes for guests. They’re worth a try:

A Bunch of Bologna - Weaver’s Lebanon pan-fried bologna, local cheese, Haberdish mustard, pickles

Charred Artichoke - parmesan, toasted benne dressing, parsley, lemon

Smoked Trout Salad - dill, Haberdish mustard sauce, pickled red onions, everything seasoning, fried saltines

Pan-Charred Cauliflower - sunflower seed and roasted red pepper sauce, toasted sunflower seeds, scallions

Braised Rainbow Carrots - charred parsley crema, candied benne seeds

Jeff and I might be pausing operations at Crepe Cellar, but we remain hopeful that this difficult decision will give us stronger legs to climb out soon. As a fellow Charlotte restaurateur said, “There’s no playbook for this.”

Thursday June 11, 2020

We re-opened Crepe Cellar and Haberdish on Tuesday, June 9. I have a swirling of feelings in my head. I’m tremendously grateful to have been able to start dine-in service again. In the wake of hearing that beloved local restaurant, Carpe Diem, is not re-opening, I just feel thankful to have the opportunity to keep tending to these restaurants I love.

I also feel unsure. COVID numbers continue to rise in our state. Our team has put together a tremendous plan for ensuring safety, and from here we’ll just stay flexible and be ready to adopt new procedures as suggested by the Health Department.

I also feel excited and energized that we’ve made it through these last several months. Our team is even more resilient, and so many of our staff members returned to work. I had no idea what it would feel like to see their faces again and to hear their names again.

Everything went pretty smoothly the first night — except that five minutes before Crepe Cellar was supposed to open, the soda line exploded. Jeff was there to get it under control. These are the bumps of not being open for three months.

From here, and moving onward toward growth and recovery, our team is in a pretty good spot now to begin again. With the PPP funds getting extended to 24 weeks, our chefs getting new menus in place and us now offering both dine-in and takeout, we’ve got more to hold on to — we’ve tightened our grip on the rope.

Today, I want to give a shout out to the Black-owned businesses right there on the 35th block of North Davidson. For years, we have all been building our livelihoods in that neighborhood, and I’m so proud to get to work alongside them:

Pop Bar Charlotte

Juice Box

She-Luv-A Salon

Ashleigh P Hair Studio LINK: https://www.ashleighphairstudio.com

Roy’s Kitchen & Patio (formerly Mangos, coming soon)

Thursday May 28, 2020

Jeff and I went for a drive that first night that restaurants were allowed to re-open — May 22. Slowly meandering around town, windows down, reminded me of when we were young. The two of us used to dreamily coast around our Charlotte neighborhoods, watching the nightlife, trying to figure out where to open our first restaurant. Fast-forward 10 years and we’re gawking out the window seeking clues on how to re-open the four restaurants we have.

Some spots had diners, others were pretty sparse. People seemed to prefer outdoor tables. There were more people out than we expected.

A week has passed. North Carolina continues to open back up. At our house, we’ve deliberated and argued and discussed. We’ve researched. We’ve phoned friends. We’ve gone back and forth.

Now, our team is getting prepped for our re-opening. It’s happening.

There are so many details we’ve worked through — many specific to this strange time.

We’ve created new table set-ups at Haberdish and Crepe Cellar — keeping to the 50% capacity restrictions and 6 feet of distance between parties. We’re installing plexiglass at the bars at both restaurants. We’re reinstating the sanitation protocols we had adopted right before we closed up our dining rooms — but with additional measures. All staff will wear masks and gloves in the building. We will offer contact-free payment options with a QR code on the receipt. We will have dedicated bussers at the tables.

We’ve sent out a notice to all our staff about the plan. It’s coming.

As a family business, we’re doing this in steps. Reigning Doughnuts will open back up with walk-up window service starting June 2. Haberdish and Crepe Cellar will re-open with a “reservation only” system beginning June 9 (reservations will open up one week prior). Growlers Pourhouse will open up June 30, details to come. We’re still offering takeout.

Jeff and I have no idea what the response will be to dining in, but we’re staying hopeful. Everyone else in town is going through these doubts and concerns, too. It’s time to jump in and see what happens.

Thursday May 21, 2020

Our dining rooms have been closed for nine weeks. We’ve been in a holding pattern, waiting for our city and our state to decide when it’s OK to re-open. The verdict is out — the day is tomorrow — May 22, 2020.

I can’t help having mixed feelings. Our business has tanked — we worked a decade to build up to where we are — and we don’t have that much time left. I also want to keep our community healthy, our staff healthy, our family healthy.

Mid-March, we let go of 85 people, and we pivoted quickly — within 24 hours — to a takeout only model. We’ve held still, quiet — hanging by a thinning string the past couple months. Our shell-of-a team has made it work with 20% of our “normal” revenue. We’ve done what we could … introducing cocktail kits, keeping morale up, working with nonprofits to get meals to hospital workers, trying to stay connected with our customers virtually.

In a way, it’s surreal that so much time has passed. Like every other mom in town, I’ve connected with old friends on Zoom. I’ve cooked and cleaned and scrubbed and educated. I’ve set up Legos, gone on scavenger hunts and worked my day job between meals and cleanup time. Then, I’ve gotten up the next day to do it all again. It’s COVID. That’s what we do.

Now Jeff and I are faced with next steps for our businesses. On Friday, May 22, restaurants in NC will be permitted to open. We can open at 50% capacity.

We met with a tiny team to talk through a wild variety of questions: How do we keep our large, cross-trained staff in smaller contact circles? Should we install plexiglass at the bar area? Should we order disposable salt and pepper packets for dine-in food orders? How do we keep doing takeout through the window and have diners at tables nearby? What materials do we need to create to train our staff to navigate this new environment and new set of potential issues? Which of our restaurants should open —and which should hold off?

Again, it’s like venturing into a new business model. We had to do this two months ago when we were told to close our doors. We’re doing it now as we figure out how to reopen.

While I’d like to only feel celebratory that our city has reached this milestone, right now, I’m sheathed with apprehension. Maybe it’s because I’m a mom. Maybe it’s because our family has lost a lot in this. Maybe it’s just because of fear — whether merited or not. Some restaurants in town will open tomorrow— and I don’t judge them or blame them. I’m not envious either. We’re all just trying to get through, taking whatever approach we feel can get us to the other side.

I’m asking for bravery. I’m asking for hope. I’m asking for patience. And I’m betting on the grace of our staff and community.

We will re-open, we’re just not going to do it right away.

Thursday May 14, 2020

Only in a time of COVID does a popular craft beer bar turn into a full wood shop. The shelves behind the bar at Growlers Pourhouse are empty. The liquor has been removed. It’s been locked up since mid-March. It’s been locked up since our doors closed.

We’re still selling some of our most popular menu items through our online ordering system — Bring the Queen — but even those items are mostly prepared over in the attached kitchen at Crepe Cellar. Growlers is a pretty quiet place these days. It’s a little somber when I’ve walked in there — the energy of that place has seeped out the gigantic wooden door and the floor-to-ceiling windows that look out to the usually-thumping NoDa streets.

Our once-packed bar has been near-lifeless the past couple months. But now, it has the sounds of progress, the sounds of building. There’s the humming of drills, the murmur of men assembling furniture, and the clashing of wood pieces as they’re bolted together.

All of our backbar and server station cabinetry for Supperland is being built there in the wide-open room. We’ll transport each piece to Plaza Midwood as its finished.

I guess it’s just comforting that the Growlers space is being used for growth and hope and creation. Plus, I’ve gotten word that this weekend we’re planning on adding the very-popular Lobster Roll from Growlers on to the Bring the Queen online ordering system. That’ll be a win.

Slowly, slowly, coming back to life.

Another school week ends tomorrow, and teachers have alerted us that none of the children will be getting grades this semester. Just one more unusual side effect of this pandemic. Summer is around the corner, but it has me wondering about what the beginning of next school year will look like.

Wednesday May 13, 2020

It’s a huge blessing for our family that we have the Supperland buildout right now. There’s a lot of uncertainly around it — not knowing what restaurants are going to look like in the coming months — but we keep taking steps forward in faith that someday our city will be able to return to normal. That might be a long time. Our vision is steadfast though. We’re creating Supperland in COVID, but we’re creating Supperland to last for decades beyond COVID.

Supperland is giving us hope. It is giving us a project. It is giving us something to build. It is giving us something to look forward to.

One of my favorite parts in building a new restaurant are the intentional design touches. At Haberdish, we have a soap stone bar top from Virginia. We have NC selvedge denim on our upholstered booths. The tables are made from the very rafters of that old building — the original general store of the North Davidson community.

We’ll have details like this over at Supperland — but they’ll be telling a different story.

One of the most colorful elements coming to Supperland are our plates. Jeff and I sought plates out for months — and then we decided to take a different direction. We’re designing our own plates with the brilliant artistry of a London-based artist. We’ve asked her to use southern gardens — including foliage, birds, insects and produce — as inspiration. Jeff and I want them to be fun and colorful and a little unexpected. We want to spoil our diners with thoughtfulness. :)

In my mind I vividly imagine those custom plates on our hand-crafted NC hickory tables, and it gives me great joy that someday, we’ll have flurries of people dining with us, enjoying what we built — a restaurant that was created in this very quiet, solitary, uncertain time.

Tuesday May 12, 2020

Our restaurant team is in a holding pattern, anticipating May 22 (the anticipated start of Phase II re-openings). We’re waiting to seeing how our state will fare with COVID and Phase I changes in the coming weeks.

Jeff and I keep talking about what we’ll do with our restaurants — but we still don’t have a plan. I think we have a lot of trepidation with this thing. Our minds are all over the place. It’s uncertainty. It’s fear of what happened. It’s not wanting it to happen again. We’re racing through questions like: What is demand for restaurant dine-in going to be? Will we be able to turn a profit with decreased capacity? Will employees want to return to work? Do we want to expand everyone’s “bubbles” of physical contacts so immensely and so soon?

For now, we’re taking the pressure off and sort of ignoring the fact that in a couple of weeks restaurants may be able to partially open. We want to wait and see.

Today, Jeff will be woodworking all day — so I’m manning Zoom calls, lunch time, homework, snacks and outdoor time. I’m glad it’s Take-out Tuesday, and I don’t have to prep dinner. We’ve been making it a habit to play tennis on Tuesday afternoons and then go directly to pick up food from the Bring the Queen window.

I’m looking forward to our Take-out Tuesday call tonight. It has been a nice sectioned-off time for Jeff and I to be together. Plus, this week, we’re bringing on Chef Chris Rogienski. He’s going to be our executive chef at Supperland. Tonight he’ll chat about his culinary inspiration, being a chef during COVID and also his thoughts on Supperland — the menu and the concept.

At the time he’ll be joining us (around 7:15 p.m.), he never would have been able to step away from his usual Haberdish shift. That’s right at the typical pop of our dinner time. But not right now. Orders are in earlier, and the numbers of orders remain manageable for just a couple of kitchen staff. I know the whole team is excited to return to a time of eager customers, a heavy list of orders and rising adrenaline. We’ll get there, someday — it just probably won’t be this month.

Monday May 11, 2020

Jeff drove to Lenoir, NC, today to pick up our cut pieces of cabinetry so he can begin assembling the server’s stations and cocktail bar storage over at Supperland. Jeff designed all the cabinetry with CAD drawings. Our booth maker is cutting everything down to proper size. This week, Jeff will start to put it all together the way he planned. He has roped off an area at Growlers Pourhouse for woodworking, and that’s where he’ll spend the next couple of days. Peek in the windows if you’re passing by.

The kids and I went for a bike ride today to check out one of the “Shared Streets” in town. The one nearest us is the Romany Road path. We biked back and forth from Myrtle Ave to Kenilworth and then enjoyed our snacks of roasted almonds and plantain chips in the grass at the base of St. Pat’s church. The kids flew down the grassy hill, one after the next, seeing how far they could coast without using their brakes. Then they walked through the creek.

As I sat among the clovers, I began daydreaming about summertime, and what it’s going to look like for us. Mostly I’m thinking about how I can make a fun, enriching time for the kids without the help of sleep-away camp, half-day soccer camps and even the bliss of the swimming pool. I’m thinking a campout in our yard, more bike rides to picnic spots and sprinklers in the yard.

My kids have gotten cozier over this time — staying physically closer to Jeff and I the last two months. Staying close probably means staying safe — and I’m pretty sure they’ll all be fans of a slow, simple summer. It’s me who needs to let it all go.

Sunday May 10, 2020

Happy Mother’s Day. And Happy Birthday to my husband.

This morning we woke up to chattery, whispering voices doing busy, quiet things. A little while later, Jeff and I were both brought breakfast in bed. They had made over easy eggs for Jeff. With my AIP diet, I was served a whole avocado, coconut chips and a piece of leftover bacon. They made tea. They even tied little red checkered ribbons around our paper towel napkins.

They also brought the three gluten free doughnuts I had purchased at Sunflour yesterday for themselves. We all ate in bed.

Upon finishing breakfast, we were pulled downstairs by eager hands. They had decorated. There were streamers draping the stairs and spanning across our kitchen pendants. They had made cards and small crafts — and even a dual-sided card that said “Happy Mother’s Day” on one side, and “Happy Birthday Daddy” on the other. I particularly liked the craft with a puffy kitten sticker on it. My youngest said it was a “Listening Cat.”

It’s a happy day, and it’s made me ponder about the act of mothering during COVID. Things have changed. These were a few of the most noteworthy things that came to mind for me:

Pulling myself into the present. Our tomorrows don’t matter as much right now. I’m just tending to today. As a family, we’re not making astronomical progress, but at the end of the day, we’re fed and we’re all living in a loving home. It is enough.

Take care of the big things first. Every morning when I wake up, I open my hands at my sides and I thank God that no one woke up with a fever or coughing. We get another day together — a healthy day together. That is the single biggest priority.

Letting the kids see the ugly. Our businesses aren’t what they used to be. Our kids have witnessed the downfall — the change, the worries, the work. They’ll take data points with them as they grow. In difficult times, we need to rely on each other more, we need to rise, we need to have grace, we need to see how we can help others. They are watching this first hand.

Letting go. Absolutely no one is coming to my house — so if a block castle needs to stay up an extra day, it’s OK. It is enough right now to just be together and be healthy.

Spending “quantity” time together. There is no passing children off to school or activities. It is no longer a community effort. Parenting falls completely on … parents. I’m getting to treasure a slower paced time with these little people. I recognize there might never be a time like this again.

Encouraging responsibility. I was struggling with how to teach my kids basic home responsibilities. I don’t have to struggle anymore. The need is real. There’s no one else to help. Now the kids can switch the laundry, make their beds, pick up the yard, empty the dishwasher (or at least the silverware for my five year old), wash pots and pans, and sweep the house.

Some of these changes could only happen in a time like this — of hardship, of a slower pace, of different expectations. I wonder how else this time will mold our youth — just as hardships shaped every other generation before.

Saturday May 9, 2020

This is a weekend of celebrations for us. Mother’s Day is of course on Sunday — but it’s also Jeff’s birthday. The kids will pay no mind to Jeff on Mother’s Day. I know that. So we’re celebrating his 44th today.

Around 7:30 am this morning, Jeff rolled out of bed and stepped out into the cool morning air. He had his coffee mug in hand, and a zipped up sweatshirt. It’s a cooler day today — but he’s got to get the smoker started. He’s doing a smoked pork butt for his birthday dinner.

All day today, our yard will have the lovely smell of slow-cooking smoke.

I turned over a new leaf today. All the take-out we have gotten thus far has been from our restaurants. It’s just been an easy way to check in on our places, taste menu items, support our staff and keep our bubble small.

But I switched it up today since we have a celebration dinner this evening. I called in an assorted box of gluten free treats from Sunflour Bakery.

I walked up East Blvd to grab the desserts — my gloves and mask in hand. On the way, I passed Paper Skyscraper. The beloved Charlotte retail spot had about 17 people waiting outside, nearly every one masked. I didn’t see how many people were allowed inside, but everyone seemed content to wait.

One block further, I approached Sunflour, slipped on my gloves and covered my face with a mask. I walked inside and up to the counter.

We smile with our eyes now. We also have to annunciate better, and more loudly, because we can’t read lips.

They had my order ready with everything from coconut macaroons covered in chocolate to doughnuts to a cheesecake, an icing stuffed oatmeal cookie sandwich and lemon-blueberry cupcakes.

Tonight we’re hosting a social distancing outdoor cookout for the first time, with two dear friends. We’ll spread out on our back deck, and share time over BBQ, baked beans, roasted corn and tater tots (one of Jeff’s favorites).

Capping off the birthday celebration — we’ll slice all those desserts into bites and create sampler plates. Everyone will get to taste everything. It’s looking like a night where no one will possibly go hungry.

Friday May 8, 2020

Today at 5 p.m., Charlotte took a big step forward to begin the process of opening back up. As a mom —and also as a business owner who has been punched in the face financially by COVID — I’m going to watch the coming two weeks from afar. I don’t plan on making changes or visiting any stores or offices. I kind of want to see how it all goes.

It’s interesting how imbalanced the burden of COVID is. The disease strikes the weakest the worst. The battle on germs is being fought primarily by our healthcare workers. Then there are the businesses who have had to suffer disproportionate financial hits in order to safeguard against greater disease transmission. COVID hasn’t hit everyone the same.

