Dear Feastlings,
Since these emails are feeling more and more like keeping a journal, something I’ve never done, or written therapy with the 4500 of you as my therapists, I’ll note today and wonder aloud how much the pendulum of feeling connected swings for you. I’m both lucky and not that I’m able to work throughout this time, albeit with a certain amount of risk, so at the very least, I see people- real humans- every day. Sometimes that’s a lifesaver, and sometimes it’s draining, but I’d imagine it’s the same to be sheltered in and being gradually driven crazy by the people you love most in this world. What’s odd for me is the dramatic shift between feeling so connected to all of you and then finding myself on my bicycle at a stoplight in a deserted downtown this morning and feeling tears well up. Again.
Sad as it gets, we’ve all been teary over here in the best possible way as well. Yesterday I asked Megan how often she’s been crying and she got a little misty describing to me how it feels to be chugging along in here, detached from whatever’s going on in the outside world, when we send out an email telling you about a hospital donation and the phone starts ringing within minutes, or you don your masks and gloves and come down to restock the wine cellar or get a bite of something, and suddenly, she swells with gratitude. “It’s like,” she said, “they’re all getting in this boat with us.” So here’s a little note to remind you that if you’re feeling empty and isolated, we’re here and we miss you just like you’ve been supporting us.
As I heard stories of brewhouses opening at midnight Sunday night and drove past a packed parking lot at a watering hole last night, I’m tempering that sinking feeling where I wonder how many new cases we’ll see in two weeks’ time with an acute understanding of how desperately we all need to feel like we’re members of a community again, with the palpable evidence of sneaking a glance at a flesh-and-blood person two tables away, whether it’s a glance of warm recognition or supercilious judgement. I’m aching to give both.
But for now, we’re keeping our eyes on the road. We still have no ETA on opening the dining room, but we’ve been cooking away nonetheless. Tomorrow, we’re bringing food to 287 people who help power the VA Hospital along, thanks in huge part to your donations, and I should note here, in case you like to support people who support people, specifically thanks in huge part to Kent Callaghan, who dropped in on last week’s wine tasting and donated nine cases of wine that we’ve already sold through, each bottle of which is translating to a meal for someone at the VA and our other upcoming hospital runs. And as luck would have it, his wines are delicious, so I’d encourage you to show Kent your support by picking up a bottle of Callaghan next time you’re grabbing dinner. We have seven of his wines on the list, and a few odd bottles that we’ve brought in as a backup for the #digitalwineresearch event that he does each week with Todd Bostock of Dos Cabezas. You can see that here.
and you can see Kent’s wines on our list here (keep in mind, this is the restaurant list, which includes a $12 corkage, so you can take that $12 off your mental price list.)
I’ll also point out here that we’ve got some specials figured out for our delivery run this Saturday to parts east and west (and northeast as well) and they can be found just before you get to dessert on our menu, which is here.
and information and pickup times at our various delivery hubs is here, along with an admonition that you have until Friday evening to call in your order
The number to call is 326-9363, and as long as I’m throwing links around and talking about feeling connected, here’s a link to something beautiful, if not downright inspirational, that made me feel good for days. And who among us couldn’t use a little of that?
See you soon, at least virtually.
Doug