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7 Culinary Content Network Stories to Read Right Now 12-09-13 (Slideshow)

7 Culinary Content Network Stories to Read Right Now 12-09-13 (Slideshow)

Keeping you up to date in the world of great food and folk

The Hungry Goddess — Spicy Mustard Crabcakes Recipe with Lemon-Garlic Aioli

The Hungry Goddess, food for the ravenous soul, is a blog by Kimberly Moore, a "foodie, cook, food writer, and recipe creator," who is always hungry, and always sharing. In this post, Kimberly cooks crabcakes that are spicy and salty and spread with lemon-garlic aioli.

Bake or Break — Brown Butter-Hazelnut Cookies

Bake or Break is a Mississippi-born baker, who learned early the joys of baked goods. Now living in New York City with her husband, she continues baking and has added recipe development, blogging, and more to her repertoire. Here, Bake or Break bakes "shortbread cookie[s] dressed up with brown butter" and packed with flavor.

30A Eats — Korean Short Ribs: The Butcher’s Guide

30A Eats (Take a Bite of the Good Life) loves food, "it’s just that simple." In her blog, Susan Benton goes beyond food's surface, and aims to highlight the people behind its existence, and to show where good food comes from and where you can get it. In this post, she tries a recipe for Korean-style short ribs from the cookbook The Butcher’s Guide: An Insider’s View to Buy the Best Meat and Save Money, which she describes as the "perfect how-to guide" on meat, from the selection, storage, and preparation to the cooking processes. She calls these short ribs "stunners."

The Adventures of MJ and the Hungryman — Cranberry Pistachio Biscotti Dipped in Peppermint Chocolate

The Adventures of MJ and the Hungryman are a husband and wife superhero-inspired team who combine their "powers" of cooking and bottomless eating in the kitchen. Here, the team is inspired by the classic holiday flavors to make biscotti that can be paired with a cup of hot chocolate or coffee.

What Jew Wanna Eat — Beet Rugelach

What Jew Wanna Eat is "your source for home-cooked (sometimes) kosher goodness." Here, What Jew Wanna Eat incorporates beets into an unexpected recipe for beet rugelach.

Miss in the Kitchen — Peanut Butter, Chocolate, and Bacon Stuffed Monkey Bread

Miss in the Kitchen, a wife and mother of three, started her own barbecue sauce business and knows how to cook for the cowboys of the West. Her life in Wyoming is picturesque, but her desire to reach people keeps her writing, cooking, and sharing with the world. In this post, Miss in the Kitchen makes the "ultimate breakfast treat perfect for Christmas morning," stuffed with bacon, chocolate, and peanut butter chips that make it "crazy good."

Plated | The Dish — Triple Ginger Gingersnaps

Plated | The Dish features a variety of chef-designed meals each week, offering ingredients that are ready-to-order and delivered to your door with recipe instructions. In this post, Plated | The Dish bakes gingersnaps with triple the ginger: fresh ginger, dried ginger, and candied ginger.


The View from an Empty Restaurant

Since the pandemic took over in mid-March, each morning, with my large brown dogs in tow, I walk to the Grey as I have been doing since 2012, the year we began the restoration project of the old Greyhound bus terminal in Savannah, Georgia, that houses our restaurant. I go there because, frankly, I don’t know what else to do or where else to go. I set up my laptop on the bar that hasn’t seen a drink placed on it in more than six weeks, other than the plastic cups of wine I overpour for myself each evening as I am finishing my day. There I sit, and I do the things that out-of-work restaurateurs do.

I fill out applications for loans. I do media interviews. I join coalitions to save restaurants. I blow the live oak leaves that have dropped onto the sidewalk out front into the road, Martin Luther King Junior Boulevard, so it looks like someone still cares, because I do care very much. The Grey, beyond my wife, my family, and my dogs, is my everything. I think about my business partner, Mashama Bailey, the Grey’s executive chef. I think about our team. What will they do if we fail because of this crisis? What will I do? I think about our stoves and refrigerators that never get used anymore, and I wonder if the equipment is feeling sorry for itself because its raison d’etre is gone. I pulled the plug on our big neon sign announcing “The Grey,” so I am never tricked into thinking we are open.

Last week, after Georgia’s governor, Brian Kemp, announced that restaurants would be allowed to reopen on April 27, we announced that the Grey and the Grey Market, our second Savannah restaurant, would remain closed.