Some businesses are even catapulting in this time. Everyone uses Zoom now. Third-party delivery services are thriving. And online lessons and courses have become our way of learning.

My sister, Kerry, started a cookie mix company about six months ago. The mixes are all geared toward people who eat the Autoimmune Protocol diet (AIP). It’s the same diet I’ve been on the past year and a half — though my eating regimen is even more strict. Her company, Eat Gangster, is one of the businesses that are seeing a tremendous amount of growth.

People are cooking and baking at home more. They have time to make homemade treats. They want the simplicity of a mix. Her sales have been growing every week since COVID “stay at home” orders began. It’s hard to tell if the business will continue to grow as cities start to open back up … but if nothing else, she’s getting the opportunity to increase trial on her product, gain retail accounts and even launch a new item— pancake & waffle mix.

I happen to be one of her product testers. The other day Kerry mailed me some mixes. With a lot of cooking time at home, we made them into pancakes for breakfast. The feedback … Jeff loved the flavor. We thought the recipe could use a little more water. It might have been a touch too sweet as a base mix. The only kid complaint: They wanted more.

It’s pretty clear. There are winners when a radical change (like COVID) descends upon us. There are losers too. As our city begins to re-open, we’ll be watching history unfold. Jeff and I have our eyes open to see how we’re going to need to bend with our restaurant processes. We’re keenly studying what will return to normal, what will need to change, what will need to dissolve.

We’re ready to make changes, but our focus right now is on observation. Honestly, the COVID punch left us a bit apprehensive. For Phase 1 here in North Carolina, we’ll be watching from the comfort of our house.

Thursday May 7, 2020

COVID closings and COVID re-openings are bringing small businesses problems they’ve never seen before. My heart goes out to the businesses that tried to successfully put out hundreds of orders for Cinco de Mayo on Tuesday night. It’s hard to win in a situation like that.

I get it first hand, too. We faced a lot of these issues last Saturday when we re-opened Reigning Doughnuts for the first time. There were complaints and refunds. There were longer waits. Our problems were just on a smaller scale versus what those restaurants had to face May 5th.

Right now, takeout demand is sporadic. Restaurants rely on forecasting and year-over-year planning. There’s no data for us to plan from.

Some trends are anticipated, others are completely out of the blue.

I couldn’t have guessed, for instance, that there would be a significant disparity in our Mother’s Day pre-orders versus Easter pre-orders. When we were open for dine-in, both holidays are equally busy. But during COVID, Easter orders far outweigh Mother’s Day orders. It probably has to do with the way we can celebrate. Typically, if you’re celebrating Mother’s Day, you’re with your mom. A lot of us are visiting virtually right now, so I think that impacted demand for Mother’s Day pre-orders. We’re still selling — but not like Easter.

There’s just a lot of unexpected quirks to business right now. Every small business — no matter the type — is going to need patience. We’re all facing issues we’ve never encountered. There’s a tremendous amount of pent up demand. There’s also a lot of angst around health and well-being.

I think the best thing we can do for our local economy is to be patient and be kind. It’s OK to ask for a refund. It’s OK to call and cancel because of a long line. It’s OK to walk away from a space if social distancing is not being heeded. But for the sake of all of our mom and pop shops in Charlotte, I’m hopeful we can all address these issues respectfully and with grace. Our community has a lot of doors to re-open in the coming months. Let’s work together to do it successfully.

Wednesday May 6, 2020

I woke up this morning and found myself missing our staff terribly. In this business, it’s not like we’re all the best of friends all the time. We don’t all share lunches and coffee breaks. We’re often running in a hundred different directions — just like everyone else. But this morning I missed individual faces, and I missed the whole idea of “everyone,” too.

The restaurant business is inherently “social” — it’s about guests and hospitality, but its also about the family you make in that working space.

The kids hadn’t woken up yet, and I picked up my cell phone. For 30 minutes, I browsed through old pictures and videos. I threw some of them together in a Splice video. I made a mash-up specifically for our Haberdish crew, but I have found some lovely shots of our Crepe Cellar, Growlers and Reigning Doughnuts team, too. I’ll work on that one next.

I’m just missing people today.

We arranged a social distancing reading play date with one of our neighborhood friends. We all got blankets and sat in the yard to read. I read three “Star Wars” books about the First Order and Darth Vader and BB8. I also read a Doc McStuffins story, a book about a boa constrictor and even one about a zombie.

I really just wanted to read my latest issue of “Bon Apetit.”

As we rested distantly on strewn blankets, we were apart, but we were together.

Late this afternoon, I got to do a Zoom call with my family. I have seven siblings. We tried to arrange the meeting in advance, but we ended up having to rely upon my 10-year-old to get the system set up at the last minute. I felt like my father-in-law, holding FaceTime up to my forehead. These kids just “get” technology. Not me.

We called in from our various homes — connected across a screen — from cities including New York, Atlanta and Nashville to Charlotte, Pittsburgh and even Spain.

As far apart as we all need to be, I’m grateful for the novel ways we can still get together.

Tuesday May 5, 2020

I never thought I’d do a photoshoot with a face mask on. I pumped gas with a glove on. I walk in the grass on the outside edge of concrete to give people space. I wipe down my groceries. I leave mail for days before picking it up. I ask other children to not play with my children at the creek.

This is 2020. This is what we do.

My mind is jumping ahead to Friday, and the curiosity of what will ensue once Phase 1 of opening our city begins. Will people be able to stay safe? Will our COVID numbers rise astronomically? Will we be able to hit all our benchmarks in Phase 1 to get to Phase 2? How long can we hold out economically until issues with poverty and financial instability take an even more serious hold?

As a restaurant owner, the idea of opening back up feels dichotomous. We’re at the mercy of a lot of positive outcomes. We’re also charged with making wise decisions for our community, staff and business overall. Point blank: At this juncture, we don’t have a foolproof plan. We know we cannot open until Phase 2, but with the limitations on dine-in seating, even then, we may choose to wait. Obviously any business like ours needs the revenue — but in this worrisome time, our re-opening date is still very much up in the air.

This evening, Gov. Roy Cooper will communicate more clearly these phased time periods, and the restrictions on business openings. That’ll get us closer to answers, but really, we’ll all just have to wait and see. In two or three weeks we’ll know more.

It’s Cinco de Mayo, and Jeff and I are planning our take-out for Take-Out Tuesday. We’ll go live at 7 p.m. from the Haberdish instagram account. He’s going to make an el Tesoro cocktail and enjoy one of our Taco Kits from Bring the Queen. I’m planning on the salmon, and I might drop it into lettuce tacos with homemade simple guacamole and fresh cilantro. Might as well embrace the celebratory holiday.

Cheers, happy Cinco de Mayo.

Monday, May 4, 2020

In our restaurant world, this is always a big week. Mother’s Day is coming up on Sunday. We’d be planning specials, bringing in flowers and scheduling extra staff for one of our biggest days of the year. Mother’s Day is a huge dine out day because it gives mom that much needed break. There’s no cooking or cleaning. There can be cocktails — and dishes that are difficult to make at home — like Eggs Benedict. Maybe there’s even a homemade dessert treat.

Typically there’s no fight to get people out the door for the special meal. Kids generally comb their hair. They know to get dressed properly without a fuss.

It’ll be a different week for all of us — for moms, but also for all our local restaurants. I love seeing what other kitchens around town are doing. We’re all wading through the same mire together, and I’m inspired by the fresh ideas I see.

Halcyon and Something Classic are doing a Carolina Picnic and a Sunday Spread. The Carolina picnic even comes with a bouquet of flowers. Jon Dressler’s group is doing some delicious sounding seafood options for moms — like a lobster and crab quiche. I’m drooling. Sea Level NC is doing Take-and-Bake meals with prime rib or country ham, along with flapjacks or waffles. I like that because you can make your meal any time that day.

In NoDa, our chefs have teamed up to do a collaboration meal — it is available at both haberdish.com and bringthequeen.com. Here’s the menu:

Main: Herb De Provence Rubbed Pork Loin with Lavender Velouté

Salad: Mixed Local Greens, Cucumber, Shallots, Golden Raisins and Spiced Walnuts with Green Garlic Vinaigrette

Side 1: Roasted Fingerling Potatoes with Fresh Herb Butter, Garlic and Parmesan Cheese

Side 2: Roasted Cauliflower over Cauliflower Purée, topped with Chives, Black Pepper and Bacon Lardons

Dessert: Cinnamon Shortcake with Macerated Strawberries, Fresh Mint and Local Honey Whipped Cream

We just opened up for orders this morning. Easter pre-orders were a big success, so we’re hoping to get some good traction for this special holiday, too. One thing I love that hasn’t changed? Whether our dining room is open or closed, if you have dietary restrictions, just email us. We’ll make something special just for you.

Sunday, May 3, 2020

Opening up the doughnut shop has had all the bumps and bruises of a new start. We had a lot of orders. Our team got slammed. Some people had to wait longer than we wanted.

We’re now trying to figure out new business processes — some of which are normal considerations, and some have to do with issues we’ve never faced before. The “normal” issues will be addressed starting tomorrow when we start accepting orders for next Saturday. We’re going to space out orders more, for one. We got slammed between 9:30 and 10:30 a.m., and some guests showed up early and we didn’t account for that potential issue. That made other guests wait longer.

Tomorrow we have a new plan—we’ll accept fewer orders in each time slot. We’ll also have to monitor Saturday pick up better—so guests don’t pick up too much earlier than their specified time. That will take a little bit of finesse. These are all fairly expected business process modifications for a new beginning.

But we’re also looking for better ways to maintain social distancing for pick up. Jeff chalked out spots for guests so that everyone could be staged in line, six feet apart. Next week we’ll extend the chalk marks down the street—in both directions—so everyone has clear spaces.

I suppose every business is dealing with adopting new procedures in this time.

We had some of our loyal customers. We had some new customers, too. I’m grateful for every one of them. Overall, guests seemed thrilled to have a destination, and particularly with the reward of hot doughnuts.

Carman and Sarah Jean did an awesome job staying steady and on the course getting 150+ boxes out to customers. And our whole team is ready to be back at it again this week—improvements in hand, excited to do an even better job.

Saturday, May 2, 2020

With all of us dealing with different levels of anxiety these days, I wanted to share a coping secret. It has taken me about a year and a half of being on a ridiculously strict diet to finally come to a place where I know what to eat (and not eat) to keep “chronic” anxiety away. I have bought fully in to the idea that for many people, chronic anxiety is a physical response, manifesting itself as a mental issue.

There is more and more research coming out about this cutting edge topic.

For me, sugar of any kind is a big trigger—impacting my mind eight hours after ingestion. But I have come to use “diabetic tricks” from my twin sister, Kerry, who is a Type 1 diabetic. She always eats fat with her meals. She eats smaller meals. Exercise and movement helps to stabilize her blood sugar too.

All of these lifestyle tweaks have been a part of my journey using food as medicine. But, something that recently came across my radar—that has been inordinately helpful for me—is eating shellfish. If you’re interested in learning more, read this New York Times article about how certain foods can effect our anxiety levels.

Especially in a time of higher outside anxiety triggers, I make a recipe for clam chowder every week or two to keep up my clam intake. The other great thing is that clams can be bought canned, so they’re shelf stable. We’re all looking for that benefit these days.

This is a fully Autoimmune Protocol (AIP) friendly recipe—and it is a thinner consistency than a traditional chowder—but the flavor is rich and creamy.

AIP Clam Chowder

Ingredients:

2 tbsp chives

1/2 cup carrots—chopped small

1/2 cup onions—chopped small

1/2 cup celery—chopped small

1 cup cauliflower—chopped small

2 tbsp Coconut oil

2 6 oz cans of baby clams - drained (but save the liquid for the soup)

1/2 box bone broth

1 can coconut milk

Salt to taste

3 slices of Bacon (watch for additives and sugar curing) for garnish

Directions:

Chop all vegetables into small pieces—the chives as well. Set aside chives for a garnish.

In a large soup pot, heat up the coconut oil and add the carrots, onions, celery. Sauté for 5 minutes. Add chopped cauliflower. Cover, let sweat for 15 minutes. Mix occasionally.

In separate pan, sauté the drained clams for 5 minutes (don’t forget to keep the clam juice). Then add the clams to the vegetable mix. Add the bone broth and the clam juice to the soup. Bring to a boil.

Cook Bacon according to instructions—in pan or oven. Set aside.

After the soup comes to a boil, remove from heat. Let cool 10 minutes and stir in coconut milk. Top with crispy bacon and serve.

Friday, May 1, 2020

We’ve had tremendous support for our new assorted doughnut boxes at Reigning Doughnuts. There are so many scheduled pick ups in the nine o’clock hour on Saturday, that now, the earliest available pick up time is 11am. We’ve had to bring on an outside “Greeter” for the day. She’ll maintain social distancing for those picking up. She’ll also ensure all boxes are doled out in an orderly fashion.

Pulling another person back on to our team for a purpose like this feels amazing. One job at a time.

This time of COVID is modifying many of our business processes. Some of them we’ll adopt for the long haul. I’m sure this will happen for other businesses, too. We now know online pre-orders for doughnut boxes work. We’ve never done this before. That’s valuable learning.

If you come by our walk-up window this weekend, be sure to wave to Carman and Sarah Jean. They’re the ones getting the doughnut shop back off the ground. It’s tight quarters in there, and we could only open up with two people who live together—there isn’t enough space for six feet of social distancing. Carman Spadaro is our Executive Chef at Haberdish. Sarah Jean Long is our Manager at Reigning Doughnuts. They’re engaged. They’re also the ones to thank that you’ll have fresh doughnuts this weekend.

Besides all this doughnut joy, we got word that Crepe Cellar LLC got its PPP funding too. I know feelings are always impermanent, but for right now, I feel the joy in rebuilding. I feel the joy of community support. I even feel the happiness of it simply being a Friday. I’ve missed this.

Thursday, April 30, 2020

Today was a really happy day for us. Crepe Cellar got PPP funding. That means both our businesses have a lifeline out of this crisis.

Also, we announced that we’re opening our doughnut shop, Reigning Doughnuts, one day a week. Pre-COVID, it was open seven days a week—in the morning and at night—but we’re so excited to be in a place to open up on Saturdays.

It will look a lot different. We used to see NoDa locals stroll up to the window and order fresh, hot, made-to-order doughnuts and a coffee—convivially chatting with our staff and hanging at our picnic tables on the curb. They’d then meander along the main street, or take their dog to a nearby green space—doughnut and coffee in hand.

Now, all orders will be made online and only by the box. It will allow all of us to avoid a face-to-face transaction. It will also allow for greater efficiencies for our team. We won’t be accepting tips at the window online either—all tips will have to be made online at the time of order.

We’re selling just one item. The only thing you can buy is an Assorted Box of Doughnuts—with no substitutions. Here’s what’s inside:

• 1 chocolate
• 1 chocolate with sprinkles
• 1 vanilla
• 1 vanilla with sprinkles
• 2 cinnamon sugar
• 2 honey
• 2 powder sugar
• 2 lemon poppy

Doughnut pickup will happen at our window—tucked on 35th street, behind Growlers Pourhouse. It’ll be lovely to have those mint green shutters back open, and the smiling (albeit masked) faces in the window. If there’s a fear of a doughnut surplus in the home, our doughnuts actually freeze really well—and there are re-heating instructions printed on all the boxes.

If you go by to pick up your doughnuts, you’ll see Sarah Jean our Manager in there, along with her fiancé, Carman Spadaro, Executive Chef from Haberdish. Everyone is wearing a lot of hats these days. Please say “hello” to them.

We just started selling the doughnuts this morning and we’ve sold over 60 boxes so far. That’s an incredible start—far surpassing our expectations. I think the positive reception is because doughnuts always bring a smile—and right now, we could all use a little upturn in our days.

Wednesday April 29, 2020

Haberdish officially got its PPP funding. Crepe Cellar LLC (which includes Growlers Pourhouse and Reigning Doughnuts) is supposed to come through in the next day or two.

Today as I spun around the kitchen, I heard Jeff in the dining room. He’s implementing the plans we’ve been brainstorming. He’s calling staff and making arrangements. It feels positive. Imperfect, but positive. We’re figuring out how to navigate PPP as a restaurant business the best we can. We’re aiming to be wise stewards of this financial offering.

It’s clear there are still a lot of unknowns about PPP and importantly, the forgiveness process for the loans. We’re just trying to take measured steps, and get moving in a new direction. It’s like starting over again in a lot of ways. At this point, like a lot of business owners, we’re still taking one day at a time.

It did make me very happy to call my much-missed assistant, Bry, and tell her we are bringing her back on the team. I’m excited to have her help. She’s excited to “have purpose,” as she said. I get it.

At a time when my heart has broken and fears are swelling all around me, our takeout business has been a thread of hope in my every day. I’ve had something to preoccupy my mind. I’ve had something to put my energy into. Yes, we’re still doing just 20% of our normal sales, but it has given me an objective. I’ve been doing my part to hang on to a dozen jobs for the last six weeks. I’ve needed that.

It’s becoming very clear that the whole “recovery” process isn’t going to be one big celebration. There won’t be massive celebratory gatherings as businesses re-open their doors. It’s going to feel like a very slow trickle back to normalcy.

