Cathy’s place

What did I just do!

Ever since I was little I wanted to own a restaurant. I used to spend hours in my grandmothers kitchen making cakes and cookies, narrating like I was on the cooking channel. I am sure I must have given my family a lot of laughs, but they always encouraged me and my love for all things food. As I grew into my teenage years I did that thing all kids do, I stopped pursuing my uncool hobbies to better fit in with the popular kids. Always complaining when I was forced to help bake cookies for Christmas but secretly glad to have the excuse. I think it hurt my grandma a little when I pulled away from cooking, it was what we bonded over when I was little and watching me deny it felt like I was denying her. I stayed that way, in a holding pattern, for a long time. Until my life tumbled upside down and I finally got the push I needed to move away from my oppressive hometown. It was hard for a few years, working long hours for poor pay, learning what freeway traffic really was, trying to deal with the fallout of old relationships and the struggle of a new city. That really took me away from cooking, it took me away from everything. I was sad and angry and scared. We were so broke we had a roommate in our one bedroom apartment and we spent 9 months without a table or chairs. All of my passions fell off the radar of life for several years, until finally we started to learn how to manage our new life. We got new jobs, a better house, and some furniture. We had time again, and energy to take care of our souls. It started slowly for me, making old recipes from home, a comfort meal here, a batch of cookies there. Things to make the house smell good, flavors that brought me joy. I didn’t experiment much in the early days, just cooking what I knew would be delicious. As we found our footing and worked our way into our dreams I got bolder. Adding my own ingredients to my grandmother’s spaghetti recipes, tasting things I was scared of, using Christmas as a time to experiment on my friends. I never really thought it would go any deeper than that, I figured cooking would always be where I found my peace, something I would pass on to my kids and grandkids, to add a little joy into the world. Then the world spiraled.

I’m standing outside the front doors of the building I just bought, an old hollowed out brick building in the heart of downtown. Too expensive to contemplate and a workload that has my pulse pounding. What did I do! I keep asking myself. Deep breath, deep breath, you can do this. You are standing in front of your deepest dream, you did the math, and you can make this work.

No, I can’t, who the hell buys a restaurant in the middle of a global crisis, this is a horrible idea, and there is no possible way this will work!

My internal battle rages on as I unlock the front doors. I have a team of friends showing up in an hour, people I plied with good will to help me, knowing I need to save every penny I can for the inevitable unforeseen maintenance bomb I know is waiting somewhere inside. I have to get myself under control before they arrive. I have 2 months to get this up and running before I have to throw my focus back into my day job. I am not expecting to turn much of a profit here, especially not in the first few years, I’m hoping to maybe break even but I’m not holding my breath. I’m relying so much on my family and friends to help with this, I feel a little guilty but it’s for a good cause!

I’m inside the building now, looking around, turning slowly inside what I hope will be a gathering spot. I am starting to see it, my heart rate is slowing down my panic being swallowed by the hope for what this will be. The bar in the back with the cute comfy stools that line you up to talk to the bartender, you can order a cup of coffee, a shot of whisky or a glass of water, it’s all the same to us here. The dining room is simple and bright, colorful walls and decorations help put you at ease and let you know we’re all here to have a little fun and share a little light. The floors are shiny but well worn, the food is hot. We serve comfort food here, not all of it southern. Sure you can get apple pie made with local apples, biscuits and gravy and fried chicken. But you can also get spaghetti, a homemade burrito, a bowl of tomato soup or a cup of coffee mixed with Irish cream and Yukon Jack. We want to make you feel comfort no matter what that looks like. Which means, if you can’t pay, you don’t. I told you I wasn’t planning to make money here. This is my passion for the world, my way to give back. I hope to strike a balance, for those who can give, to give just a little extra to help support those who can’t. The world is crumbling. We need to paste each other back together.

The door opens, bringing me out of my vision, my friends walk in carrying a homemade banner that they hang over my door, the real sign won’t be ready for a few more weeks but watching them put that up over the door makes me cry a little.

Future home of Cathy’s Place, a 24/7 dinner, come as you are, be as you are, you’ll only find love here.

I love you grandma.

Let’s get to work.