For us this was not a difficult decision. Before we even had to consider ethics or safety, the economics of it were obvious to us. To open a restaurant, you have to have guests. Otherwise, it’s financial suicide. Mashama and I just don’t think they are going to come right now. The economics are different for some places that have received loans under the Paycheck Protection Program (PPP) because part of the value proposition of that program is that you have to pay your staff for that money to become forgivable.

We, too, applied for PPP funds as soon as our bank would allow and have been approved, though we have yet to receive any money. But in a way it matters not, as the PPP missed the point when it comes to restaurants and how we operate. What exactly are we staffing up to do? It’s back to that guest thing. Without guests, there is no point in bringing staff back on board to serve no one. And it is not just the next eight weeks that are important to our survival, as the PPP dictates how its funds are to be used, but the next eight months (or more) as we attempt to recover from all of this.

Similarly, the governor’s directive also doesn’t seem to take into account how restaurants operate. Though we’re allowed to reopen, he imposed restrictions that make it economically impossible for us to do so and extended the state of emergency in Georgia through sometime in June. Meanwhile, federal guidelines, if followed, would say that we cannot open, and the mayor of our city has advised us to remain closed. We agree with him.


The View from an Empty Restaurant

Since the pandemic took over in mid-March, each morning, with my large brown dogs in tow, I walk to the Grey as I have been doing since 2012, the year we began the restoration project of the old Greyhound bus terminal in Savannah, Georgia, that houses our restaurant. I go there because, frankly, I don’t know what else to do or where else to go. I set up my laptop on the bar that hasn’t seen a drink placed on it in more than six weeks, other than the plastic cups of wine I overpour for myself each evening as I am finishing my day. There I sit, and I do the things that out-of-work restaurateurs do.

I fill out applications for loans. I do media interviews. I join coalitions to save restaurants. I blow the live oak leaves that have dropped onto the sidewalk out front into the road, Martin Luther King Junior Boulevard, so it looks like someone still cares, because I do care very much. The Grey, beyond my wife, my family, and my dogs, is my everything. I think about my business partner, Mashama Bailey, the Grey’s executive chef. I think about our team. What will they do if we fail because of this crisis? What will I do? I think about our stoves and refrigerators that never get used anymore, and I wonder if the equipment is feeling sorry for itself because its raison d’etre is gone. I pulled the plug on our big neon sign announcing “The Grey,” so I am never tricked into thinking we are open.

Last week, after Georgia’s governor, Brian Kemp, announced that restaurants would be allowed to reopen on April 27, we announced that the Grey and the Grey Market, our second Savannah restaurant, would remain closed.

For us this was not a difficult decision. Before we even had to consider ethics or safety, the economics of it were obvious to us. To open a restaurant, you have to have guests. Otherwise, it’s financial suicide. Mashama and I just don’t think they are going to come right now. The economics are different for some places that have received loans under the Paycheck Protection Program (PPP) because part of the value proposition of that program is that you have to pay your staff for that money to become forgivable.

We, too, applied for PPP funds as soon as our bank would allow and have been approved, though we have yet to receive any money. But in a way it matters not, as the PPP missed the point when it comes to restaurants and how we operate. What exactly are we staffing up to do? It’s back to that guest thing. Without guests, there is no point in bringing staff back on board to serve no one. And it is not just the next eight weeks that are important to our survival, as the PPP dictates how its funds are to be used, but the next eight months (or more) as we attempt to recover from all of this.

Similarly, the governor’s directive also doesn’t seem to take into account how restaurants operate. Though we’re allowed to reopen, he imposed restrictions that make it economically impossible for us to do so and extended the state of emergency in Georgia through sometime in June. Meanwhile, federal guidelines, if followed, would say that we cannot open, and the mayor of our city has advised us to remain closed. We agree with him.


The View from an Empty Restaurant

Since the pandemic took over in mid-March, each morning, with my large brown dogs in tow, I walk to the Grey as I have been doing since 2012, the year we began the restoration project of the old Greyhound bus terminal in Savannah, Georgia, that houses our restaurant. I go there because, frankly, I don’t know what else to do or where else to go. I set up my laptop on the bar that hasn’t seen a drink placed on it in more than six weeks, other than the plastic cups of wine I overpour for myself each evening as I am finishing my day. There I sit, and I do the things that out-of-work restaurateurs do.