This is an important day — momentous for our businesses — we have a lifeboat to help us through. But this strange time continues onward and I have to run — I have to get out to the garage, we have all our Supperland tables to build.

Tuesday April 28, 2020

People are helping our community in a number of ways, big and small, and it is often tied to their inherent interests or talents. We’re each utilizing individual resources in unique ways to lift one another up.

One of my neighbors, Elizabeth Davant, is an artist. She is selling paintings through Art Cellar Online, and a portion of the proceeds are benefiting our neediest staff. She uses mixed media methods — specifically oil and cold wax on panel. Her color palate is mostly in cool earth tones — but she has delicate brushwork that gives pops of color that illuminate more subtle tones into brighter, almost surprising vividness. They’re lovely. Serene. She has these 7” x 5” works available, and I imagine they’d be stunning in a set of three in a hallway, study or bathroom.

Jeff and I are still awaiting news about PPP. The email notification came through about Crepe Cellar, but we’re still unable to seize the funds because of login issues. On it. We’re also awaiting word about Haberdish. Maybe by the time our Take-Out Tuesday dinner rolls around tonight at 7 p.m., we’ll have more answers. Maybe not.

I’m keeping my mind off of all of it — tending to the house, tending to the kids. My middle finished the whole Harry Potter series this week — including book eight. My daughter has been spending hours making intricate designs from minuscule pieces of nature. My youngest — well, he’s writing the sentence, “I am sorry Mommy and Daddy,” five times because he turned the hose on while Jeff was reading on the back deck — then he screamed about it for 20 minutes afterward. We’re all growing.

My hands are staying busy cooking, too. We whipped up plantain bread muffins, egg salad, crispy Brussels sprouts and roasted carrots. I’m trying to keep moving lest I dwell on the funding we almost might possibly maybe potentially have. My heart is with all you small business owners awaiting your news right along with us.

Monday, April 27, 2020

I plated lunch for the kids—roasted chicken and melty cheese sandwiches with leftover roasted broccoli and a piece of fruit. We also did a family-fun “Nut Taste Test” — to see which of six different types of nuts were everyone’s favorites. We sampled pistachios, cashews, almonds, pecans, walnuts and marcona almonds. Cashews won.

I jumped back over to my computer to nudge along my work task list. Today I’m in the midst of updating our websites. I modified ordering language and the hours we’re open. Plus, I updated our “health protocols.” All our employees have to log their temperature upon clock-in. Also, everyone has to wear face masks in the front and back of house. Our changes are now officially stated on all our websites.

Part of me hates the idea of updating our websites with all this information—it just feels so permanent.

I heard the “ding” of a new email. It was from our bank. “You will shortly be receiving documents via email to e-sign in connection with your application for a Paycheck Protection Program Loan.”

I plopped onto the couch next to Jeff. “Did you get the email?”

He didn’t look up. “I just got it,” he said.

It was the PPP notification for Crepe Cellar—that includes Growlers Pourhouse and Reigning Doughnuts too. Only issue is that for some reason we can’t get into the system. We’ve gone back and forth with our bank trying to resolve it, but we don’t have it sorted out yet. We have the wrong password. It’s not working. We’ve been on hold. The bank has been in touch. They’re being responsive. We still don’t have definitive answers.

I have feelings of relief that it came in the first place—this is a sort of lifeline for small businesses. But we don’t have it in had yet, so I also feel angst we’re going to miss out again. We all recognize that money is going to be allotted quickly.

Jeff reassures me. We still haven’t gotten the email for our Haberdish business—it operates as a separate LLC—so hopefully that will come through in the next day. Businesses are still being notified. At this moment, the funds are still available.

Here in our world, we have our fingers crossed.

“Just cross them once,” suggests my 5-year-old. “You don’t want to double cross and jinx everything.”

I’m going to attempt not to check my email 40 times before tomorrow morning.

Sunday, April 26, 2020

The kids and I are on our own again today. Jeff is spending the waking hours climbing industrial ladders that rise to the 16-foot rafters at Supperland. I wish I could be there, too. I love the build out process. I love the camaraderie of the workers, I love seeing the changes and being a part of the team. I love watching the details slowly trickle throughout the space until it meets our vision.

I was really looking forward to this part of the project. But I can’t be over there — and my mindset has had to shift. We have to go about this build-out in a different way. I have a lot of “letting go” to do. Right now, it is my job to hold our family in place. If I can do that, I can free Jeff up to get over to the project. That gets us closer to making our dream happen.

That’s just my role. And maybe its not “just” — I know there’s a lot of honor in holding everything else together.

The Bible belt remains quiet here on this Sunday morning — still weeks away from places of worship opening back up. Today I listened to a sermon on my couch, bundled in blankets, surrounded by the morning blue glow of my windows. The passage was the 23rd Psalm.

My big takeaway: God sees the end of all of this. He sees us on the other side of it. He’s also seeing us through it.

As the 23rd Psalm notes, sometimes in life we find ourselves in “the valley of the shadow of death.” Here we are. And we’re required to stay here for a while longer. When I close my eyes, I can see all of us walking together — each of us with a different burden, a different plight, but we’re soldiering onward. We may not be hand in hand, but we’re all unified — walking forward day by day to get to a new place. When I look around, I see some people holding a large burden — and then they turn to help someone else who is in even greater need.

We’ve been raising money for our staff through Go Fund Me, and one of our servers, Jason, took his money and actually purchased nearly a hundred meals for some of the neediest people in our community. That’s love. That’s generosity. That’s inspiration in a dark time.

There are so many glimmers of hope and love in this valley — and maybe it’s because in the darkness, it is easier to see the light.

Saturday, April 25, 2020

We’ve learned a lot this week. Our stay-at-home order has been extended until May 8. Also, our children will not be going back to school to finish out the year.

My guess is we all anticipated both.

I know our whole country needs more time, but I’m not going to lie, I kind of broke down this week. That is, if you call crying into a pillow “breaking down.” I think it was the recognition that this crisis is here to stay a while. There’s a lot on each of us—a lot to keep up with—and that’s just to keep our heads above water. Day to day I don’t feel like I’m getting anywhere, I feel tripped up.

I know this time is not about progress. My problems are small.

My twin sister is outside of New York—they don’t have the sun and mid seventies weather we have here. My other sister lives in Spain. She’s been in an apartment for over forty days with two toddlers. They don’t have a deck or a porch, and they are not permitted to leave their home. They have to go one at a time to the grocery, or even to walk a dog. Her husband was reprimanded for “walking too far” away from his house one day.

They’ve found ways to make it work. Early in the day, she reads to the kids by the window with morning sunshine. In the afternoon, they shift to a different window. Sometimes she’ll put her kids in the tub twice a day just to give them something to do.

Here in Charlotte, as much as I feel broken up about cozying up even more into the “new normal,” I know we have it pretty easy.

With the new phased approach for re-opening North Carolina, of course Jeff and I have noted that our business falls in Phase 2. There’s guidance on what will happen from there, but we’ll have to see how it goes. It all feels very uncertain.

Jeff was gone all day today. He is installing the window trim and the crown molding that surrounds the upper walls of the main dining area of Supperland. I guess even if I’m not progressing, at least Supperland is. I’ll tip my hat to that.

Friday, April 24, 2020

We visited the Supperland construction site. I haven’t been over there in weeks.

With our other restaurant projects, Jeff would be on the premise each work day. His presence helps keep the project on track. It also helps ensure no silly mistakes are made. With this project though, Jeff really only goes over in the evenings when everyone is gone.

I pulled the car up by the church and parked on McClintock — right behind the Plaza Midwood Harris Teeter. As soon as we got out of the car, Jeff put on his gloves. He got the keys from the lock box. We told the kids not to touch anything.

There’s one thing I see: PROGRESS. That place is a bright spot in my life. Concrete has been poured. The framework for the bar in the smaller building has been built. Our hoods have arrived. The downstairs bathrooms are all framed out. All the plumbing is ready to go. Tile work has begun.

Jeff and I trotted along the exterior of the building, talking through the landscape design. It’s exciting. For a moment I’m lost in the joy of it — all I can see is beauty — in the restored building, in the towering trees surrounding us, in the hopefulness of that historic Charlotte neighborhood. For a moment, we aren’t in a pandemic and there isn’t anything big to worry about, and we can dreamily continue building without any fear.

I look around and notice the empty streets. Our reality with this build out is that we are in a pandemic.

Still, life feels abundant with joy. I’m happy our city is trending well with COVID. I’m glad our “stay at home” order has been extended — we’ll have more time at home to keep everyone safe. I’m glad we’re going forward slowly, methodically, with a phased approach.

I’m also lost in the joy of this: a company, Raw Design Woodworks (in Indian Trail), sponsored a meal for a local hospital last night. They picked up the whole take-out dinner through the nonprofit Feed the Front Lines. That helps our business at Haberdish — and it also helps our local healthcare heroes.

This afternoon, we have two birthday parties to “attend.” Parents are getting creative. We just drove by a house honking our horns for a little 8-year-old. As we drove away, I actually had tears in my eyes. It was a lovely demonstration of the human spirit. Happy 8th Birthday Archie!

Tonight we are joining a Netflix party so a bunch of 10- and 11-year-old girls can watch a movie together. Happy Birthday to you too, Elliott! I’m just grateful to have Friday night plans. I’m also grateful the plans include me sitting on my couch.

Thursday, April 23, 2020

It was a grocery store day today. Jeff masked up, gloved up and hit the shelves. We had a long list. When he came home, I met him on the front porch with my gloves and sanitizing wipes and performed our ritualistic item wipe-down before we brought the goods inside. Why does this all feel normal now?

We stocked back up on fresh vegetables — most of which I will roast in the next day or two. We got a heap of avocados — in a range of ripeness from near-green to black. We got bacon and chicken thighs. Jeff also got a brisket. He prepped it this morning just with salt and pepper. It’ll sit aging in our fridge until Saturday.

Here at home, the kids have designed and printed their own money. They’ve created a mini economy, where they get paid to do chores or “businesses” they start. They pay for meals throughout the day, too. Nice that I’m finally getting paid for my home chef job. Breakfast is $1, as is snack time. Lunch and dinner are both $2.

I might need to raise prices.

Each of my kids have taken a different approach to our home economy. My daughter finds if she makes her bed, helps with laundry and participates in her online/home schooling — she nets out fine financially at the end of the day. She hasn’t started a money-making service. My youngest has begun offering Kung Fu lessons. He’s five. The other day, I stood in the yard as he pelted plastic disks at me. I had to dodge them. I think I’m done with Kung Fu.

My middle has started up a gym and training service. I’m proud of him for recognizing the need — I miss the Dowd Y. I participated in a training session, and I’m glad I put my running shoes on. We had to jog around the outside of the house 10 times. Then he ordered up 10 burpies, pushups and sit ups. I think the pinnacle was when I found myself hanging from a tree—Jeff holding my feet. Assisted pull-ups don’t feel good regardless anymore — but particularly when hanging off a side tree branch.

Tomorrow, I think I’ll pay to have a back massage.

As our restaurant take-out business continues to hold steady, we’re still a far cry from normal business operations. That normalcy is a long way off. I think we’re all curious to hear what our state plans on for re-opening, but as a businessperson whose business has been terribly hard hit in this crisis, Jeff and I are actually not eager to re-open. We want ample time to pass to keep our city safe — we don’t want to open prematurely and then have to cease our operations a second time. Starting and stopping is very costly for restaurants.

We’re in the queue for PPP funding — in line with thousands of others. What Jeff and I see as our biggest job right now is to make sure our business is afloat when it comes time to start back up.

There are a lot of uncertainties for restaurants in COVID and with PPP — but one thing we’re pretty sure of: That next round of funding is going to be doled out fast.

Wednesday, April 22, 2020

The juggling continues. This morning we removed my son’s stitches. First, we wiped down the kitchen countertop and turned on the hood’s overhead lights. We placed a pillow on the granite. Our little guy rested on his back, tilted upward so we could remove the black, stringy, ties from the underside of his chin. It was a success.

Next up, we shifted to our job of opening a restaurant. There are a myriad of details that come with creating any new dining concept. Supperland is no different—except that it’s a restoration of a church, it’s never been a restaurant, and it contains two separate buildings along with a green space. There are complexities galore in the buildout.

It’s Earth Day today, and we’re in the middle of landscape design.

Usually we’d do this in person, meeting over at the triangular property at the intersection of McClintock and The Plaza in the charming neighborhood of Plaza Midwood. We’d walk around the property, and look over drawings to edit and re-imagine what could be. We’d point at nooks and use hand motions to describe heights and widths and the meandering courses of stone pathways.

But we did this meeting from our couch, over FaceTime. We used pdfs and images. We zoomed in on files, and talked through what’s working and what could be improved.

Jeff and I both feel protective of that garden area outside. We want it to feel special, like an extension of the whole place, and an area that cohesively unifies the two buildings together. In an earlier post, I’ve mentioned the one evening Jeff and I spent wandering around Charleston, and how we happened upon a meandering pathway. That’s a big part of the vision.

The other muse, which is even more personal, is a garden here in Charlotte that no longer exists—other than in our minds. It was a backyard garden that Jeff and I used to visit back when we only had one baby.

The green space was actually a private area, but the lady who owned it would let passersby peacefully enjoy it. She kept impeccable care of the place with a team of gardeners, and there were pebble paths and fairy houses and whimsical stone frogs and tiny foot bridges. At the very back of the winding paths was a spacious grassy nook, culminating with a central raised rose garden and an arch that probably had been the canvas for a half dozen humble nuptials.

All these years later, even while you can no longer enter the garden grounds, the place still dreamily dances in my mind. That was our place.

With our landscape designer, that’s where we’re aiming. And if we can come close to the feeling of that bygone spot, we’ll have served our community well.

Tuesday, April 21, 2020

I’ve been avoiding talking about something. It’s the acronym on everyone’s lips these days. PPP.

We didn’t get funding. A lot of people didn’t. When the money ran out, we were still in the queue.

At first I didn’t know what to feel, I kind of tucked myself in a hole. I tried to see how Jeff was reacting. I watched him from afar as I plated lunches for the kids, folded laundry, posted Instagram photos and conducted home schooling rituals.

I felt confused. I felt frustrated. Maybe I felt directionless, a little overwhelmed. That money opportunity might have been a lifeline. But I didn’t want to overreact in any direction because I literally didn’t know how to feel about it. I’ve never been here before.

I noticed Jeff started taking some long walks away from the house — accepting uninterrupted phone calls. He sat quietly more, on the couch, just closing his eyes. Maybe he was looking for answers, too. Maybe he didn’t know how to feel either.

I do know he felt a little frustrated — our turnaround time on any piece of that application was 10 minutes. The longest it took us to get back on a question was four hours. We did everything we could. We’re with a small bank, and they were about a day late in the filing process. Every day counts right now.

But here’s the thing, PPP is flawed for all of us small restaurants. All that payroll money you receive is kind of tough to use in a time when our businesses’ dining rooms are not even legally allowed to be open. We’d have to use it within eight weeks — but are we going to be operating at full capacity in that time? No. That’s an easy one.

It’s extraordinarily helpful to have the money, but the timing is off. We don’t want to get eight weeks down the road and have to let everyone go again. If we were to have gotten PPP funding this round, we didn’t want to miss out on other opportunities that have better timing for our business. There’s a lot to think through. There’s a lot of hoping for something that doesn’t yet exist.

The Independent Restaurant Coalition is fighting to save restaurants — we’re all dealing with the same conundrum. Their goal is to change the policy in two ways:

1. Peg the origination date of a PPP loan to the first day that restaurants, in any given entity, can legally open fully.

2. Extend the maximum loan amounts to 3 months after we are allowed to reopen and operate at full capacity.

If you’re interested in having your voice heard, please visit the website and join the petition. I did so with each of our restaurant concepts.

Our team is all right.

There were a lot of uncertainties about the PPP funds, so in a way, I guess it’s good the decision has been made for us. We can’t bring our team back on just yet. We don’t have the money to do so. While difficult to accept, we know we need more time. None of us know what’s coming in terms of re-opening dates or when to expect full capacity operations.

For now, it’s Tuesday, and it all feels a lot better today. I think I even feel relief. There’s got to be something else coming for independent restaurants. It’s a huge industry across our country, and we employ millions of people.

I have to hold on to hope that something else is coming, that there will be a better plan — that a new lifeboat is sailing this way. It’s out on the horizon — we just can’t see it yet.

Tonight’s another Take-Out Tuesday, and Jeff and I will go live from the Haberdish Instagram account at 7 p.m. from our dining room. We’ll talk about PPP, we’ll also talk about lighter topics like the countertops at Supperland, and home cooking ideas, and Jeff will bring some sort of drink to share with everyone (virtually, of course.)

Monday April 20, 2020

We’re back to another school week. I love having my kids home. I am reminded though, of how different my life is. There’s a lot more juggling, a lot more figuring things out, a lot more housework, a lot more of trying to do everything.

I think what has become particularly evident is that we no longer function as a community. We’re legally forbidden to. We all have to keep to ourselves. We exercise alone. We cook and eat alone. We spend our days alone. We work separately from one another. It’s all OK for the moment, I get it. Right now, our isolation is saving lives.

With this “stay at home” order, we’ve all become our own entities — islands of individuals or small family units — and because of that, there’s a lot less division of responsibility. Our community is fractured — intentionally so — and there are all the dings and scrapes that go along with this imperfect system.

