Dear Feastlings,
Last night was a treat, I hope, for the people who joined us for Bastille Day; it was certainly a treat for us to be reminded that the place we come to each day that tiptoes through the Tucson summer can still behave like a proper restaurant when it needs to, busy and buzzy. The summer quiet needs to be interrupted now and again, and last night was a delightful occasion to do so. We even have a little Bouillabaisse left if you’re inclined this evening.
Meanwhile, with Bastille Day now behind us and an entire month until Ferragosto gives us reason to pack the restaurant again, we’re back to peace and quiet. I’m hiding in the back and working on the August menu already, and I thought about what I might chat about today, and it turned out to be the lone event we have scheduled this week. Still, I feel like telling a goofy little story about Feast, so this will be said story:
For years, we’ve played a game at Feast that we call Thermostat Hockey. Once the weather becomes unpleasant, half a dozen variables come into play to influence our thermostat, dozens of times a day. Five or six people might make an adjustment- we have a guest whose favorite activity is watching us all undo one another’s thermostat settings- and in the end, there’s comfort enough for most. Feast’s electric bill runs about $2800 and change each month, so there’s a nervous owner who’s acutely aware when the temperature dips too low. Then again, that same owner isn’t necessarily made of sterner stuff, and after tromping in and out of a hot kitchen with a chef coat and a baseball hat trapping the heat on his flimsy constitution, comfort defeats penury and the thermostat heads downward. Then a guest seated beneath a vent will request or demand an end to the chill, only to be trumped moments later by a perimenopausal staff member whose hot flash dictates another adjustment. It goes on all night, only to even out as we lock the door and things level off until the following morning, when it all begins again.
This morning, I foolishly started reading the news, only to discover that someone working on a much larger scale than Feast’s paltry 5900 square feet is playing a lusty and vigorous game of Tariff Hockey that makes our Thermostat Hockey look tenuous at best. Tariffs on EU wines are currently 10%- unpleasant, sure, but manageable. Today’s threat is 50%. While a combination of experience and a middling prescription keep me from being as reactive as I once might have been, it does mean that we’re back on the tightrope we’ve been on and off of for a while now, trying to decide what we can afford to bring in, what the quality to price ratio is on wines as they fluctuate and threaten to, and this week’s plan is to circle the wagons and have a tasting of wines that don’t cross any international borders. Our pal Megan, who’s long been a purveyor of wines from across the pond, also offers a host of choices from America the Beautiful as well, and this Saturday, you’re invited to taste them with us.
There’s more to come, for sure, but this week, we’ll just bask in the afterglow of a busy and successful Bastille Day, and we’ll thank you for your kind patronage. See you soon.
Love,
Doug