I was back on the roof yesterday, both the roof of Old Feast and the roof of New Feast, and heck if it doesn’t overwhelm me right now. Last night was our bumpiest night yet, and I’m scared and dejected. I know you can’t please all of the people all of the time, and our guests are the greatest restaurant guests of all time, as a general rule. But last night, in the moments I could make it out into the dining room, past Duncan, who was forced into taking the role of foodrunner quite literally, I could see the forced smiles and tight-lipped nods on normally happy faces, and it took what wind was left out of my sails. And I think looking at the roof of each restaurant, you can see the magnitude of this thing we’ve done as compared to the simplicity of yesteryear. Never mind the fact the the guy who sold me the exhaust hood saw me coming- that’s a whole different story, where I ended up with every bell and whistle known to the exhaust hood industry and an exhaust hood underneath them- I’m just talking about the fact that there’s a small cityscape of equipment on our roof now, and there used to be just a humble fan that I would climb up and fix myself when it sputtered and coughed. Now I’m simply incapable of fixing it myself, and that’s sort of how last night went. There was a small cityscape of problems, and I simply couldn’t fix it myself. I know we’ll get there, and I could not ask for a more remarkable group of people to work with, but it pains me that our guests last night didn’t get to see me or them at our best. Maybe I could go back to Tara. After all, tomorrow is another day.