There’s a reason humans have resorted to live in communities. We can each get good at things. One person is a nanny. Another works at a restaurant. There are bartenders. There are dog walkers. We have IT specialists, people who can fix appliances, teachers, and those who know how to keep a beautiful lawn.

Right now in COVID, there is no division of responsibility. Each person must be able to do everything. In my day, I’m a teacher, a mom, a chef, a cleaning person, laundry expert, bed maker, Zoom specialist, marketing/social media professional, gym teacher, and a nurse.

That’s a lot of hats to wear. I used to have help. A lot of us did.

The other day our dishwasher broke. I almost broke down along with it. Lord, please, anything but my dishwasher. Thankfully Jeff’s a pretty handy guy. He was able to fix it.

Our induction stovetop is another matter. As of the big storm a week and a half ago, we’re down to two working eyes. We had a fuse blow and like a fierce punch, it knocked out the other three eyes. I can’t turn them on. Jeff hasn’t been able to fix that yet, so I have to do a lot of switching pots on these two little working fixtures to get a meal cooked. We’ll get them fixed when we feel comfortable having someone else in the house.

Then there’s the schooling “hat” many of us have to wear. No longer able to rely fully on teachers, the weight has been shifted to parents. Right now, I’m teaching my 5-yea- old to read. I’ve made hand-made flashcards for him.

“OK, sound it out,” I say.

He begins, “W W W… i … i… i… th … th …. th.”

“Good buddy! Now put it all together,” I encourage.

“THAT.”

I blink and twitch. God bless us. God bless our teachers.

I liked it when we were all working together. I think we all did — and it’s good to see some positive numbers coming out about COVID. We’re doing something right. The disease is slowing, our distancing is working.

Someday, even in the perils of all we’ve lost, it will be fun to work to build our community back up — and it’ll be even more delightful to build it back up together.

Sunday April 19, 2020

This morning Isabella and I went out on our front porch to check on the bird’s nest in our hanging fern. Two days ago, the babies had hatched and it seemed that out of four eggs, at least two had made it. As of last night, we could see those soft-gray feathers sprouting off the necks and backs of the chicks.

After some research, we’ve discovered the birds are likely House Finches. The male has a slight red tone on his head and neck. The female, gray and speckled. We’ve been watching them fly back and forth, collecting food and feeding their chicks — keeping our distance so they can properly tend.

This morning, though, I stood on one of our foot rests to see the newly-feathered chicks inside the nest. It was empty. It was then that I realized there were tiny gray feathers floating around at our feet.

“I’m sorry, Isabella,” I said, shaking my head.

I explained that something had happened in the middle of the night — either an owl or a hawk or maybe even a cat. Isabella didn’t say anything — she just nodded her head and walked inside. I followed her — to get the broom.

The crisp morning air breezed over me as I made large sweeping motions to brush away the tiny feathers. They floated into the bushes. Tears filled my eyes. Overnight, the nest was gone. I was hoping we could watch them grow.

I don’t mean to be emotional about something so commonplace, I guess I’m just looking for the simple, the beautiful, the serene — but even there, sometimes, there’s the brutal reality of… reality.

This afternoon, we went for a drive. Didn’t people used to do that back in the forties — just go for a drive? We ended up tacking on a destination too: We drove up to Davidson College to have a picnic and ride our bikes.

We had lunch on the pristine grass in front of Chambers — where Jeff and I used to take college classes. We rode around Patterson Court, and up “the hill.” I had to walk my bike and push my five-year-old up the steep, dreaded, incline. Then the five of us rode through the brick pathways across campus to look at several outdoor art exhibits.

There’s a stickwork installation by Patrick Dougherty that’s in progress. It’s made only of saplings, sticks, branches. You can even walk through it. It’s lovely, and almost enchanted-looking amidst the tall trees surrounding it and the dearth of humankind. I walked through it once — the whole structure suddenly reminding me of an upturned nest. My eyes scanned around and underneath the chapel-like structures—windows and doorways peering out to the open grass.

Our 10+ day long Spring Break ends this evening. Back to online and home schooling tomorrow.

Saturday, April 18, 2020

Today is a cooking day for me. I’ll confess, I cook about ten hours a week anyway being on the Autoimmune Protocol diet (AIP). But my cooking has only gotten more prolific with the pandemic. I now have the five of us to feed—and four meals a day. We’re all here, all the time. Moms and dads out there know the drill. You can guess what my kitchen typically looks like—we run the dishwasher three times a day.

Here was today’s cook list:

• Ground turkey - two packs simply browned (I like this for tacos/quesadillas for the kids, or I’ll add it in with my cauliflower rice).
• AIP Clam Chowder - with coconut milk and bone broth.
• Roasted Okra - browned in the oven just with salt and olive oil.
• Crispy Brussels Sprouts - roasted and crisped (these are my kids’ favorite!)
• Toasted Coconut - I eat about a half bag of coconut each day with cinnamon.
• Paleo Pancakes - I triple the recipe so we can eat off it for a few days.

It took about two hours.

For those who are finding they’re spending a lot more time in the kitchen these days, I want to let you in on my secret for getting gobs of cooking done in a hands-free kind of way: SHEET PANS. Here’s the other secret: glass containers. Cook in bulk and store.

You can roast just about anything on a sheet pan. Anything from potatoes to Brussels sprouts to broccoli, okra, corn, bacon, carrots, sweet potato fries. What’s best, is that it’s super easy even for a beginner cook.

Tips to get you started:

• Preheat your oven to a high temp 425-450F—let it reach the temp before you place anything in there.
• Spread whatever you’re roasting out flat on the sheet—so it cooks evenly.
• Use a heavy hand of fats (olive oil, coconut oil, bacon fat, butter)—this will allow for better crisping.
• Just use salt and pepper, maybe lemon—no sense in over-complicating it when there’s a lot of cooking to be done.
• Let your roasting take the time it needs—be patient, allow for charring!

Don’t be afraid of putting several sheet pans in the oven at once, just recognize you might need to bump up the temp to 450F. Also don’t be afraid to mix different veggies on one platter. One of my favorite veggie mixes is carrots (in multi colors—yellow, purple, orange, white), leeks, and purple cabbage. Just throw olive oil, salt and pepper on top. The colors are gorgeous. The flavors are lovely with any grilled protein.

Speaking of proteins, the cooking segment Jeff did with WBTV came out. You can learn how to roast a chicken.

Maybe in the end of this, we’ll all come out with a few more recipes and a little more confidence in the kitchen. On the other hand, we might just flee our kitchens for our city’s restaurants—leaving the prepping, the cleaning, and the cooking up to the professionals. Time will tell.

Friday, April 17, 2020

“Haberdish = Happy.” That’s the note Feed the Front Lines got back from the hospital workers yesterday after Jeff dropped off 50 meals from Haberdish. We boxed up chicken tenders, mac and cheese and a side of slaw—all in individually wrapped portions.

I’ll be honest, sometimes right now it’s hard to feel a lot of joy with the restaurants. Listen, with all my heart, I’m grateful they’re still afloat. I’m thankful we’ve held onto a dozen jobs. I’m ecstatic that orders are still coming in. It’s just that everything we’ve built has been, well, reduced. We’re still doing a little over 20% of what we were doing before. Sometimes it’s hard to feel joy, to feel excitement.

I guess that’s partly why having a partnership that puts in large orders for hospital workers is a big help to us. Yes it’s about our revenue. But it’s also helpful for our morale. It’s giving us something to take pride in. Plus, when someone says that what we offer makes them “happy”, that’s building us up too, in a different way. After all, everyone in hospitality knows, we didn’t make all these local restaurants for ourselves—we made them for others. We made them to make other people smile, to make other people happy.

Haberdish = Happy is a welcomed compliment at a time when it’s hard to see the bliss of what we’ve built through the haze.

I do have a tidbit of exciting news though, Colleen Hughes, our Head Mixologist, has whipped up an Old Fashioned Syrup for this weekend. This drink, throughout the year, is our clear #1. And she’s made the syrup to be super simple to execute at home. Because she’s added in orange oil, and vanilla and cherry notes, you’ll get the full Old Fashioned experience without having to worry with garnishing. Just add your favorite liquor. Bourbon works. Whiskey works. Colleen suggested even Tequila or Mezcal or Scotch (it’s a thing!).

She’s also got Mimosa kits ready for your weekend brunching.

You can get them all at both Haberdish and Bring the Queen. We hope it brightens up the weekend! Cheers, friends.

Thursday April 16, 2020

Today is Crepe Cellar’s 11th birthday.

We opened that little NoDa spot in April of 2009 — with a good friend of ours, Paul Manley. We’ve amiably gone our separate ways over the years, and Paul is now one of the guys behind Sea Level, NC (in Uptown), Waterman Fish Bar (in South End) and ACE #3 in little Belmont. They’re obviously in the mix of this mess too, and they’ve grasped on to takeout orders — trying to stay afloat, just like all of us.

When it’s one of our restaurant’s birthdays, we almost always enjoy a family dinner at the spot to celebrate. If we could, tonight, we’d go to Crepe Cellar …

Jeff, the kids and I would drive around the 277 loop and park behind the restaurant on Yadkin. We’d get there by about 5:45pm, to get one of the booths. Dustin would come over and bring us bubbly water with limes. The kids would each get one, too. Catharine would stop by to say “hello.” Russel would come over and tell us about one of the small plate specials he had made that evening. Andy might drop by with a napkin holding some newly-picked items from his garden just a couple blocks away.

We’d settle in when suddenly Colleen would waltz in the door from her shift at Haberdish. “Boss,” she’d say to Jeff, “I want you to try something.” She’d set a colorful and brightly garnished glass in front of him. It’s something she’d been wanting him to try for Supperland. He’d dig it.

I’d order the large Brussels sprouts for the kids. I’d get the roasted cauliflower (“Jamie style” — which means AIP-diet friendly). I’d probably also order the homemade burrata for the table. The kids like it with prosciutto and the grilled gluten free bread. We’d circle around the table as the kids placed their orders.

My middle son always has the biggest mouthful of an order. “May I please have a gluten free Queen City Crepe with an over easy egg. No tomatoes. Dressing on the side. Fruit, but only berries.” He has Oral Allergy Syndrome so he has to modify menu items, a lot like his mama.

We’d watch passersby through the windows of our little gastropub, and the lights would start to get low. Servers would scurry to light candles, and we’d watch as the restaurant came to life with the illuminating vibrance of people. Neighbors like Scott and Joey from Company Store. Familiar families that dine in that place religiously every week. Friends from nearby Plaza Midwood, and strangers we’ve never seen before.

After spooning our Brussels sprouts and nibbling a burrata, our entrees would arrive. Mine is never a surprise — the AIP salad with salmon, pink and bright in the center. At dinner, I usually add three seared scallops, too. They come out steaming and browned. I’d softly cut through with a fork. The kids would get their crepes. Jeff would settle in with the seafood special — maybe tonight it would be a grilled mahi with cheese polenta and a sautéed spinach. I don’t know. The seafood specials are always where our team shines.

Chef Steve would come to check on our meal — to make sure everything came out all right. Steve was our first hire — he’s been with us since day one.

Many years ago, Jeff and I had a dream that Crepe Cellar would be a place that would welcome everyone. Anyone could go there — and they could wear whatever they wanted, and be whomever they were. They could be broken. They could be full of life. They could be surrounded by loved ones or at the bar by themselves.

There are a lot of things I miss about that block and its thumping, lively heartbeat. But that might be what I’m looking forward to most. Sitting at a booth and watching the door open to faces I know and faces I don’t know.

In time, we will fill up again.

Happy, happy birthday Crepe Cellar, keep hanging on.

Wednesday, April 15, 2020

This week, our restaurants are starting a new partnership. It’s one of those win-win situations. We’re partnering up with Feed the Front Lines Charlotte. FTFL Charlotte is a 501-C3 organization that is raising money to help support two local issues at the same time: 1) feeding our healthcare workers who are working on the front lines; and 2) supporting local family-run restaurants who have been hit hard financially in this crisis.

One thing I love about this partnership is more on a personal level. We’re working with a young lady, Jenna Brunner, who is a fellow Davidson College grad. She played tennis there. So did Jeff. I played basketball. All of us working together makes me happy. I loved that school. And what we’re doing by working together is a very Davidsonian thing to do: see a need, figure out a way to solve the issue, and get to work.

That’s what’s happening.

Tonight, our window pick-up concept, Bring the Queen, will be making Turkey Rueben sandwiches with Broccoli Salad. Tomorrow night, Haberdish will be cooking up Chicken Tenders, Mac and Cheese and Coleslaw.

The next two nights, Jeff will deliver the food to two different hospitals on his own. It takes away the need for us to charge a delivery fee or ask for a tip for one of our staff. He’ll do an outdoor drop off of double-bagged food containers—all individually contained. The outer bag will be tossed. The inner bag carries the food into the hands of our healthcare workers toiling on the front lines to protect our city from this virus.

If you’d like to donate to this cause, please go here. We—our family of restaurants and Feed the Front Lines CLT—would love to have your support. These meals cannot happen without the generous donations from our community. Thank you!

Tuesday, April 14, 2020

Today I scoured my kitchen. I wiped down cabinets and shined the stainless steel. I decluttered our fresh fruit basket. I even swept. This rigorous cleaning bout is not routine. But, today we are hosting a Zoom home cooking segment with WBTV. I will be behind the camera. Jeff will be on screen, and he’s making a simple roasted chicken.

Our team usually goes over to a TV station with one of our chefs, or Jeff, to do a cooking demonstration. That can’t happen anymore, so stations are getting creative. They’re using FaceTime or Zoom or Skype to get their content.

That’s what we’ll do today.

As we all have to cook more during this pandemic, we’re sharing a few easy things to cook at home. Roasting a chicken is our first segment. If this unusual format works well, we’ll host some other ones, too. We have a few ideas up our sleeves — but again, the gist is simplicity. If someone is new to cooking, we don’t want to scare them away. Cooking can be creative. It can be empowering. It can even be therapeutic. You just need to get a few basics down.

Spring Break is going. We were supposed to be in Naples, Florida this week — it’s our “free” vacation we take each year to Jeff’s mother’s place. She has a car and a pool and bikes and chalk and well, everything to keep 10-and-unders skipping from one happy thing to the next.

But here we are in Charlotte, and Spring Break is still happening. It just looks a little different.

For the most part, the kids play all day outside. But, I’m requiring them to do an hour each morning of constructive activity. We’re calling it the “Hour of Productivity.” It’s not the most celebrated hour of the day around here. I do it partly so that at the end of the day it doesn’t feel like we’ve just blundered around and gotten nowhere. In the Hour of Productivity, we’re going places — piano practice, reading, math workbooks, multiplication games, sight words. The other reason is because I need to empty the dishwasher and brush my teeth and put in my daily COVID hair bun. I can also get dressed. The “HoP” gives me the time.

Today, Jeff will have two whole chickens in our kitchen. One will be pre-roasted and ready as our “after” shot. The other will be raw and spatchcocked, ready for simple seasonings and to be placed in the oven. I’ve picked fresh rosemary and sage from our garden. I’ll get all the cooking utensils ready, too. Jeff is over at Growlers Pourhouse this morning, finishing up building the wooden shelves in the back hallway. He has taped off his workshop area with yellow caution tape so everyone knows to keep proper social distancing from the equipment.

As soon as he gets home, we’ll turn toward getting everything set for the WBTV shoot.

That reminds me, it’s Take-Out Tuesday at 7 p.m., live on the Haberdish Instagram account. That means I need to clean that one corner in my dining room, too. Maybe I can get to that after snack time on the back deck.

Monday, April 13, 2020

That was quite a storm we had last night. At 5 a.m., Jeff and I were sleepily considering moving all of us to the hallway to get the kids away from our rickety old windows. We lost a front potted plant. We also lost power. Lunch for the kids as a result looks a little saltier today — it’s all out of a bag. I’m determined not to open the fridge — and my stubbornness runs deep.

I made it down and around Freedom Park for a jog. I note we’re all running more—trying to keep our springtime workouts going in a pandemic. It was actually pleasantly quiet. Beautiful.

I used to run a lot — and then my body gave out on me. I had “early onset arthritis” in my hip. I also had severe plantar fasciitis in my foot. I did PRP, therapy, and a cortisone shot, too. Nothing worked.

Eventually, I had gone for my last run at the age of 39, on the Ocean City, New Jersey boardwalk. I hung up my shoes then, knowing I had put my body through too much in my near-40 years.

But here’s the cool thing: I run again. And it’s because of food.

Almost miraculously — after changing my diet—all my joint pain disappeared. I hadn’t expected it, but six weeks after moving to the AIP (Autoimmune Protocol) diet, I could run again.

I’m up to four miles, and I’m going to keep building that. Build along with me if you want. What else have we got to do?

Jeff is running more too, — and he’s missing his tennis. He was very excited about the Roger Federer #Tennisathome wall challenge that came out. We went to an open tennis wall so he could mimic his hero. Here he is, sporting the fedora, and white workout pants. You can see more in Haberdish Instagram stories. This one is worth saving as a highlight.