I fill out applications for loans. I do media interviews. I join coalitions to save restaurants. I blow the live oak leaves that have dropped onto the sidewalk out front into the road, Martin Luther King Junior Boulevard, so it looks like someone still cares, because I do care very much. The Grey, beyond my wife, my family, and my dogs, is my everything. I think about my business partner, Mashama Bailey, the Grey’s executive chef. I think about our team. What will they do if we fail because of this crisis? What will I do? I think about our stoves and refrigerators that never get used anymore, and I wonder if the equipment is feeling sorry for itself because its raison d’etre is gone. I pulled the plug on our big neon sign announcing “The Grey,” so I am never tricked into thinking we are open.

Last week, after Georgia’s governor, Brian Kemp, announced that restaurants would be allowed to reopen on April 27, we announced that the Grey and the Grey Market, our second Savannah restaurant, would remain closed.

For us this was not a difficult decision. Before we even had to consider ethics or safety, the economics of it were obvious to us. To open a restaurant, you have to have guests. Otherwise, it’s financial suicide. Mashama and I just don’t think they are going to come right now. The economics are different for some places that have received loans under the Paycheck Protection Program (PPP) because part of the value proposition of that program is that you have to pay your staff for that money to become forgivable.

We, too, applied for PPP funds as soon as our bank would allow and have been approved, though we have yet to receive any money. But in a way it matters not, as the PPP missed the point when it comes to restaurants and how we operate. What exactly are we staffing up to do? It’s back to that guest thing. Without guests, there is no point in bringing staff back on board to serve no one. And it is not just the next eight weeks that are important to our survival, as the PPP dictates how its funds are to be used, but the next eight months (or more) as we attempt to recover from all of this.

Similarly, the governor’s directive also doesn’t seem to take into account how restaurants operate. Though we’re allowed to reopen, he imposed restrictions that make it economically impossible for us to do so and extended the state of emergency in Georgia through sometime in June. Meanwhile, federal guidelines, if followed, would say that we cannot open, and the mayor of our city has advised us to remain closed. We agree with him.


The View from an Empty Restaurant

Since the pandemic took over in mid-March, each morning, with my large brown dogs in tow, I walk to the Grey as I have been doing since 2012, the year we began the restoration project of the old Greyhound bus terminal in Savannah, Georgia, that houses our restaurant. I go there because, frankly, I don’t know what else to do or where else to go. I set up my laptop on the bar that hasn’t seen a drink placed on it in more than six weeks, other than the plastic cups of wine I overpour for myself each evening as I am finishing my day. There I sit, and I do the things that out-of-work restaurateurs do.

I fill out applications for loans. I do media interviews. I join coalitions to save restaurants. I blow the live oak leaves that have dropped onto the sidewalk out front into the road, Martin Luther King Junior Boulevard, so it looks like someone still cares, because I do care very much. The Grey, beyond my wife, my family, and my dogs, is my everything. I think about my business partner, Mashama Bailey, the Grey’s executive chef. I think about our team. What will they do if we fail because of this crisis? What will I do? I think about our stoves and refrigerators that never get used anymore, and I wonder if the equipment is feeling sorry for itself because its raison d’etre is gone. I pulled the plug on our big neon sign announcing “The Grey,” so I am never tricked into thinking we are open.

Last week, after Georgia’s governor, Brian Kemp, announced that restaurants would be allowed to reopen on April 27, we announced that the Grey and the Grey Market, our second Savannah restaurant, would remain closed.

For us this was not a difficult decision. Before we even had to consider ethics or safety, the economics of it were obvious to us. To open a restaurant, you have to have guests. Otherwise, it’s financial suicide. Mashama and I just don’t think they are going to come right now. The economics are different for some places that have received loans under the Paycheck Protection Program (PPP) because part of the value proposition of that program is that you have to pay your staff for that money to become forgivable.

We, too, applied for PPP funds as soon as our bank would allow and have been approved, though we have yet to receive any money. But in a way it matters not, as the PPP missed the point when it comes to restaurants and how we operate. What exactly are we staffing up to do? It’s back to that guest thing. Without guests, there is no point in bringing staff back on board to serve no one. And it is not just the next eight weeks that are important to our survival, as the PPP dictates how its funds are to be used, but the next eight months (or more) as we attempt to recover from all of this.

