Almost
We were hoping to be open by May 5, at the latest, but the usual happened. One guy held up another guy from finishing his job, so yet another guy has to wait for that guy to finish so he can get done what he has to get done—and then everyone needs more money. It drags on and on. I don’t recommend gutting a place and trying to build a restaurant from rubble and dirt. Who knew such a sweet little spot could demand so much? It’s been tough to hold on to the spark that shot me into this thing when it feels like it’s just spitting me out. It bangs up your faith because you start thinking it’s you that’s making it take so damn long. It’s lonesome waiting for something to begin. You’re out in the wind with just self-doubt and a bunch of expectations to keep you company.
Even though there are days I wish I were somewhere else, somehow I still feel I am in the right spot. This place is about forgiveness. No matter what pain and agony have gone into building it, this is still the place that’s going to give me a shot—a moment, a chance—to put something I believe in out there. I am not a builder, or a plumber, or a painter, or an electrician, or a metalworker, or a gas man. I’m the last guy who gets to do his job in this restaurant. The longer I have to wait, the deeper in doubt I get, and the farther I am from where I’ve been and what I’ve done and where I want to go. I am doing all I can to hold on to that one note I want to kick this place off with and build around.
Nobody really knows what I am about to do. Nobody knows how I got here. Nobody knows my certainty and the way I see it coming together. I can write about it, explain it, get drunk and wave my arms around about it. But until I get my shot, it’s just me, one guy, trying to explain himself enough to put it together. The closer I get to opening, the more tenuous and strained it starts to feel.
My mom called me from Switzerland while I was writing this and said, “I’m worried about how you’re going to do the potatoes. I woke up at three in the morning thinking about it. If you do them the way you said, I don’t think it will work.”
I said, “I know. They’ll be too soft.”
Then she went on and said, “I’ve been testing it. You just need 25 minutes to do it right.”
Then she said, “Are you excited?”
I said, “I don’t think excited is the word.”
I think I’m nervous. I’m nervous about what’s about to change and happen and where it will lead. I’m nervous about not getting across what I’m trying to do. I’m nervous about losing what has led me here and the places and people I used to know. I can’t just get up and find them now. I’m dug in; they’ll have to come find me.
That took waaay too long.
All those months of rent or mortgage payments during renovation? Yikes!
I gutted and reno’d a spot a few doors up from Union in 2 1/2 months. And I mean GUTTED. Floors and ceilings leveled, electrical, plumbing, new stairs, basement parging, structural fix-its, the works. I’m not bragging, it’s pretty average for the Ossington strip.
It’s not what I do either, but I had good help. Building a place of business from the ground up was a truly satisfying experience, physically and mentally.
Sometimes philosophy gets in the way of creation, I suppose.
All your concerns are classic for the Artist…every artist has the same doubts, loneliness, questioning.
You are in a difficult postiion….not being able to do your art. Something you will never forget…not being able to do your stuff is seriously crazy making!
But soon it will open, it will be great, and all these concerns will be history.
Truly.
Welcome to being an artist.
Not an easy road, but it’s certainly worth it.
xxBarbara K
cooking is a craft
not art
– creating is an art –
And it will be amazing!
Can’t wait, Teo. Can’t wait for you to be able to show the naysayers just how wrong they are… and cooking IS an art.
xoxox
Hey – Great job thus far. It reminds me of how I saw my father back in te 80’s building CENTRO!. He had to dig, underpin, shore, pour, nail, bang, and of course yell ;). Like you, he was the only one seeing the end result that went deeper and beyond the final coat of paint.
Someone should have told you – what journey you were going to begin! It seems you were ‘surprised’ at all the setbacks. Well, next time you will know!. And apparently, after a year or two, you will be ready to do it all over again!
Congratulations!
Kate
Hang in there. Soon it will all be over and you’ll begin a new journey. When your restaurant is full and people are enjoying your craft the renovation will be a distant memory.
So close, I can almost taste it!!!
teo,
can’t wait to see you – i’ll be coming to toronto-town the first weekend of July for a wedding. and i’ll be hungry.
~e
The anticipation surrounding something that is and will be so great, but has miles of obstacles to overcome before fruition is what I find so nerve racking… Rest assured, one issue at a time, god forbid we look too far into the future as it would drive us to drink… I’ve begun not to set goals on a daily basis here on the farm, because if I do, I just know something will pop up and derail any plans I put in stone. The big picture is beautiful.
Jimmy Mac – in the big Meaf.
“Through out the world sounds one long cry from the heart of the artist:give me the chance to do my very best”
It is an unavoidable quest, if is in your heart.As lonesome and cumbersome as sometimes I find that route, I am convinced that you cant help but walk in the path that you think is right as an artist. Its not easy at all.it tests your faith in yourself and others, it tests your strength,your resistance, your principles …But if you keep looking, full-hearted as I think you are, you -person and artist-will get better with every obstacle..stronger, more humble, more real…and you will find your way, your dream fulfilled-(Until you are out again for your next quest…)
it’s all worth it!
R