Your Restaurant
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Food truck.
Making $100k a year would be pretty much in the bag. Might not sound like much, but compare that to what happens with every other restaurant you can possibly imagine: dead in 2 years. I'll take the sustained income, thanks.
@Aqua-Letifer said in Your Restaurant:
Food truck.
Making $100k a year would be pretty much in the bag. Might not sound like much, but compare that to what happens with every other restaurant you can possibly imagine: dead in 2 years. I'll take the sustained income, thanks.
Aqua nailed this. These are by far one of the most profitable types of restaurants. On top of that, complete control of the hours. There are so many stories of culinary types starting with a food truck, being tremendously successful, opening a brick and mortar and regretting it immediately.
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Mine...
My Uncle Mitchell (pronounced Mih-shell) owned a Main Street cafe named The Dining Room. Only open for breakfast and lunch, it catered to the city hall, businessmen and retail workers, mostly.
Checkerboard floors, vinyl checkerboard tablecloths with a red or white cloth tablecloth catty-cornered on top. An honest-to-God lunch counter with the rotating barstools.
Breakfast was usually eggs cooked to order with sides like bacon or sausage, biscuits & gravy, pancakes or waffles. Some of the best coffee in town with free refills.
Lunch was whatever the cook wanted to cook. Oh, you could find red beans and rice on Mondays or fried fish on Fridays, but other than that, it was usually whatever vegetables were in season and what Bessie felt like cooking. Usually there was a choice of the meat (hey, not everybody likes liver and onions). Beef stew, fresh pork jambalaya, chicken gumbo, chicken fried steak, etc. All good. Had to walk or drive by the cafe in the morning to check out what was written on the blackboard for the lunch menu.
Since this was blue plate special type stuff, dessert was included. Fortunate was the day when Bessie had fresh peaches, because peach cobbler was on the menu. That big black woman could make the best damn peach cobbler you ever wrapped your lips around. Had enough spice in it, that every now and then some of the cinnamon or nutmeg would kick a peach out on the tablecloth just for spite.
Lots of business done in that old cafe. Lawyers discussing divorce cases. Business deals. Every day people with everyday, small town gossip. Kind of a gentle buzz of acquaintances and friends, fixing the world around a mouth full of food.
Yeah, I'd like a place like that...
“Cry havoc and let slip the DOGE of war!”
Those who cheered as J-6 American prisoners were locked in solitary for 18 months without trial, now suddenly fight tooth and nail for foreign terrorists’ "due process". — Buck Sexton
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Mine...
My Uncle Mitchell (pronounced Mih-shell) owned a Main Street cafe named The Dining Room. Only open for breakfast and lunch, it catered to the city hall, businessmen and retail workers, mostly.
Checkerboard floors, vinyl checkerboard tablecloths with a red or white cloth tablecloth catty-cornered on top. An honest-to-God lunch counter with the rotating barstools.
Breakfast was usually eggs cooked to order with sides like bacon or sausage, biscuits & gravy, pancakes or waffles. Some of the best coffee in town with free refills.
Lunch was whatever the cook wanted to cook. Oh, you could find red beans and rice on Mondays or fried fish on Fridays, but other than that, it was usually whatever vegetables were in season and what Bessie felt like cooking. Usually there was a choice of the meat (hey, not everybody likes liver and onions). Beef stew, fresh pork jambalaya, chicken gumbo, chicken fried steak, etc. All good. Had to walk or drive by the cafe in the morning to check out what was written on the blackboard for the lunch menu.
Since this was blue plate special type stuff, dessert was included. Fortunate was the day when Bessie had fresh peaches, because peach cobbler was on the menu. That big black woman could make the best damn peach cobbler you ever wrapped your lips around. Had enough spice in it, that every now and then some of the cinnamon or nutmeg would kick a peach out on the tablecloth just for spite.
Lots of business done in that old cafe. Lawyers discussing divorce cases. Business deals. Every day people with everyday, small town gossip. Kind of a gentle buzz of acquaintances and friends, fixing the world around a mouth full of food.
Yeah, I'd like a place like that...
@Jolly said in Your Restaurant:
Mine...
My Uncle Mitchell (pronounced Mih-shell) owned a Main Street cafe named The Dining Room. Only open for breakfast and lunch, it catered to the city hall, businessmen and retail workers, mostly.
Checkerboard floors, vinyl checkerboard tablecloths with a red or white cloth tablecloth catty-cornered on top. An honest-to-God lunch counter with the rotating barstools.
Breakfast was usually eggs cooked to order with sides like bacon or sausage, biscuits & gravy, pancakes or waffles. Some of the best coffee in town with free refills.
Lunch was whatever the cook wanted to cook. Oh, you could find red beans and rice on Mondays or fried fish on Fridays, but other than that, it was usually whatever vegetables were in season and what Bessie felt like cooking. Usually there was a choice of the meat (hey, not everybody likes liver and onions). Beef stew, fresh pork jambalaya, chicken gumbo, chicken fried steak, etc. All good. Had to walk or drive by the cafe in the morning to check out what was written on the blackboard for the lunch menu.
Since this was blue plate special type stuff, dessert was included. Fortunate was the day when Bessie had fresh peaches, because peach cobbler was on the menu. That big black woman could make the best damn peach cobbler you ever wrapped your lips around. Had enough spice in it, that every now and then some of the cinnamon or nutmeg would kick a peach out on the tablecloth just for spite.
Lots of business done in that old cafe. Lawyers discussing divorce cases. Business deals. Every day people with everyday, small town gossip. Kind of a gentle buzz of acquaintances and friends, fixing the world around a mouth full of food.
Yeah, I'd like a place like that...
My family and I would be immediate regulars.
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A country diner in Leonardtown, MD that's not as classy as Jolly's, but has a similar vibe.
My job as a kid was to go out to eat with grandma. My parents hated the holes in the wall she'd choose and made me go whether I wanted to or not.
I wanted to. They were great places and some of my favorite memories were of going there with her.
At these kinds of places, the placemats, syrup pitchers, creamer bowls, etc. haven't changed a bit thank God.
Please love yourself.
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A country diner in Leonardtown, MD that's not as classy as Jolly's, but has a similar vibe.
My job as a kid was to go out to eat with grandma. My parents hated the holes in the wall she'd choose and made me go whether I wanted to or not.
I wanted to. They were great places and some of my favorite memories were of going there with her.
At these kinds of places, the placemats, syrup pitchers, creamer bowls, etc. haven't changed a bit thank God.
@Aqua-Letifer said in Your Restaurant:
A country diner in Leonardtown, MD that's not as classy as Jolly's, but has a similar vibe.
My job as a kid was to go out to eat with grandma. My parents hated the holes in the wall she'd choose and made me go whether I wanted to or not.
I wanted to. They were great places and some of my favorite memories were of going there with her.
At these kinds of places, the placemats, syrup pitchers, creamer bowls, etc. haven't changed a bit thank God.
Yeah, I'd be a regular...
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Y'all I used to eat here in the 1970's...That's when it was a club. To be in the club, you had to be white. What can I say, it's Mississippi. Small town Mississippi.
Things change. They'd even let Jon in there now, even if he is a damnyankee (for those of you who are ignorant "damnyankee" is one word and is pronounced as such. Even genteel, church-going little old ladies refer to our Northern citizens as damnyankees.
The Dinner Bell...
https://www.thedinnerbell.net/history/
Link to video
