We humans are resilient creatures. Sure, we’re scared, and we’re depressed, and we’re at our limits with whatever loved ones we’re sheltered in with, but if you had told me even on March 16 that we’d be running Feast full-tilt on carryout right now, staying afloat by taking donations to feed front-line hospital workers and delivering everywhere from Marana to Green Valley, I wouldn’t have been able to picture it. Now it’s just what I do every day, apart from drop another email in your inbox. So as I was sitting here trying to figure out what we needed to mention today, and I was thinking , “oh, there’s really nothing special going on,” I realized that, in spite of it now somehow feeling normal, what we’re doing- and by “we” I mean pretty much everyone on a land mass right now- is remarkable. So I’m writing in part to thank people yet again, after receiving yet another fistful of donations even from people having no idea who they’re donating to, and to congratulate you all on adapting to whatever new paradigm is unceremoniously dropped into our collective lap each day. (The next donation run, incidentally, is being figured out with my new friend Tammy at St. Joe’s.)
Did I think two months ago that I’d be making a decision about the safety of my community and balancing it against the potential future of my business and the people I’ve come to regard as my family? Nope. Did you think you’d ever be on unemployment? I doubt it. Did you think that your birthdays, weddings, memorials, and graduations would be celebrated with a cupcake and a phone call? I didn’t think so. But we’re doing what we have to do, at least what we each perceive as necessary, and it’s rough on all of us, whether it means we can’t hug our grandchildren, or we’ve given up our coffee clutch, or we’re scrambling to see if there’s flour to be had at the grocery store this time. So good job, all of us, and thank you for not only adapting to whatever new circumstance pushes its way into our lives, but for thinking not only of ourselves, but of each other. Let’s all do our best to feel lucky today to have each other to look out for us. And if you need a cup of flour, I’ve got you covered. At least the first forty or fifty of you. We still have empanada dough to make.
Just a couple of quick notes for today and tomorrow:
First, you’ve still got a couple of hours to grab the wines that Kent and Todd will be talking about on #digitalwineresearch this evening, and you’ve got about 23 hours to pick up samples for our tasting of New World Chardonnays tomorrow. Here are the links for their tasting and ours.
You also have about five hours to get your order in if you want to avail yourself of tomorrow’s delivery run to the east, northeast and one spot in the west. Here’s that info.
And the menu, complete with the specials we’ll have available for that delivery run tomorrow, is here.
With all this technological savvy, you’d think we’d be able to take your order online as well, but what can I say? We love that personal touch and the screwups that come with it. So thanks for your patience. You can reach us at 326-9363 and we’d love to get you some food, some drink or some combination thereof.
Your friends at Feast