Sunday, April 12, 2020

I heard bumbling around in the bathroom early this morning. Someone dropped an electronic toothbrush. It was Jeff. He had to get out the door by seven to help with Easter Brunch pre-orders over at the restaurants. That means I’m manning Easter on the home front alone today.

Over in NoDa, our teams at Haberdish and pop up, Bring the Queen, busily packed up boxes and bags of pre-orders. I got to see some photos—everyone sporting their new face masks. Tables were chock-full with bags of take-out food. It certainly is a different time. We usually have hundreds of covers on Easter Sunday—every one of them a “dine in”. Not this year.

On our Easter take-out menu, we had offered a local-honey glazed ham and a roasted lamb shoulder. Surprisingly we sold about an equal amount of each. We expected to sell a lot more ham in comparison. With pre-orders though, our inventory was easily managed.

We’re all grateful for the orders—it made for a very busy takeout weekend—but also, the process has forced us into learning a new system. We now know how to take pre-orders. We hadn’t been doing that before. It’s something that might be a viable addition to our weekly business to help us weather this storm. It could even be a new revenue stream when we open up again—some day—whenever that is.

Back at home, a Happy Easter happened. The kids and I started out huddled in my bed with blankets and a half dozen stuffed animals. The Easter Bunny had left a note for them in the hallway—which we read with much anticipation and glee. We learned he had left 54 eggs for them to find. He also left them each a basket of goodies. My youngest got new shoes. My middle, a graph-paper notebook (he loves to draw mazes). Our daughter got a foodie game called “Tacos & Burritos”. The kids raced around the house in PJs finding their little hidden treasures.

For breakfast, I stirred up a paleo-banana pancake mix. Much as I like pancakes from scratch, these packs sure are handy—especially when it’s just me. I sliced butter and helped little hands pour maple syrup. They lapped it up with their fingers. We had mint tea too.

With this impending rain storm tonight, the evening’s holiday activities will consist of enjoying a roasted turkey dinner and dyeing about a dozen eggs. We’re going to start up a game of “Charlotte-o-poly”. It’s a game that just might blissfully last for days.

Saturday, April 11, 2020

This morning we had to do something we have been trying to avoid.

I was browning gluten free raisin toast and splattering it with heavy slabs of grass-fed butter. On each plate, I placed bright orange sweet potato sticks and fresh raspberries. Suddenly, my youngest hopped over the couch and pounced forward. In slow motion, he toppled into the granite counter.

He wailed.

First impression, it seemed like nothing. I was hoping it was nothing. It wasn’t gushing. But as I wiped up what blood there was, it was a gaping split. I pressed a paper towel into it to keep it from flowing.

“Isabella, go get your Dad,” I said.

Jeff came downstairs.

“I think he needs stitches,” I said.

Jeff looked him over and agreed. We’d take him to the children’s Urgent Care down the road—except there wouldn’t be a “we”. Jeff would take him, I would stay behind—to mitigate our exposure to COVID at the facility.

At our back door, I took my teary-eyed little boy and I said, “Daddy will be with you. I will be right here.” I pressed into his heart. “Say one thing for me: I am a brave man.”

He repeated slowly, “I am a brave man.” His lower lip quivered.

The two of them climbed in the car and they tied on their face masks. I stood by the back door as they drove away.

Stay right where you are, Jamie. Don’t let it take you away. I said to myself. I could feel my anxiety rising.

I kept the door open, allowing the crisp morning air to slowly enter my lungs—chills swelled over my body. I breathed in again and closed my eyes. I knew this time I couldn’t be there to hold him, to wipe away tears, to make him smile when it hurt so badly.

Inside the house, my older kids pulled me into a game of charades—animal charades. I decided to go out on a limb as a Chrysalis—I moved from a writhing caterpillar into a still ball and arose into a butterfly. They didn’t figure it out.

I glanced at our sink. There were at least a dozen pots and pans. Vehemently scrubbing could coerce along the time.

Isaac and Jeff returned about an hour and a half later. They left all their clothes in the laundry room. I started the load immediately. They scrubbed their hands with frothy bubbles.

Jeff said there was only one person in the whole building—the doctor. There were no patients. The doctor suggested we return in seven to ten days to get the stitches removed. Jeff tilted his head—a twerk to his mouth. The doctor nodded. She gave him tiny scissors, a pack of gauze and zinc ointment. In a week and a half, we’ll remove the stitches ourselves.

Friday April 10, 2020

It’s Friday. At least I think it’s Friday. This whole no-schedule thing is crushing my ability to have a sense of time. It could be Tuesday or Saturday, but it’s already ticking past 2 p.m., and I’m not really sure what I’ve accomplished.

Alas, our Easter pre-order sales went a lot better than expected. We didn’t set any sales goals. With such an unprecedented situation, we’re just kind of rolling things forward and hoping for the best. We’re being very lenient with ourselves when things don’t work.

But this worked. Likely it’s just that it’s Easter. People want a special meal, and they want a break. I get it. My dishwasher runs three times a day. It’s incessant. Ordering a roasted lamb or local-honey glazed ham removes the work of cooking. Paper plates help, too. We’ll accept orders until 7 p.m. tonight, and tomorrow our team will be busy.

So Easter pre-orders worked for us. But maybe there’s another, more sustainable business lesson here, too. Maybe we need to do pre-orders on a regular basis. We’re toying with the idea of making one pre-order meal a week that guests can order in advance and retrieve on a specific day. It would be higher end and probably something that you wouldn’t ordinarily make at home.

Maybe it will work. We’re going to keep adjusting and staying flexible to see what keeps us afloat.

In the last day, we’ve had a lot of movement on Supperland. Jeff and I finally selected our countertops. If you were following along on social media back around Thanksgiving, you’ll know those countertops had been a point of contention for us. We could not get on the same page.

We’re there now. We did it. We picked the chef’s countertop, the bar top in the cocktail bar and we covered one other surface, as well.

We also got a rough sketch of the garden area outside. That green space will connect the main building at Supperland with the cocktail bar. I’m very excited about this because in my head, I want it to feel like one night that Jeff and I had in Charleston years ago. We meandered our way through the town and stumbled upon a little wooden sign that led to a window-spanned cocktail bar. That feeling of being somewhere else, of meandering, of not knowing exactly where the path would lead, of stumbling upon something beautiful.

I want it to feel like just like that.

Thursday April 9, 2020

It’s been over a week since we’ve been to the grocery store. But it was time. Jeff grabbed a face mask, and he stowed some gloves in his pocket. He took our massive list off the counter, and he ventured out into the great unknown.

My diet is basically vegetables and meat/seafood, so I had been going to the grocery about every two to three days. We just made it eight days. There was strategic rationing. I might have served the kids plain frozen peas for lunch. I’ve been four days without an avocado. But I now know I can cut my grocery trips down when we’re out of this. The things we learn in a pandemic.

I walked out on our front porch to set up our grocery sanitizing station. Another gorgeous day. A little sparrow frantically escaped our hanging fern. The poor little thing. She’s been nesting for the past week and she’s very fretful. She has four eggs in there—and she’s not sold on us.

We’re all trying to give her space.

It took Jeff an hour and 40 minutes at the store. The list was that long. I had even written it out by aisle (not kidding). When he came back, he pulled in the front of the house with about 16 paper bags full of food.

“It wasn’t bad,” he said. “Everyone was in masks and gloves.”

That’s good to hear. I like the good news of compliance. From reporters, it sounds like our social distancing is working—we just need to keep at it. 100%.

I sat on the ground—with my gloves and disinfectant wipes—as Jeff stacked bags all around me. Bag by bag I removed an item, wiped it clean and set it aside.

We stowed everything inside—scooting and restocking and shoving things aside to make room. It’s a little overwhelming. We have a lot of cooking to do.

It looks like the Easter Bunny is going to come after all during COVID. He just had to get a little creative with his “procuring of gifts” at Whole Foods. There’s a lot to work with: kids bath bombs, cookie mixes, organic jelly beans, healthy-ish marshmallows, chewing gum and even chapstick. We got this.

Jeff and I were talking yesterday about getting on the Supperland tables in the garage. We have all the wood stacked by table. We just need to join them together with dominoes. Being that there’s nothing on the calendar again today, I think we just might get started.

Wednesday April 8, 2020

There are a lot of people to thank in a time like this. Recently I read the book “Kindness and Wonder: Why Mr. Rogers Matters Now More Than Ever,” by Charlotte author Gavin Edwards. Quite simply, it’s about the life and influence of Mr. Fred Rogers. As a Pittsburgh girl, that quiet-mannered, uber-intentional man filled my every morning as a child. One of the things I remember hearing from Mr. Rogers was that in hard times, he always suggested to “Look for the helpers.”

There sure are a lot of helpers right now.

In general, I’m grateful for my five-man “quaranteam.” There’s a lot of change for children right now, but mine are coping well, asking questions, playing outside (and mostly nicely). They’ve adapted to our narrowed-in life. That’s been a big help.

I’m also blown away by healthcare workers. That they show up day after day in the front lines in this effort —that’s incredibly brave. Sincerely, thank you. You are our warriors. Every one of us is indebted to you.

From a business standpoint, I’m grateful for every single person that puts an order through Haberdish or Bring the Queen. Maybe people know this, but it truly is keeping a dozen people employed. If we stay at our current sales level, we can hold the line through this with these 12 jobs. I know other restaurants have this feeling of gratitude, too. Thank you for helping.

I’m also grateful for our staff who are waiting on the sidelines until we re-open. Some have found work elsewhere, others cannot find work at this time. Unemployment continues to tick upward. I am thankful for each one of them. And this week we were able to say a small “thank you” to some of our neediest staff. Through our Go Fund Me fundraiser, we were able to dole out 32 checks — each for $150. Every person who contributed to that program is a “helper.” Our fundraising efforts will continue, too, in the hopes of doing another dispersement before the CARES Act steps in to help.

You’re a helper if you’re wearing a mask and gloves at the grocery. You’re a helper if you’re practicing social distancing. You’re a helper if you’re staying positive for others, keeping yourself active, and happily enjoying the spring — in a COVID kind of way.

Hey, it’s Spring Break baby. Of course it won’t look a whole bunch different than last Thursday or the prior Tuesday, but school’s out so barefooted children are jubilantly dancing through my yard. As for Jeff and I, we’ve been preoccupied with answering the question about if the Easter Bunny is still planning to come during COVID. I think so. I think he’ll be here. He just really needs to get his act together in the next four days.

Tuesday April 7, 2020

For a time when our businesses are cut to about 20% of their prior size, we sure seem to have a lot going on. I’ve heard people are terribly bored during this quarantine, but I can’t seem to find enough hours in the day. It’s the cooking and cleaning. It’s the laundry. It’s the meal prep, and homeschooling, and cleaning again. Then there’s work.

This morning the kids got out of pajamas. We don’t always. And truthfully, I stayed in mine. We did a little family photo shoot, making banana bread for a print piece that’s coming out this summer in Charlotte Magazine. I was behind the camera — in my jammies. We got some good shots. We got some bad shots. We only needed one.

Take Out Tuesday is tonight, so at 7 p.m., Jeff and I will go live from the @haberdish Instagram account and share a take-out meal with whomever wants to join us. That’ll be my impetus to get properly dressed today. Just in time to change back into PJs.

As of today, we’re also starting to take pre-orders for Easter Brunch. Usually Easter Brunch is one of our busiest days of the year — particularly at Haberdish and Crepe Cellar. People go bonkers for brunch with family in town.

This year will be a little different.

We’re taking pre-orders for a lovely Easter brunch that you can re-heat at home. It’s what a lot of us restaurants in the Queen City are doing this year. I love what our chefs have put together, and it’s done by servings — so it’s $29.99/person.

In order to keep food waste and food costs down, we’re actually putting out one menu for both Haberdish and Bring the Queen. One of my favorite parts? You can add a cocktail kit or biscuits for the family, too.

Here’s the full menu our team is offering. You can make your pre-orders at www.haberdish.com or www.bringthequeen.com. We’ve set it up so you choose a time on Sunday for pickup (between 9:30 a.m.-2 p.m.), and then you’ll see the Easter brunch menu.

EASTER SALAD

Arugula and Sprouts, Shaved Pickled Carrot, Radish, House Lardons, Herb Cashew Vinaigrette

ENTREE - choose one

Local Honey Glazed Ham

Rosemary Braised Lamb Shoulder with jus

SIDES - choose 3 of 4

Pan Charred Mushrooms, Spring Onions, Fennel, with Lusty monk mustard

Smoked Pork Butter Beans

Roasted Parsip, Rutabaga, Carrots, Potatoes

Asparagus Almondine

DESSERT - choose 1 of 2

Blueberry Cobbler

Banana Pudding

Monday April 6, 2020

It’s a three-day school week. I still haven’t decided if it’s easier when the kids have school or when they don’t have school. It’s a toss up here three weeks in. By the end of the day I’m exhausted either way. I crash to sleep in about seven seconds, and I wake around seven in the morning. I think Jeff wonders if I’ve become a narcoleptic.

There are a lot of small things that have changed in this quarantined time.

For one, I cut Jeff’s hair.

The last time I cut his hair was early April 2009. It was over a decade ago. I know the date because it was just a couple weeks before we opened Crepe Cellar. Crepe Cellar’s birthday is April 16.

When we were first married, I always trimmed his hair. Truthfully it was out of frugality. He’d stand in the bathroom and I’d use the shearers, numbered three to seven to get him a decent cut. But the last time I cut his hair in 2009, it didn’t go well.

Just a couple of weeks before we were going to open our first restaurant, Jeff needed a trim. I was in a rhythm, going up and down the back of his head when suddenly the guard toppled off. The razor striped the back of his head down to the skin.

For the next several weeks, as Jeff did interviews and videos about the new place, he had to wear a hat to cover up the back his head.

I’m a little more seasoned now. I’ve learned my lesson. This time, the guard didn’t fall off. I think I did a pretty swell job. Perhaps I’ve gained back a little bit of trust too.

We’ve been doing a lot of cooking at home. I think we all have. I only want Jeff going to the grocery store once a week, so I’ve got to stretch what we have. I use some tricks.

• To make ground turkey go further, I’ll add a half cup of it to two bags of frozen cauliflower, and top it with chopped asparagus, grated carrots, sautéed onions, or mushrooms (or peas, spinach, broccoli or whatever you might have sitting around).
• I doubled a banana bread recipe because I found five very blackened, very unloved-looking bananas in my fridge. The loaves turned out beautifully and they’ll be perfect for breakfasts or snack time.
• When Jeff made my favorite soup the other day, I added a homemade bone broth (made from the bones of a whole roasted chicken we got from Bring the Queen). It increased our soup batch by about 25%.

On Wednesday, Jeff will venture back to the grocery early in the morning. He’ll be sporting his new hand sewn mask to cover his face. I’m excited to refill the fridge.

Sunday, April 5, 2020

This morning, huddled on my couch in the early light of dawn, I rested quietly by myself. I picked up my phone. It’s Sunday, and I figured church could happen without me moving any more than my arm. There are good things coming out of this quarantine.

I listened to last week’s sermon from my Pastor over at Myers Park Methodist — that grand church at the odd intersection of Queens & Queens and Providence & Providence. The Pastor is James Howell. There were a number of notable points, but one has stuck with me. It was about the base idea of moving forward.

But let me rewind first.

Two months ago, my husband and I owned a multimillion dollar company. It wasn’t the financial success of our restaurants that has me contemplative though—remember, the restaurant business has super tight margins. What’s captivating my attention is this indefinable pride in being a part of our city’s intensely fast-growing food scene. Not only were our restaurants thriving, but the Charlotte food scene was thriving—and with that came a reverence for the foodie culture. Our community had become entranced by the dozens of restaurants opening every month, the quintessential burgers in town, and breweries earning national acclaim. Jeff and I were sitting on that ship—a food-world mecca garnering great intrigue and a non-monetary clout that I can only describe as heightened social capital.

I’m not criticizing it. I was a part of it. We were kind of sitting on top of the world.

Thousands of people would come to our restaurants every week. Our family would sit on the patio at Haberdish and I’d turn my head and look in awe, into the gold-colored room, as table by table our restaurant filled up. In my lap I could view our wait list and see one to two hour wait times. We had our best day just a few weeks back—before the realities of COVID-19 began to trickle into our city. We employed 95 people on a little block that had been worth close to nothing just ten years prior.

I’ll be honest, the sheer fortitude of our business had become somewhat… I guess… suspicious. There were a number of times I questioned, Is this too good to be true? Maybe it was.

Now I’m wondering, from an historical standpoint, did we just leave the “Rollicking Teens”?

What people seem to be asking here in early 2020 is ‘How do we get back to where we were?’

Well, the easy answer is this: we get back there with hard work, thoughtfulness, resourcefulness, strategic thinking, creativity, innovation. We’re also going to need patience. That’s how we’ve built up after hard times before. Jeff and I started our first restaurant in the recession of 2008-2009 for a tenth of what it cost to open Haberdish. We can rebuild. We will rebuild. That’s the human story.

But, I don’t think we’re supposed to “get back where we were”. That was kind of the point of the sermon I listened to this morning. Maybe we have somewhere else to go. There’s something hidden — probably for each of us — in this interlude.

I don’t know how the story ends, but what we’re going through is part of the narrative, and what we pull forward from this time will take us to a place — not back where we were — but to a better place than before. We don’t know how this is going to help us, and we might not know for many years (or decades) to come, but out from the rubble, we will rise.

