There are days that I question why I made the choice to do this restaurant gig, and then there are days that remind me why I did.
It came via a simple cup of soup
I was breaking down a catering for a group of teachers on Monday, and one gentleman came in the teachers lounge to see if there was anything left. I said of course, and so he took a few minutes before his next meeting to eat a bowl of our Tuscan White Bean.
As I continued my cleaning up, he began to ask about our restaurant, and especially the soup he was eating.
“Do you make this soup?” he asked.
“All from scratch.” I replied.
‘Man, this is just like my little Italian mother used to make for me. We would eat this all the time.”
“Did she drop a parmesan rind in the stock pot for extra flavor?” I chimed.
“Exactly!” he quickly added.
“Man, this soup gives me chills just thinking about those days.”
I wanted to open a restaurant that had the power to evoke that kind of emotion. I didn’t want a place that you forgot what you ate as quickly as you ate it. I wanted a place that served food that would bring together people and remind them of the good in their past, and also inspire toward something better.
Our recipes and dishes are not difficult from a standpoint of skill. But they do take time to adequately prepare, which is one reason I believe our food stands out. No one takes this kind of time anymore, and the end result shows.
I’d like to think a visit to bread&cup is both a step back, and a step forward. We want you to remember what good food tasted like from your mother or grandmother’s table, but we also want to say that our future can be crafted with values such as these. We don’t have to put up with fast, lazy food any longer.