There are more addicts in the restaurant business than any other industry in the country. A pretty powerful statement coming from someone who spent 21 days at a facility in Minnesota before realizing how exciting sobriety can be. That was before I was in the restaurant business.
Once I got out of the restaurant industry I had to go cold turkey to conquer my addiction to that drug. And, although I seldom, if ever, think about standing, tall Stoli Martinis, extra dry- with a twist- I do on accession hanker, drool, long for and experience the infrequent cold sweat when running across a possible great restaurant location.
This past weekend I ran into, or had conversations regarding, three friends who definitely need to kick their habit.
The first encounter was between me and a fellow restaurant owner whom I met 13 years ago while he was riding his bicycle down a back street of
I was anxious to meet a culinary Greg LeMond so I voiced no objection. It wasn’t long after that the rider had signed a lease on a space on the
Another friend who has owned and sold and owned and sold more than a handful of eateries is yet to open another concept emporium which I am sure he will look to roll out and eventually turn into a large chain.
And finally, a very close friend who is one of the best salesmen I have ever met and is in a business that spends money on lunch and dinner but doesn’t own any culinary properties called me the other evening and wanted to know if I had a contact in the restaurant equipment world- he wanted to open up a restaurant.
Yes, the addiction is rampant as addict world grows and rows. Whether it’s the FOX Network, the Food Channel, the Travel Channel or just a knife wielding infomercial we are surrounded by the fantasy that the business is filled with glamour and stardom, celebrity and cash.
It amazes me how many people continue to hanker for the position at the door of a busy room or the bartender’s station at the far end of the hook. Yet, as I prepared to take the first bite of my entrée last Thursday evening in my standard Thursday evening place, I realized my pork was undercooked and the risotto was just a clump of starch laced with Sage.
Where’s Gordon Ramsey when you need him?