For now, let’s sit with this. Let’s not try to wrangle it to the ground. Let’s not try to get back to the Rollicking Teens because we have somewhere else to go. Let’s be mindful of ourselves and others — that we keep as many people physically untouched from this sickness. Let’s be lovely to one another. Let’s lift one another up. Let’s be light. Let’s hold one another from afar, and softly. Let us listen.

In front of us, we have another week ahead. I wonder where it will lead.

Saturday, April 4, 2020

We’re in the process of working with one of our managers, SJ, to make homemade face masks for all our staff. The CDC is now suggesting those in public places should wear a mask — so to help us keep best-known practices, SJ is following their protocols to create the cloth face covers. They stretch from ear to ear, then from cheek bone to cheek bone over the nose and around the chin. We’ve elected to make them homemade to not harbor supplies away from health professionals.

Our staff is doing a great job as a team to keep one another safe. This will be one more effort in our protocols. I just sent her measurements for each of my kids, and Jeff and me too. We don’t plan to venture out much, but we figured our family should have them just in case.

It’s hard to believe its all come to this. It’s also hard to piece together what’s real and what’s just an assessment of fear. I don’t have answers.

This afternoon, as I walked by our front door, I peered out the window. There was a package sitting on the ground. I watched as my 5-year-old approached it and bent down to pick it up.

I swung open the door, “Stop! Don’t touch that!” I screamed, swinging my arm.

He jumped away from the box and cried, “I’m sorry Mama! I forgot!” Tears flooded his eyeballs.

I held my forehead with my hand. Quietly I said, “I’m sorry too, buddy. It’s okay, let’s just go wash our hands.”

I walked him to the bathroom, to scrub his hands, tears falling fast down his cheeks. I shimmied his little shoulders toward me and I said what I always say to him when he’s sad:

“Look me in the eyeballs,” I say, “I want to hear it: ‘I’m a great man.’”

He let a sob flutter out of mouth and drippy nose — then he choked out the words, “I’m a great man.”

I want the fear to go away.

Life has mostly moved to our backyard. We set up the badminton net we got for Christmas. It’s now rising from the lawn and spanning the grass from edge to edge. Day one didn’t go that well. There’s definitely room for improvement.

After we made our last attempts at batting the birdie, I walked inside the house. Just opening the door, I could smell what was happening. Jeff was making my favorite chicken soup. It’s delicious. But just as delectable, is the the side benefit of that soup: gribenes.

For nine months of my diet journey I couldn’t eat pork, so I became quite fond of gribenes. It’s an ancient Jewish staple, sometimes called “Jewish bacon.” It’s heavenly … by itself, on salads, by itself.

Jeff sears off the chicken thighs for the soup, getting them to a rich, savory brown color. Then he pulls off the skin and sets the trimmings aside in another pan. With low heat, the chicken skins simmer for an hour or more, letting off a sweet fatty smell. Eventually they get crispy with a flavor that will make you question why you don’t see them more — everywhere.

I just made a list of what we’re going to eat for our meals each day — I’m trying to get to Wednesday before we have to go to the grocery again. Looks like we’re going to make it — and you better believe it has gribenes written all over it.

Friday, April 3, 2020

I had a plan of what I was going to write about today. I’ve changed my mind.

Outside my windows, blossoms burst from our southern Dogwoods, and grass is springing back to life from our short winter stint. The sun is warming my dining room floor, and in my yard, children are digging holes and collecting round red berries. We ate lunch cross-legged, and happily, on our back deck — and I’ll have my tea on my front porch this afternoon. My little circle here is confined, but healthy.

Life still feels like … well, life. But today, I’m reminded that it is not like this everywhere.

My twin sister, Kerry, lives in New York City, and while she has been able to get herself out of Manhattan, it’s bleak up there. They’re a few weeks ahead of us, and they’re also in the world-wide hotbed for this virus. In my head, when I think of that vibrant city, I see it all now in black and white.

This morning I got a text from Kerry. She was broken up. She’s lost a friend to COVID-19.

Scott Zwiren was an author, an artist, a friend. His most notable work is a novel called God Head where he tells his personal story of manic depression. The book won the Barnes & Noble debut book award. He’s been written up in the Village Voice. Scott also wrote lovely poetry, and created gorgeous pieces of art work.

I asked my sister to pick two of her favorite paintings to share. She chose “Peacock” and “Angel”.

You sure made this world a more beautiful place, Scott. Rest in peace.

Thursday, April 2, 2020

The kids snuggled on the couch last night watching the 2003 Peter Pan movie. We’ve never seen it, and I figured it was a good time to catch up on some classic stories. Cultural data points.

As Peter fought frantically with his shadow on the screen, I pulled Jeff into the kitchen. He leaned against the sink. I hopped up to my place on the counter — right by the stove top. I looked over at him and wrinkled my face.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I feel scared, Jeff,” I said. “Really, what if we can’t actually pull out of all of this?”

My arms crossed, my neck hung down. I shook my head. My eyes filled with tears. Sometimes it carries me away.

My mind hopped to Plaza Midwood, where we’re still restoring an historic church. It’ll become a gorgeous restaurant some day. It already is beautiful just as it is. It’s beautiful because of how it looks in our imagination. And I guess it’s also beautiful because it’s a symbol of restoration. It gives hope to our family, and maybe it’s a beacon of light for our community too. Beautiful things are still happening.

This morning as I was straightening up our disheveled house, I came across a miniature folded-up piece of paper. Inside were words my daughter had sketched with a pencil — probably from weeks ago: “Be a light on a dark day.”

Life feels dark for a lot of us right now — but we can each be light for one another.

I’ve never had to walk forward with such faith that the world will be okay. None of us know what will happen, but my actions and Jeff’s actions over the next several months have to rise above our fears. We must build and create something lovely at Supperland despite this scary time. We will.

Today, we have a photo shoot over in NoDa. It’s for a story about a family restaurant during COVID-19. Jeff and I will smile inside the doors that once opened to the vibrant dining room of Haberdish. We’ll smile in front of our first restaurant, Crepe Cellar, where we now pass food out the street-side windows.

We have just a skeleton of what we had built on that block the last ten years. But we’re proud of what was. And we’re proud of what can hopefully be again some day — both in NoDa and in Plaza Midwood.

For now, we’re healthy, and I hope you are too. We’re all also gratefully one day closer to the world’s best scientists and researchers finding treatments for this illness, developing a vaccine, and discovering a cure for those who are suffering.

Wednesday, April 1, 2020

It’s April Fools Day. It is also my parent’s anniversary. Happy 48 years together, Mom and Dad.

Last night, Jeff and I hosted our first live virtual “Take-Out Tuesday” dinner from the Haberdish Instagram account. I set out golden place mats and cloth napkins. We filled glassware, and lit a small tea candle. We plated our take-out food from Bring the Queen on our dinner plates (which are actually the yellow-rimmed plates from Haberdish).

On the menu were salmon filets, roasted veggies, the homemade burrata and a Sauv Blanc. Jeff and I sat at the corner of our dining room table — the phone strategically pointing to a clear space in the room. That spot might be the only uncluttered corner in our house right now. Everything feels everywhere.

Our Take-Out Tuesday dinner was a success. We had a nice turnout, and we’ll do it again next week. Same time (7 p.m.). Same place. Different take-out.

Confession regarding #TuesdayTakeoutCLT: evenings are my hardest time.

Anxiety creep always happens between 5-8 p.m. for me. Especially in a trying time, this part of the day can be a little uncertain. But after being on my crazy-strict diet plan for the last year and a half, I know some tricks. I know how to mitigate the likelihood of these symptoms.

I get back to basics during the daytime. No carbs — even in the form of parsnips or beets or cassava. I eat a high-fat breakfast. I take my 1-2 tbsp of coconut oil. I liquify every bite in my mouth before swallowing. I drink a lot of water. I get fresh air.

With last night as another data point — even in this high-stress time — I keep proving myself right. It works like a charm.

It’s Wednesday and I realized this afternoon that it’s been two weeks since we had to let our 85 team members go. I think about them every day. I wonder how they’re doing. I worry if they’re going to be okay. I think about when we can hire them back. I wonder who will come back and who will have moved on.

Our world has slowed down quite a lot ceasing our dine-in operations, and we’re trying to take advantage of it — by getting to some DIY work. In the normal course of business, we’d have to close to do big projects, but not now. There’s no revenue to lose.

The other night, Jeff woke in the middle of the night with an idea. This week, he’s executing it.

Jeff and our handyman, Bryce, ripped out a wall in the back hallway of Growlers Pourhouse to add shelving in its place. By pulling out the walls, we’ve gained 10 inches of space. That doesn’t seem like much, but that back hall is home to both a busy craft beer bar and our walk-up doughnut shop, Reigning Doughnuts. Ten inches can make for smoother operations across both businesses.

My time is up. A very chatty five year old is making sure I have nothing left to say. It’s time to go dig in some dirt.

Tuesday, March 31, 2020

Tonight we’re doing our virtual Tuesday Take-Out dinner from the Haberdish Instagram account. We’ll be going live from our dining room — just Jeff and I. The kids will be watching something colorful and loud on the TV. On our plates will be pan seared salmon, roasted broccoli and roasted cauliflower — all from our pop-up window, Bring the Queen.

I’m curious as to how I will eat and talk at the same time … politely. TBD.

As we go through this COVID crisis I’m constantly reminded that Jeff and I have been really lucky. It’s because of our people. Our Executive Chef at Crepe Cellar, Steve Kuney, has been with us since the beginning. He was our first hire. Dozens of people throughout our family organization have contributed more than five years. Colleen Hughes, our head Mixologist across Haberdish, Crepe Cellar, Growlers Pourhouse, (and eventually Supperland) has been with us nine years.

Colleen has gotten a lot of deserved acclaim for what she’s achieved on our cocktail menu at Haberdish. She’s been forward-thinking, creative, and she’s incredibly passionate about her work. She’s also female. I love that.

This Thursday evening, April 2nd, Colleen is teaming up with Kristen Wile from Unpretentious Palate to do a Virtual Happy Hour at 6 p.m. Tickets are available for just $10/person, and you’ll get some firsthand knowledge about gin, and learn how to make a Gimlet. I’ve gotten to sit in on Colleen teaching our bartenders and she’s tremendous. Her knowledge of cocktails, history, processes, and concocting is truly unparalleled in this city.

We’re kinda proud to have her on our team. Especially after all these years together.

On the home front, I had a small snafu today. My kids and I went for a walk just before the rain came down. We did a made-up scavenger hunt… finding things like Red Bud blossoms, a real estate sign and a single coin. We also re-enacted Beedle & the Bard again—we’re settling into our roles and the kids are more approving of my spooky death-like sauntering.

Anyway, during our jaunt through the neighborhood, we missed a 1:30pm classroom call. We ran home and made it 28 minutes late. Oops. I keep telling myself we’ll get better at this home-online schooling thing, but I keep muffing up. Back at it again tomorrow.

Monday, March 30, 2020

It was at Brixx Pizza on East Boulevard — on some obscure Tuesday night — that Jeff told me he wanted to open a restaurant. After he said it, he reached out for my hand. I reached out for my beer. In the moment, I never said “yes” and I never said “no”.

The weeks following that night, I watched as this emboldened, impassioned man began taking me around to potential spaces for this restaurant concept. He knew he could do it. I wanted to believe him.

Jeff has always been a foodie. He used to make us homemade pasta each week. Often, he’d break out his grandmother’s pumpkin gnocchi recipe — the origination of the Haberdish Sweet Potato Dumplings. His nose was ever stuck in a cookbook. His favorite show was Alton Brown’s Good Eats.

Jeff wanting to open a restaurant was never a big surprise to me. Besides his constant drive to cook and create in the kitchen, the two of us had dreamed about it incessantly when we were on our travels abroad. We were both in love with the idea of creating a special, one-of-a kind place. We wanted to serve homemade, delicious food at slower pace. But what really drove Jeff into this industry was hospitality. He loves taking care of people.

In this time of COVID, our places can still provide food. That’s a big part of a restaurant’s job. But we can no longer provide a loving space where all are welcome. We miss seeing families. We miss hearing the laughter. We miss serving people, and giving guests a reprieve from their realities.

The world needs what restaurants offer more than ever right now — togetherness, servitude, love, comfort, escape—but we know that can’t happen right now. We can’t all gather together. So we’ve decided to find a way to offer hospitality in a different way—to lift one another up, dine in a group setting (in a COVID-kind-of-way), and just be together.

On Tuesday night at 7pm, Jeff and I are going to host a little virtual dinner party. Everyone is invited. Here’s the plan: we’re all going to get takeout food. Then we’ll hang out on Instagram Live together (we’ll go Live from the @haberdish Instagram account). You don’t need to get take-out from one of our restaurants—get it from a place you love, a place you’ve never tried, or a place nearby. We can all share what we’ve chosen. #takeouttuesdayclt

The dinner party is “come as you are”. Jeff and I will look as most of us do in this time when things like brushes and showers are somehow suddenly superfluous elements of life.

All are welcome, we look forward to sitting around the table with you.

Sunday, March 29, 2020

Meandering outside our neighborhood, I went for a jog through the wide heralded streets of Myers Park. I found myself under the curves of newly-blossomed cherry trees. Our city sure brings the beautiful in the spring. The white petals swirled around me as I ran, falling to the ground like snow. My mind drifted off to a dozen years ago.

I keyed into a time when Jeff and I quit our jobs to travel the world. We were young then, in our 20s, and able to drop it all. We stepped away to see the world. We stepped away to figure out what the hell we wanted to do with our lives.

It was in the aftermath of that eight month trip that Jeff told me he wanted to open a restaurant.

Puffing up another hill on my run, I got to thinking about that eight-month hiatus we took. And how while it is entirely different, all of us have been strong-armed into a hiatus right now. We are all having to put a lot of things aside — incomes, activities, social outings, business growth, ideas.

We will likely never have a time like this again in life.

There’s a lot to worry about, no question, but if we’re looking for some positives, we can surely find some. For one, I woke up this morning again, my hands open at my sides. I’m grateful for the most simple things — as of this morning, we still have our health. Another positive is that this sacred time is giving us all a chance to step back, rethink, and re-imagine our realities.

For Jeff and I, over a decade ago, our stepping away compelled us into the family restaurant business. What about for each of us now?

What do we most want out of life? How can we use our passions to make the world better? How can we use this unprecedented time to jump onto a new path — one that has maybe been deep seeded for a while now? Are there problems we can help solve? Curiosities we’re desperate to cultivate?

I’m completely enthralled with the restaurant business — particularly, the joy of creating places that give people memories. They can take those memories with them. That is a gift I can give them. I love being a small part of that.

I also have another passion though. It’s a passion I’ve set aside for a long time: writing. I’ve co-authored children’s books under the brand, Bea is for Business. They all help expose elementary level students to entrepreneurship and business concepts. But over the past year, I’ve focused on writing a personal memoir about using food as medicine to heal severe anxiety.

In this strange, quiet time, it’s time for me to get brave too. It’s time for me to put myself out there to see if someone is looking for what I have written. Here I am.

What about for you?

Let us be brave, let us be dreamers — even in this time of uncertainty, even in this time of fear. Even in this time when we have no idea what tomorrow will bring.

I do know one thing that is coming tomorrow. Our company will be adding to the funds we’ve generated in our GoFundMe page, and we’re going to start distributing the money out to our teammates this week. We know they need it now. If you’re in a place to contribute, know your donation will start having an impact this week. We’re all grateful for your support.

Saturday, March 28, 2020

Last night I had a dream that I had a job interview. I didn’t have any business attire, but a friend was going to let me borrow some of her clothes. I ended up in some sort of a burnt orange mock turtleneck with a midi pleated plaid skirt. When I turned sideways, the midi skirt swelled over a bump—I was pregnant.

God, no—to the whole scene.

It was all a dream. And I know where it stems from. I’ve been worried our restaurants aren’t able to sustain our whole family. That maybe I need to get out there and find work, at least for the short term. Our subconscious doesn’t lie.

I shuffled over to my back and propped myself up in my bed. Still blue light began to fill my windows. Dawn. I thought about a place about two miles north of my house. A place that has been so central in my world. Doorways that opened to rooms filled with familiar faces, teeming with people. Smiles and laughter, and sharing around tables. Hot food, servers busily, graciously making people feel at home. It’s desolate now. Was it real? I think it was, but even when I look at pictures from a mere three weeks ago, it’s hard to believe it happened with how quickly it could vanish.

I miss it terribly.

I know it still exists. It exists in a different form right now—a means of weathering this storm. And it still exists in my mind, off in the unknown future when we can all get back together again.

Most of my time is spent at home right now. I’ve backed away from our restaurants almost entirely — other than to handle our PR and social media. Our take out business jobs need to be filled by our team members, not by me.

My main responsibility right now is keeping my family healthy and fed — and home schooled.

I do feel hope. I feel hope in the new CARES Act — which will pump $2 trillion into the US economy. Our business will be a recipient of aid. Mostly I’m grateful because money will go directly to our 85 team members who helped build our restaurants. I’m also grateful though, because the financial assistance will help us re-open our doors at full capacity whenever that time comes.