Similarly, the governor’s directive also doesn’t seem to take into account how restaurants operate. Though we’re allowed to reopen, he imposed restrictions that make it economically impossible for us to do so and extended the state of emergency in Georgia through sometime in June. Meanwhile, federal guidelines, if followed, would say that we cannot open, and the mayor of our city has advised us to remain closed. We agree with him.


The View from an Empty Restaurant

Since the pandemic took over in mid-March, each morning, with my large brown dogs in tow, I walk to the Grey as I have been doing since 2012, the year we began the restoration project of the old Greyhound bus terminal in Savannah, Georgia, that houses our restaurant. I go there because, frankly, I don’t know what else to do or where else to go. I set up my laptop on the bar that hasn’t seen a drink placed on it in more than six weeks, other than the plastic cups of wine I overpour for myself each evening as I am finishing my day. There I sit, and I do the things that out-of-work restaurateurs do.

I fill out applications for loans. I do media interviews. I join coalitions to save restaurants. I blow the live oak leaves that have dropped onto the sidewalk out front into the road, Martin Luther King Junior Boulevard, so it looks like someone still cares, because I do care very much. The Grey, beyond my wife, my family, and my dogs, is my everything. I think about my business partner, Mashama Bailey, the Grey’s executive chef. I think about our team. What will they do if we fail because of this crisis? What will I do? I think about our stoves and refrigerators that never get used anymore, and I wonder if the equipment is feeling sorry for itself because its raison d’etre is gone. I pulled the plug on our big neon sign announcing “The Grey,” so I am never tricked into thinking we are open.

Last week, after Georgia’s governor, Brian Kemp, announced that restaurants would be allowed to reopen on April 27, we announced that the Grey and the Grey Market, our second Savannah restaurant, would remain closed.

For us this was not a difficult decision. Before we even had to consider ethics or safety, the economics of it were obvious to us. To open a restaurant, you have to have guests. Otherwise, it’s financial suicide. Mashama and I just don’t think they are going to come right now. The economics are different for some places that have received loans under the Paycheck Protection Program (PPP) because part of the value proposition of that program is that you have to pay your staff for that money to become forgivable.

We, too, applied for PPP funds as soon as our bank would allow and have been approved, though we have yet to receive any money. But in a way it matters not, as the PPP missed the point when it comes to restaurants and how we operate. What exactly are we staffing up to do? It’s back to that guest thing. Without guests, there is no point in bringing staff back on board to serve no one. And it is not just the next eight weeks that are important to our survival, as the PPP dictates how its funds are to be used, but the next eight months (or more) as we attempt to recover from all of this.

Similarly, the governor’s directive also doesn’t seem to take into account how restaurants operate. Though we’re allowed to reopen, he imposed restrictions that make it economically impossible for us to do so and extended the state of emergency in Georgia through sometime in June. Meanwhile, federal guidelines, if followed, would say that we cannot open, and the mayor of our city has advised us to remain closed. We agree with him.


The View from an Empty Restaurant

Since the pandemic took over in mid-March, each morning, with my large brown dogs in tow, I walk to the Grey as I have been doing since 2012, the year we began the restoration project of the old Greyhound bus terminal in Savannah, Georgia, that houses our restaurant. I go there because, frankly, I don’t know what else to do or where else to go. I set up my laptop on the bar that hasn’t seen a drink placed on it in more than six weeks, other than the plastic cups of wine I overpour for myself each evening as I am finishing my day. There I sit, and I do the things that out-of-work restaurateurs do.

I fill out applications for loans. I do media interviews. I join coalitions to save restaurants. I blow the live oak leaves that have dropped onto the sidewalk out front into the road, Martin Luther King Junior Boulevard, so it looks like someone still cares, because I do care very much. The Grey, beyond my wife, my family, and my dogs, is my everything. I think about my business partner, Mashama Bailey, the Grey’s executive chef. I think about our team. What will they do if we fail because of this crisis? What will I do? I think about our stoves and refrigerators that never get used anymore, and I wonder if the equipment is feeling sorry for itself because its raison d’etre is gone. I pulled the plug on our big neon sign announcing “The Grey,” so I am never tricked into thinking we are open.

Last week, after Georgia’s governor, Brian Kemp, announced that restaurants would be allowed to reopen on April 27, we announced that the Grey and the Grey Market, our second Savannah restaurant, would remain closed.

