Its been five months since we’ve closed our doors and it still feels like grieving a death in the family. It was a loss of our daily livelihood, but it was also a loss of community, of friends that we made with employees and guests, of farmers and vendors whom we rarely see now. We pick up and carry on into a new season. And with all turning of seasons, it brings something brand new. Its not certain what that will be, but I have to believe that the best is yet to come.

Someone asked me if we would ever re-open bread&cup in a better location and I said I doubt that will ever happen. She asked me to explain. I told her that we didn’t see bread&cup as a restaurant concept, but more like a moment in time that won’t ever be replicated in the same way. We can still make the same bread, the same cinnamon rolls, same soup, same menu, but something would still be missing. The years between 2007 and 2017 were a unique blend of staff and all their quirks and passions for extending hospitality to a city that was growing its food culture and identity. We just happened to be in the right place at the right time to fashion an expression that was well-received. But within that window, public traffic patterns, their dining habits and entertainment interests all shifted. It became clear that the next wave of culinary entrepreneurs would be required to determine the market demand and furnish their supply.

The future is about new ideas and those who are willing to carry them. Money doesn’t create an idea or vision. Money only tags along when it spots a good thing.

We opened bread&cup because we had a compelling vision to build a hospitable place of conversation and reflection through the service of simple food an drink. Our guest experience was our first priority because the relationships around the table are lasting, while our food was temporary. The meal would be digested, but the conversation would carry on long after the visit.

We are in a place once again to ask what’s next. The terrifying part of that question is asking it in midlife. The thrilling part is being in a place to create again, something that is usually reserved for the young. But at my age, I am still an entrepreneur at heart. I’m a craftsman. I’m a builder. I’m a writer. I’m a watchman. And I plan to keep watch for what’s coming next.

I’ve developed a new blog site as I will close this one down soon. You can follow my thoughts via my new writing and audio posts at The title comes from a reference to cellar temperature. When you dig down far enough, the ambient temperature underground is a steady 55 degrees year round. Its the perfect environment to let red wine rest, to lager beer or to ferment cheese and charcuterie. Great things emerge out of 55 degrees.

Thanks for reading. I hope it provides some inspiration and validation of your thoughts, ideas and dreams.

A Moment in Time