Throughout this journey, I find myself looking for light, looking for hope. It’s often small, but it keeps me focused on finding even more. The CARES Act is light for us. And here’s another tiny light: we sold out of our cocktail kits last night at Haberdish and our “pop up” Bring the Queen. A bigger light: our city is being really proactive. People are distancing themselves. People are being respectful and doing their part. This will help all of this pass with fewer casualties.

Great job, Charlotte, let’s stay the course. Let us be known as one of the cities that triumphs in this time. Let us be a city where all of us “strangers” bind together to make a difference by staying apart.

Friday, March 27, 2020

People have asked me how my husband, Jeff, is doing in this COVID crisis. If you know our story at all, you’ll know it was Jeff’s outlandish idea to open a restaurant in the first place. Once it settled in that hospitality was truly his passion — and even though it was the recession of 2008-2009 — I decided not to fight it. He began searching for spaces for a European gastropub concept that would eventually become Crepe Cellar Kitchen & Pub.

In the meantime, I shimmied suit pants up to my waist, unable to button them. I was four months pregnant. I had to hide it. I needed a full-time job with insurance if my husband was going into the restaurant business. Belly band securing my drawers, I fastened up my suit jacket, and mocked a handshake in the mirror.

I got the job.

Back then, I used to joke with Jeff and say, “I’m going off to work, you go play restaurant.” Now I guess we’re both playing restaurant together. With take out food passing out of windows, it’s just looking a little more like a snack bar right now.

One of Jeff’s nicknames is “Funshine Bear”. He’d be on vacation every day of the year if he could. He’s a dreamer, eternally optimistic, and frankly, he prefers to stay up in the clouds. I’m the one on Earth looking up at him saying, “Hello up there, Funshine, we’re all down here on Earth, and we have a situation. Could use the help.”

He just laughs at me. I think he likes the view from up there.

Watching him react in this very uncertain time, I find Funshine drooping a little bit down to Earth. I’m not sure I like it. He isn’t as jovial as usual, and I’m asking him more regularly if he’s okay. I think it’s the expression on his face.

Even from his usual seat in the clouds, he’s been ready for this COVID crisis. About two months ago he made several arrangements so that he could immediately close off the entire restaurant buildings in the event of an emergency. He was one of the first in town to implement new sanitary measures for staff and guests. He also ordered boxes of sanitizer and dispensers in advance of the panic.

He’s been watching. He’s been preparing.

It’s Friday, and school was out today. It’s a teacher workday. The kids are playing the yard—all three of them—and I see the strangest things happening. At one moment, there are cones all over the yard, and little feet kicking at a handful of soccer balls. I look up again and there is a string of children attached by a rope, holding something that looks like a shield. Right now, they are making their own “tribes”—whatever that means.

TGIF… tonight at Haberdish, Colleen Hughes has some new cocktail kits with the ever-popular “Spring Fever” cocktail. The drink is in our Top 5 yearly sellers, and we’re trying to help Charlotte embrace this gorgeous time of year—albeit in a physical distancing sort of way. The kit has a housemade syrup, ginger beer, garnishes and a recipe card inside. I’m reminded how hardship brings rise to innovation.

As for my husband, I’m ready to have him back up in the clouds. I prefer him up there. Despite the weightiness of financial losses and an impending pandemic, I wish he’d float on back home. That’s were he can see, that’s where there’s no fear, that’s where he can get dreamy again.

Thursday, March 26, 2020

I have a powerful dichotomy in my life: reduction and expansion.

In NoDa, we’ve closed our dining rooms. Our kitchens are operating at the size of pedaling food carts. We’ve had to let go of 85 people. We’ve adopted an entirely new process to keep our businesses afloat. We’ve become incredibly reliant on one income stream—takeout—formerly a minuscule part of our revenue. We’re hanging on by a shoe string.

We’ve been forced to retreat and reduce ourselves in so many ways.

But then comes the dichotomy: the other side—where retreating is not an option. My husband, Jeff, and I are building out a fifth restaurant concept called Supperland in the Plaza Midwood neighborhood. We’re restoring an historic church. It’s comprised of two buildings—one will be the main dining room, the other a cocktail bar.

This morning, Jeff and I did a FaceTime call with our plate designer. She lives in London. We have this dream of designing our own plates pulling in southern vegetables and birds and foliage. When you sit down at Supperland, we want it to feel like nowhere else on Earth. Those one-of-a-kind plates will be a part of that.

So far, they’re coming out beautifully. And it’s a good thing. We have a lot to accomplish in the coming months.

Truth is, we’re on the clock.

As of two days ago, we have six months to open.

In my head, I know it’s going to take this whole city to lift this incredible project off the ground. Despite this uncertain time, we have to set aside fears, stay bold, and continue to progress.

In my heart, I believe Charlotte will need this place. In six months, our city is going to need some wins. Maybe we could be a fragment of that spirit.

So in the meantime, as fear vehemently corrodes so much of what we’ve ALL built, we’re going to rise with hope and give this Supperland project every ounce of “heart” we can. If you want to help us build, follow along on Instagram. We need your cheering more now than we ever thought we would.

I’m grateful to have Supperland on the horizon. Maybe it’s the hope of what it will be—that we will someday settle back into a more jubilant, less fearful time. For us, it’s a beacon.

When the time comes, and the sun is out for all of us, faces eager to serve you will open our doors. We’ll pour whimsical cocktails and dish up delicious whole food off our 14-foot fire grill. It’ll be a sign of hope for our city and a place where everyone is welcome.

And once you settle in at your table, look right down in front of you. I hope you love the plates.

Wednesday March 25, 2020

Last night, I sprinkled leftover pieces of steak sparsely into cassava tortillas. I’m pushing that steak out as long as I can. I covered the tortillas with a mild mozzarella. They warmed in the oven. Pinching up pieces of roasted broccoli, I heaped them on the kids’ plates. It was dinnertime — just me and the kids. Since we’re moving to a “stay-at-home” order, Jeff had to haul all his woodworking equipment from the Supperland property and return it back to our garage.

My eyes scanned around our dinner table — three precious faces surrounding me — looking at me in this uncertain time like I have any idea what I’m doing. “Let’s say our blessing,” I said.

“Dear Lord,” I began.

My mouth began to quiver.

“Watch over our city. Watch over our country. Watch over our world. Put angels around my children and keep them safe. Surround them with your love, don’t leave them for a second.”

My head lowered, my face suddenly streaming with tears.

“Hold us safe in your hands and see us through this. And thank you that even though so much has been taken from us, we are still so blessed. Help us to see you, give us hope, give us direction, give us peace.”

My last words, I uttered quietly, “Amen.”

My face was soaked with tears. My daughter’s arms were wrapped around me. My head leaned onto her shoulder.

We will find our way, we are just at the beginning. Light is up ahead — we’ll just need to keep looking for it.

The kids finished dinner just as Jeff pulled into the driveway. He walked up to the back door with a surprise: flourless chocolate cake from Haberdish.

It prompted a few deafening squeals from the little people. We needed that cake.

We diced the rich, sweet treat into portions. When your fork slices it, fudgey moist chocolate makes way for a cold cream, coffee dust and chai-spiced sweet potatoes. It’s chocolatey. It’s sweet. It’s heavenly. It’s also the enemy of children’s bedtime. So I let them each have a small piece — then I kicked them out to the backyard to run circles in the pouring rain.

This morning, I found myself jumping up and down in the kitchen in glee. My arms in the air, I had just figured out my second grader’s “Google meet” all by myself. I did it just in time.

This sure is an up-and-down road.

Tuesday, March 24, 2020

The Mecklenburg County “stay at home” mandate came out this afternoon. On Thursday, all of us must remain in our homes until April 16.

Personally, that means more of the same for me: lots of hats, two-minute make-up jobs, steering homeschooling activities, working between school lessons, and the cook-feed-clean routine that happens at least three times a day. We’ll choose the backyard instead of the park. We’ll send one person at a time to the grocery. We’ll visit with neighbors by having back deck dinners at the same time across our lawns.

Pardon me if this feels a little daunting, but I’ll be frank, my house is already a mess. The kids are doing entirely too much screen time between school work and movies. There’s more bickering between my boys than I care to confess.

I know none of this matters.

We have a job to do. We need to mitigate this sickness. This is number one. And it’s number one for every person on this planet right now.

My husband, Jeff, has been hoping “shelter in place” would happen. He’s optimistic that it will help pull all of us through this more safely and more quickly.

Yes, it has all crushed our businesses—all four of them, in different ways.

Jeff doesn’t seem terribly concerned about the current state of our businesses though. “It is what it is,” he says, when he scans our numbers.

Our team is doing a phenomenal job — but we can’t do the throughput or the sales numbers through windows. Gratefully we’ve held onto about a dozen jobs —and these people will be our core group as we someday look to open again.

Among the things that people CAN do in “stay at home” is to get groceries, go to the pharmacy, take essentials to a loved one, and get take-out food.

We’ll be here for that last part.

What “stay at home” will do to our new take-out business, I have no idea. Jeff thinks business will continue to grow. It’s just an easy way to feed a family—without having to cook or clean. We’ve had a tremendous outpouring of support from the community, so I’ll stay hopeful.

Our restaurants are here to cook for you in this crisis. And when I say “our” I mean every open establishment in this city. Our chefs in town can cook for you and give you all those flavors you’ve come to love in our burgeoning foodie town.

Here we are coming upon an uncharted journey — we’ve lost our ability to move where we want. But this is when we can make a difference for our community too. By distancing ourselves, we truly can save lives. It is our turn to fight together, apart.

Monday March 23, 2020

It’s the start of a new week and the first time you can get food from our restaurants on a Monday. “Fried Chicken Mondays” just doesn’t have a great ring to it. I’ll have to think of something else.

Our businesses have always been closed on Mondays. It’s been our day of rest. It’s the day we give staff time off to just relax, and it’s the day we use for fixing things in the restaurants. Sometimes we’ll even start a project late night on Sundays so it can be ready by Tuesday morning for service at lunch.

This week, we’re hoping to build our new takeout business over in NoDa at both Haberdish and our pop-up, Bring the Queen. As our marketing person, that’s my job. It’s Week 2. And in my head I can’t help but thinking that growth = jobs. With more growth, maybe we can pull a person or two back on our team. I’m hopeful.

As we grow though, I’m also mindful that there are dozens of other local restaurateurs faced with the same predicament. We all need to grow our businesses or there’s going to be a shaking out of some key places. That’s probably going to happen anyway.

I want to give a shout out to several of our other local restaurateurs who are all journeying along with us. We are cheering for you: Paul Manley, Bruce Moffet, James and Miracle Yoder, Frank Scibelli, Rob & Meagan Crenshaw, Paul Verica, John Dressler, Joe and Katy Kindred and dozens of others.

I was sad to read that the new Goodyear House in NoDa has decided to halt to-go operations — but I get it. They just opened this year, and they’ve been asked to completely modify their offering and pass food out of doors or windows. It doesn’t always jive. Jeff and I ate at Goodyear House the second week, and we loved it. The interior was lovely — it felt like home. They were more than accommodating with my dietary restrictions, and the place had a great energy about it. We look forward to going back … someday. All our best, Chris Coleman.

Sunday March 22, 2020

We’re nestled in the Bible belt, and all across our city this morning, the streets are stone still. I watched a service on TV. In the last few days, I’ve been reminded of the verse, “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, blessed be the name of the Lord.”

We spent 10 years building our businesses, and now, they’ve become a minuscule reflection of what we had created. I hope it’s just for the short term.

I haven’t cursed God about any of this. He has a plan, and I’m curious what He’s doing because I don’t believe in accidents.

About a year and a half ago, I was in the throes of a magnificently difficult obstacle in the shape of a severe mental illness. Nightly, I would crouch to the floor of my bedroom, my bare hands scraping the wood panels in agony. God never left me then. He was there everyday in my darkness. He opened my eyes toward answers. He’s here now, too.

Maybe we need new ideas, new ways of doing things. Maybe we’ll become more grateful. Maybe this will make us harder workers. Maybe our children need to feel the plight of not having everything. Maybe our kids need to see life isn’t perfect. Maybe we need to see that, too. Maybe we need to get back to basics — family time, love, bonding. Maybe we need to learn how much we need one another — and then love one another more fully, with more joy, with more kindness.

Today, our family attended my niece’s virtual second birthday on Facebook. I also got some cooking done. I cook a lot. My diet is so restrictive I have to make the majority of my meals. But we’re ALL cooking a lot these days, trying to stay in the home. So, I thought I’d share the Plantain Bread recipe I make every other week.

I’ll be honest, these aren’t the BEST muffins in the world. But that’s not my priority. These muffins are made of ingredients my body can tolerate — add some sugar or honey for yourself to get a little more flavor. These are grain-free, egg-free, nut-seed-free, dairy-free and sugar-free. I can’t eat many fruits, but plantains are a safe one, so that’s the base of the recipe.

People often ask me how I can eat the way I do and be in the restaurant business. I eat this way because it has granted me the largest gift I could ever ask for — mental peace. I stay right here because I have happiness, hope, and joy back in my life.

Plantain Muffins

Makes about 15 muffins (depending on the size)

Wet ingredients

2 1/2 large plantains, peeled

1/2 cup coconut oil (plus a little extra for greasing muffin pan)

1 pack Gelatine (considered “wet” because it will be mixed with water)

1/4 cup water (to dissolve the Gelatine)

1/2 cup coconut cream (canned)

Dry ingredients

2 cups cassava flour

1 1/3 tsp baking soda

1 tsp cinnamon

2/3 tsp cream of tartar

1 tsp salt

1 tsp cinnamon

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Use coconut oil to grease your muffin pans. If you’re a butter-eater (lucky you), you can use butter.

In large bowl, mix together dry ingredients (except for Gelatine).

Separately, puree the wet ingredients in blender (including the Gelatine). You can do it by hand, but plantains are much tougher than bananas. Once the puree is smooth, mix it in with the dry ingredients by hand. Mix until well mixed, but don’t over-stir.

Glop spoonfuls of the mix into your greased muffin pan.

Place in oven for 35 minutes (small muffins) or 45 minutes for larger muffins. Ovens vary, so check if they’re done by pricking them and cook another 5 minutes if necessary.

Serve plain, with coconut oil, or with a big slab of grass-fed butter. You can keep them on the counter or in the fridge. I tend to put them in the microwave for 15 seconds to warm them up.

ENJOY! :)

Saturday, March 21, 2020

I tucked my little boys into bed and walked over to our bedroom. The lights were out, but Jeff was laying on the bed checking his phone. His feet were crossed, and his toes doing their ritualistic curling. I don’t know why he does that, but anytime he’s sitting still, he’s really not.

I sat crosslegged next to him. “How do numbers look?” I asked. It was Friday night.

“We’re doing pretty well,” he said. He smiled and slowly shook his head. Our numbers have dropped to about 20% of our prior business.

“Good to hear,” I uttered quietly. Faint rustling sounds came from down the hallway — it was the boys doing their nightly ritual of building forts with pillows propped around their little bodies.

I left to take a blazing hot shower and then slid on a sweatshirt and sweatpants. When I’m feeling slightly anxious, heat always helps me. Water does, too. Sometimes I’ll just drop and do 15 push-ups — that helps build warmth. Or I’ll use a hair dryer under a blanket and do squats at the same time. I always lock the door so no one comes in when that’s happening.

Socially secluding ourselves as a family feels very unnatural. We’re in the hospitality business. We love being around people. This has been an adjustment. But our family has found a place of refuge. It’s a triangular block in the heart of Plaza Midwood. And it’s where we’re building our next restaurant, Supperland.

Today, I packed up a paper bag of paint brushes, old acrylic paints I never have time to use, and some paper plates. The kids and I are painting a section of the cocktail bar’s interior wall over at the space.

Bright hues of orange and blue and green. Yellows mixed with reds — all splashing on the muted lumber wall. It’s giving us hope. It’s giving us something peaceful to do. It’s giving us somewhere to go, and something to relish in. It’s giving us a chance to put energy and love into this place in a different way.

Jeff and I used to do that in NoDa — long before we opened our first spot, Crepe Cellar. We’d sit on a NoDa neighborhood bench, or walk down the street. Sometimes we could catch a posse of hulu hoopers, or listen to a spontaneous drum circle. Other times we’d drive through the neighborhood and circle back around — just to feel it and imagine what could be — putting our energy and time into a place we believed in with all our hearts.

We’re now getting the time to do that with this church restoration project.

Someday, over at Supperland, our childish painted wall will be covered up with drywall and then overlayed with a gorgeous floral wallpaper in pinks and greens. But forever, we’ll know what’s underneath — remnants of a time when we needed hope as a family.

That’s probably the type of place this building was meant to be in the first place. A place for hope. More than 50 years later, it keeps giving.

Friday, March 20, 2020

On a day like today, I used to post a mouthwatering picture of fried chicken from the Haberdish Instagram account. I’d use words like “Fri-yay” and hashtags like #tgif and #friedchickenfriday. Today, we’re still nose to the grindstone, to figure this new business out. We’ve gotten a better feeling of the hours we need to be open. We’ve communicated our new business offering to the community. We’ve answered PR calls, sorted out how we’re handling tips and created a new sanitation protocol for our window businesses.

I think we’ve all gone through our fair share of the grieving process, and I’m sure there’s more to come — but what I sense now is joy in creation, in rebuilding, in restoring what we had built the last ten years as a team.