For us this was not a difficult decision. Before we even had to consider ethics or safety, the economics of it were obvious to us. To open a restaurant, you have to have guests. Otherwise, it’s financial suicide. Mashama and I just don’t think they are going to come right now. The economics are different for some places that have received loans under the Paycheck Protection Program (PPP) because part of the value proposition of that program is that you have to pay your staff for that money to become forgivable.

We, too, applied for PPP funds as soon as our bank would allow and have been approved, though we have yet to receive any money. But in a way it matters not, as the PPP missed the point when it comes to restaurants and how we operate. What exactly are we staffing up to do? It’s back to that guest thing. Without guests, there is no point in bringing staff back on board to serve no one. And it is not just the next eight weeks that are important to our survival, as the PPP dictates how its funds are to be used, but the next eight months (or more) as we attempt to recover from all of this.

Similarly, the governor’s directive also doesn’t seem to take into account how restaurants operate. Though we’re allowed to reopen, he imposed restrictions that make it economically impossible for us to do so and extended the state of emergency in Georgia through sometime in June. Meanwhile, federal guidelines, if followed, would say that we cannot open, and the mayor of our city has advised us to remain closed. We agree with him.


The View from an Empty Restaurant

Since the pandemic took over in mid-March, each morning, with my large brown dogs in tow, I walk to the Grey as I have been doing since 2012, the year we began the restoration project of the old Greyhound bus terminal in Savannah, Georgia, that houses our restaurant. I go there because, frankly, I don’t know what else to do or where else to go. I set up my laptop on the bar that hasn’t seen a drink placed on it in more than six weeks, other than the plastic cups of wine I overpour for myself each evening as I am finishing my day. There I sit, and I do the things that out-of-work restaurateurs do.

I fill out applications for loans. I do media interviews. I join coalitions to save restaurants. I blow the live oak leaves that have dropped onto the sidewalk out front into the road, Martin Luther King Junior Boulevard, so it looks like someone still cares, because I do care very much. The Grey, beyond my wife, my family, and my dogs, is my everything. I think about my business partner, Mashama Bailey, the Grey’s executive chef. I think about our team. What will they do if we fail because of this crisis? What will I do? I think about our stoves and refrigerators that never get used anymore, and I wonder if the equipment is feeling sorry for itself because its raison d’etre is gone. I pulled the plug on our big neon sign announcing “The Grey,” so I am never tricked into thinking we are open.

Last week, after Georgia’s governor, Brian Kemp, announced that restaurants would be allowed to reopen on April 27, we announced that the Grey and the Grey Market, our second Savannah restaurant, would remain closed.

For us this was not a difficult decision. Before we even had to consider ethics or safety, the economics of it were obvious to us. To open a restaurant, you have to have guests. Otherwise, it’s financial suicide. Mashama and I just don’t think they are going to come right now. The economics are different for some places that have received loans under the Paycheck Protection Program (PPP) because part of the value proposition of that program is that you have to pay your staff for that money to become forgivable.

We, too, applied for PPP funds as soon as our bank would allow and have been approved, though we have yet to receive any money. But in a way it matters not, as the PPP missed the point when it comes to restaurants and how we operate. What exactly are we staffing up to do? It’s back to that guest thing. Without guests, there is no point in bringing staff back on board to serve no one. And it is not just the next eight weeks that are important to our survival, as the PPP dictates how its funds are to be used, but the next eight months (or more) as we attempt to recover from all of this.

Similarly, the governor’s directive also doesn’t seem to take into account how restaurants operate. Though we’re allowed to reopen, he imposed restrictions that make it economically impossible for us to do so and extended the state of emergency in Georgia through sometime in June. Meanwhile, federal guidelines, if followed, would say that we cannot open, and the mayor of our city has advised us to remain closed. We agree with him.


The View from an Empty Restaurant

Since the pandemic took over in mid-March, each morning, with my large brown dogs in tow, I walk to the Grey as I have been doing since 2012, the year we began the restoration project of the old Greyhound bus terminal in Savannah, Georgia, that houses our restaurant. I go there because, frankly, I don’t know what else to do or where else to go. I set up my laptop on the bar that hasn’t seen a drink placed on it in more than six weeks, other than the plastic cups of wine I overpour for myself each evening as I am finishing my day. There I sit, and I do the things that out-of-work restaurateurs do.