It’s made me ponder about if this whole process had gone differently. Midway through this week, our business went from super successful to $0. Literally. Our business no longer existed as it was set up to be. If our business had slowly started to trickle down as people became more and more fearful of COVID-19, that would have felt worse — like a slow, painful breakup.

Just do it already. Rip off the Band-Aid.

In a way I think we’re blessed because when you start at $0, there’s no where to go but up. Our small team is excited, we’re engaged, and while we’re bruised, we’re starting to have fun with it.

Colleen Hughes, our renowned head mixologist, is going to start sealing up drinks and mixers for our take-out menu. Now, you can really bring the party home. She’s got at least two drinks starting today. We’re going to test these at Haberdish and see how they do. Then we may roll them over to our “pop up” menu, Bring the Queen.

There are a lot more COVID-19 cases here in Charlotte and we feel like we’re probably moving to a “shelter in place” situation soon. Like everyone else in this industry, we have no idea what that means for our businesses. We’ve been watching Seattle and New York City, and it seems to-go food is still trucking along, but we don’t know how our city will react.

Most importantly, we must keep one another healthy.

Charlotte, please give one another space. Please refrain from big meet ups on the basketball courts. Please be smart about washing your hands. We’re all in this together — meaning we all have to do our part. It’s here. Let’s contain it, let’s beat it. Then we can all get back together and celebrate.

Thursday, March 19, 2020

I slept better last night. Our day was a little more settled. I had time to cook, and Jeff came home for dinner. We all ate together—browned skin-on chicken thighs, and char-roasted vegetables. I sautéed onions in the leftover chicken fat, and they came out sweet and rich.

I still cannot fathom that our business is down to a dozen people passing food out of windows. It’s a very strange feeling. I keep thinking about the word “defenestrate” — this process is literally our lifeline.

Yesterday was about getting our skeleton crew running with online orders and ready to pass bags of food out the Crepe Cellar window for our new “pop up” menu. The menu combines items from Crepe Cellar and Growlers Pourhouse that we thought would be good take-home meals. It was right at 4 p.m. when a few orders pinged the POS. I felt giggly about it. One of our managers said, “I feel like it’s our first day of business! I’m so excited!” I felt the same.

In three days, we went from hundreds of orders to handfuls, and we were hyped up about it. Amazing when you’re starting from zero— how celebratory any wins.

What I see in the food community is a whole lot of love. I’m reminded why I savor this industry. The people are incredibly resilient. They’re creative. They’re servants. They’re proud. They’re humble. They’re often broken and bruised and they rise above it.

This will test us all, but we will rise over it. You’re already seeing that.

We still haven’t been able to reopen Reigning Doughnuts. I know it seems strange — because it is a walk up window. But, this type of business requires selling a certain number of doughnuts each day. If we can’t do that, it’s not worth turning the machine on. We’re waiting to see how numbers track with our other businesses in this very bizarre situation.

On another note, home schooling is going better today.

This COVID crisis, for us, was a family crisis. Two days ago, homeschooling looked more like the reality of an unrested frantic mother trying to start a new business in one day; not freak out about letting 85 team members go; slap on a second coat of make up before a TV interview (where I knew I’d drip mascara down my cheeks a second time); and forgetting to feed my kids.

This morning we went for a family walk—me and the three kids. I gave each of them a bag to collect nature. Then we sat on the back deck and shared what we found. We also collected worms for our garden. We found one that was six inches long and a wriggly little thing. I had to bat him into the cup with a stick while he bounced off the sidewalk. That made the kids laugh.

We picked about a dozen pieces of our asparagus — it’s incredibly prolific this time of year. My daughter showed me a single white flower she found with the most miniature purple lines on it. She also directed us in our own live portrayal of Beedle and the Bard. I had to play the role of “Death”.

We’re getting there.

Now that we’re set up for online orders through haberdish.com and BringtheQueen.com, my job is to help it grow. My next task is this: how to help those we had to cut this week. I’ve set up a GoFundMe site so we can raise money for the 85 people who we no longer have work for — these are our dishwashers, food runners, servers, bartenders, line cooks and prep cooks.

I have to pause. I still can’t believe it. Our industry is doing it’s part to keep our community healthy. This is the toll.

If you’re in a place to give, please consider it. You’ll be lifting up some people who could really use all of our help right now.

Wednesday, March 18, 2020

I’ve seen my husband cry four times in my life. Make that five. We had to let go of 85 members of our team yesterday. He couldn’t get the words to fall out of his mouth.

After it all happened, I stood inside Haberdish in the midst of a TV interview, and I saw one of our dishwashers, Carlos, walking toward the front door. His eyes were wet. He’s been with Haberdish since we opened. He shook his head in disbelief, his shoulders shrugged. “Thank you,” he said. Then he hugged me.

I hid myself so I wouldn’t lose my potatoes on screen. The camera man had mercy and pointed it the other way. I meant to tell him thank you.

It was early afternoon. My kids were hunkered in a booth trying to do some semblance of home schooling in this family crisis. Suddenly I realized I never fed them. I walked toward the kitchen and saw Chef Chris (soon to be Exec Chef at Supperland). I lost it. “I forgot to feed my children lunch,” I sobbed.

“I got you,” he said.

He brought out bananas and deviled eggs. The little people were happy.

In the middle of the night, I wondered if I would wake up and realize this was all just a dream. That we still have our bustling restaurants. That everything we had built was still alive. That all those people were still a part of my family.

It was not a dream.

In a strange way, I feel so grateful that it hurts so badly. Isn’t it lovely to know something you’re doing matters? Whatever happens from here, this truly mattered to me. We’ve made a special thing.

I feel stronger today. Less weepy, plus it’s go time. We managed to start Haberdish’s online orders last night. Today is the day we need to get Crepe Cellar and Growlers Pourhouse online orders going. We’re doing it a little unconventionally because we thought it would be “buzzier”, and allow us to create a menu that meshes the food from the two concepts together.

Remember that list I said we had to do yesterday? We did it. We’ve got a website, we’ve got a menu, we’ve got our chefs ready.

Earlier today, I drove over to NoDa and found my way to some glass cleaner and paper towels, a bucket and cloth—and I scrubbed the outside window at Crepe Cellar. That’s where we’ll launch our pop up business, Bring the Queen. As I scrubbed and wiped and swept, my thoughts drifted backward … to ten and a half years ago.

I remembered the first night we were opening Crepe Cellar and we rolled napkins for an hour with our new team. I also thought about how I would sit on a stool outside the door on the old Gallery Crawl nights, with a huge wine barrel as a table. I would introduce myself to passersby and collect email addresses. The night when we opened our doors, people actually came. They were people we didn’t know, and it all felt so surreal.

That was the recession. We started with nothing.

I drifted back to the present. Something happened once Haberdish became so successful, Jeff and I kind of “became” people in the community. I had never been that person before. Even though we hadn’t changed, people recognized us or they’d say they loved our restaurants. I’d walk in Haberdish and it would be chock full of people who came to dine with us.

There were hundreds of orders. At this moment, that’s all gone.

I wipe another window in front of me, scrubbing street dirt off our white paneling.

Maybe there’s something lovely in the humility of all of this. We don’t have Olga to wipe down the windows. We don’t have Berta to sweep the floor. We don’t have Carlos to get the dust pan. It was just me.

People are asking if they can buy gift cards. Yes, on our websites. You can. It actually makes a great gift for someone who is struggling with making ends meet right now. You can also make online to-go orders at www.haberdish.com and www.bringthequeen.com — open just 4 p.m.-8 p.m. and we’ll see how it goes.

We’re starting from scratch, and it starts today.

Later Tuesday, March 17

Well, there are no secrets, this is life right now. I do see light, it feels far away, but it’s out there. Today, we had to let 85 people go. These are the people who have built our restaurants, the industrious workers who have showed up day after day, year after year. I am beyond grateful for everyone of our teammates that we had to cut today. I miss them and just the thought of them already. I’m also thankful for the tiny shell of a team we have left. Our job is to try to get the ship through the storm. I look forward to the day when we can have our WHOLE family back. We will most certainly celebrate ... and there will be sun, and hope, and laughter, and food. Lots of food.

Tuesday, March 17, 2020

It’s not really a surprise, but I have struggled with stress the last couple of days. Over the course of the last year and a half, after struggling with severe anxiety, I went with this fringe research that suggested that certain foods can actually cause anxiety. I’ve lived it. It’s real. And I’ve gotten myself to a place where only high-stress situations (like, say, a pandemic and threats of business closure) really get to me.

In these times, I’m sticking super tight to my eating regimen to help ease my mind. That means: several tablespoons of coconut oil each day, small high-fat breakfasts, eating only my safe foods, chewing my food until it’s liquified in my mouth, eating smaller meals and drinking lots of water. I’m also not attempting any food re-introductions. It’s not the time for progress in this arena.

I woke up this morning at 3:30 a.m. I didn’t even wake out of anxiety. I woke out of eagerness. There’s a lot to do.

We’re going to launch a new online ordering option — a pop-up pick-up window with “contact free” delivery and curbside pick-up. The food will all come out of the Crepe Cellar, Growlers Pourhouse and Reigning Doughnut’s kitchens.

Orders will be placed online only. We will prompt users for staff tips at the time of order. The menu will be built around family-style sharable items that encourage customers to think about their next two to four meals.

We just have to make a menu, choose a name, build a website, figure out logistics, communicate we’re open for orders, change our insurance (to cover delivery drivers), and get our team trained up. For now, today is the first day we’re open after the weekend. Here’s hoping this week marks a turn toward online and phone orders at all our spots. We’ve got to ramp up fast.

Monday, March 16, 2020

It’s the first day of homeschooling. My daughter is an organizer, and she took the lead on planning out our school programming. We have math blocks, free time, “specials” and reading time. We also had a dance party yesterday afternoon, but I found myself over by the kitchen swaying, looking out the window, tears running down my face. But, our home is safe.

Many other generations have had to send their boys off to war. This is a different type of war, but we can battle in a peaceful setting and be around loved ones.

Today we are meeting with our managers to determine our next course of action with the restaurants. Honestly, we’re just buying time at this point to come up with alternative revenue solutions (online, pick-up and delivery).

We know we will likely have to close for dine-in service.

The outcome of our managers meeting is this: we’re removing tables at both Haberdish and Crepe Cellar. We’re trying to abide by the 6 foot rule the CDC is suggesting. Our bar will sit parties together, but there will be intentional space between other diners.

We’re just buying time. The writing is on the wall. NYC closed restaurants. We’re just days behind that. We’ll have new online, pick-up and delivery options by the end of the week. It’s just got to happen fast.

This afternoon, Jeff sent me a picture of all our broken down tables from Crepe Cellar and Haberdish in our storage unit. This was his caption: “A million dollars worth of revenue a year now in a storage locker. We did it.”

My response: “Well done honey.”

I’ve somberly noted: getting to the other side of this might require dropping dear ones off our ship into the lifeboats of “unemployment” just so we have the stamina to get our boat to the other side of the storm. We just hope we can all meet up on the other side. We have such a tremendous team, and my heart is aching.

Sunday, March 15, 2020

This morning I went to Whole Foods. I did my food “prepping” three weeks ago — to make sure we had enough shelf stable goods for our family. With my kids eating a gluten free diet, and me on my super restrictive diet, I needed to make sure we all had the right stuff. Today was just about back-filling produce, and it became quite clear people aren’t making a run on things like celery, leeks and cilantro. I’ll make it another week.

On the restaurant front, we’re down about 15 percent overall. We’re just hoping for another “above the red” week. At night I pray for angels to spread their wings and cover our city and keep us all safe. I pray also that scientists will find a way to protect us with a vaccine.

Today I’m thinking about last fall and it makes me smile. The carefree, out and about, lively world we were living in ... and how it has all come to a halt. These uncertain times make me especially grateful for those past moments of bliss. They also make me hopeful for the future — that we will rebuild, we will rise up, we will be in a time of peace again. And when we get there, may we pause at the beginning of each day, and at the end of each day, and be exuberantly grateful for the beautiful time we’re in.

Who knows what this week will bring.

Saturday, March 14, 2020

Today, we should have two soccer games. We should also have a backyard full of neighborhood kids in our lawn this afternoon. They love to congregate on our lot and fiddle with their workshops, play soccer or happily collect miniature flowers.

But this Saturday will be different. I woke up this morning, and sent a note to my close-by neighborhood friends. I told them we’re sequestering our children for two weeks — and then we’ll figure out a plan from there.

Having all those neighborhood kids in my yard is literally one of my favorite things in life. It is a dream. But even that is on pause as we retreat in uncertainty.

Life is slower right now in a lot of ways. I’m not that hurried mom trying to get her kids to activities and blustering around to get my kids experiences. Discovery Place is closed. Soccer has been canceled. School has been called off. Playdates are out.

Maybe when there are more test kits. Maybe when we determine the mortality rate is not as severely high as we thought (#hopeful). Maybe when the summer heat comes and kills colds. Maybe then, we can all get back together.

We’ve just learned that our schools will be closed Monday after all. It’s time to pivot to becoming a restaurant owner and a home-schooling mom. We’ll adjust. What about other families in this city?

Friday, March 13, 2020

What do you know, it’s Friday the 13th. I am spending the day in the front window at Haberdish. I always love this seat.

Our team is doing a tremendous job. They all have new responsibilities, and they have to clean every hour throughout the customer areas. They’re doing a great job. I’m proud of all of them.

I have begun to feel a restoration of hope because we’re being proactive, because we still have a small number of cases in Mecklenburg County, because people showed up again today at our restaurants. But, I’m finishing up my arugula and grilled chicken salad scrolling through instagram, and it is suddenly changing.

Local brewery, Sycamore Brewing, just announced it is closing up.

Don’t spiral down, Jamie. Just don’t spiral down.

There are a lot of things to think through in a time like this. There’s safety, health, staff, jobs, rent, labor costs. I know safety and health come first. Then we also have to think about the 95 people we need to take care of in a variety of other ways.

We know people need to eat. There will be a huge shift in food needs in the home. We can help with this, we just have to find an alternative way — and we’re going to have act fast to keep the ship from sinking.

Thursday, March 12, 2020

This was a notable day for the whole country, but I feel like this was the first day the COVID-19 pandemic really hit here. Basketball, events, concerts — all canceled.

Despite all the cancellations, I actually feel more at peace today. Maybe because I’m sensing action throughout the country — and that should slow the growth of this virus. I also feel a little better because we had people in the restaurants today. I don’t know what I expected, but I just feel grateful that people showed up.

In the midst of all of this, there are sprouts of hope that this will just be for the short term. Our team at Crepe Cellar moved forward with testing Spring dishes. I found myself relishing in the beauty of the new items because, honestly, it gives me peace that we’re still working on frivolous things. These lovely, somewhat insignificant touches of life are the things that get clouded over in hard times.

All signs of hope — and it makes me wonder what good things will come out of this unique time.

Wednesday, March 11, 2020

This morning was really lovely. I met our menu designer over at Supperland to walk through our interior design plan. It’s time to work on our menus — that place will be so beautiful and unique. I can see it.

But it’s evening now. I’m a little less ecstatic.

March has been an incredible test of my mental health — going through the current pandemic and being in the restaurant business. I find myself overwhelmingly thankful that I was able to get to these consistently-stable days just two months ago with my diet. I figured it out.

Today, though, I’m not feeling strong. I feel caught up, concerned that this sickness is knocking at my door. That in the night, a shrouded demon will come and take all of us, or worse, take everyone but me and I’ll be left here alone. I’m worried I’ll have to sit beside my children’s bed with a mask on, unable to touch their skin and cover them with kisses. God have mercy.

What if my twin sister, who is a Type 1 diabetic, falls ill? She has a compromised immune system. Will I have to bid her goodbye over flipping Facetime? There’s too much to say, too much in a lifetime to express. I can’t do that over the phone. What if we have to close the restaurants and we aren’t ever able to open again? What if all these people who work for us and are counting on us for stable jobs aren’t able to make ends meet? What if they live in the fear and darkness that I’ve struggled with so terribly in the past?

It’s late. I must think more sanely.

As I lay in bed tonight, I know in my world, all really is well. My kids are tucked in. My family is healthy. Everyone laughed today. We ate well, we spent time together. Our businesses are still open. We are all right, right now. We will face whatever comes tomorrow ... tomorrow.

I’ll put this computer down and kiss my children one more time before I go to sleep.

Tuesday, March 10, 2020

We’re still holding steady — this is always our busiest time of year.

I actually feel quite hopeful right now because every day, my life is sprinkled with business excitement around the progress of the Supperland build out. It’s such an incredible project to restore an old church in this fast-growing city. We’re in the midst of designing our own plates — and they’re gorgeous! We’re creating a video series to tell a more in depth story. We’re picking tile, and we received our custom-made purple booths. There’s so much to geek out about.

We’re also having so much fun with the changes at our other spots. Reigning Doughnuts has new spring flavors. Growlers launched a whole new menu. It just feels like we’re in a groove.

I know there are a lot of concerns right now, but there’s a lot to be thankful for, a lot to look forward to.

This story was originally published March 17, 2020 at 12:22 PM with the headline "As COVID restrictions disappear, Charlotte restaurant owner asks: ‘Are we ready to unmask?’."