I fill out applications for loans. I do media interviews. I join coalitions to save restaurants. I blow the live oak leaves that have dropped onto the sidewalk out front into the road, Martin Luther King Junior Boulevard, so it looks like someone still cares, because I do care very much. The Grey, beyond my wife, my family, and my dogs, is my everything. I think about my business partner, Mashama Bailey, the Grey’s executive chef. I think about our team. What will they do if we fail because of this crisis? What will I do? I think about our stoves and refrigerators that never get used anymore, and I wonder if the equipment is feeling sorry for itself because its raison d’etre is gone. I pulled the plug on our big neon sign announcing “The Grey,” so I am never tricked into thinking we are open.

Last week, after Georgia’s governor, Brian Kemp, announced that restaurants would be allowed to reopen on April 27, we announced that the Grey and the Grey Market, our second Savannah restaurant, would remain closed.

For us this was not a difficult decision. Before we even had to consider ethics or safety, the economics of it were obvious to us. To open a restaurant, you have to have guests. Otherwise, it’s financial suicide. Mashama and I just don’t think they are going to come right now. The economics are different for some places that have received loans under the Paycheck Protection Program (PPP) because part of the value proposition of that program is that you have to pay your staff for that money to become forgivable.

We, too, applied for PPP funds as soon as our bank would allow and have been approved, though we have yet to receive any money. But in a way it matters not, as the PPP missed the point when it comes to restaurants and how we operate. What exactly are we staffing up to do? It’s back to that guest thing. Without guests, there is no point in bringing staff back on board to serve no one. And it is not just the next eight weeks that are important to our survival, as the PPP dictates how its funds are to be used, but the next eight months (or more) as we attempt to recover from all of this.

Similarly, the governor’s directive also doesn’t seem to take into account how restaurants operate. Though we’re allowed to reopen, he imposed restrictions that make it economically impossible for us to do so and extended the state of emergency in Georgia through sometime in June. Meanwhile, federal guidelines, if followed, would say that we cannot open, and the mayor of our city has advised us to remain closed. We agree with him.


The View from an Empty Restaurant

Since the pandemic took over in mid-March, each morning, with my large brown dogs in tow, I walk to the Grey as I have been doing since 2012, the year we began the restoration project of the old Greyhound bus terminal in Savannah, Georgia, that houses our restaurant. I go there because, frankly, I don’t know what else to do or where else to go. I set up my laptop on the bar that hasn’t seen a drink placed on it in more than six weeks, other than the plastic cups of wine I overpour for myself each evening as I am finishing my day. There I sit, and I do the things that out-of-work restaurateurs do.

I fill out applications for loans. I do media interviews. I join coalitions to save restaurants. I blow the live oak leaves that have dropped onto the sidewalk out front into the road, Martin Luther King Junior Boulevard, so it looks like someone still cares, because I do care very much. The Grey, beyond my wife, my family, and my dogs, is my everything. I think about my business partner, Mashama Bailey, the Grey’s executive chef. I think about our team. What will they do if we fail because of this crisis? What will I do? I think about our stoves and refrigerators that never get used anymore, and I wonder if the equipment is feeling sorry for itself because its raison d’etre is gone. I pulled the plug on our big neon sign announcing “The Grey,” so I am never tricked into thinking we are open.

Last week, after Georgia’s governor, Brian Kemp, announced that restaurants would be allowed to reopen on April 27, we announced that the Grey and the Grey Market, our second Savannah restaurant, would remain closed.

For us this was not a difficult decision. Before we even had to consider ethics or safety, the economics of it were obvious to us. To open a restaurant, you have to have guests. Otherwise, it’s financial suicide. Mashama and I just don’t think they are going to come right now. The economics are different for some places that have received loans under the Paycheck Protection Program (PPP) because part of the value proposition of that program is that you have to pay your staff for that money to become forgivable.

We, too, applied for PPP funds as soon as our bank would allow and have been approved, though we have yet to receive any money. But in a way it matters not, as the PPP missed the point when it comes to restaurants and how we operate. What exactly are we staffing up to do? It’s back to that guest thing. Without guests, there is no point in bringing staff back on board to serve no one. And it is not just the next eight weeks that are important to our survival, as the PPP dictates how its funds are to be used, but the next eight months (or more) as we attempt to recover from all of this.

Similarly, the governor’s directive also doesn’t seem to take into account how restaurants operate. Though we’re allowed to reopen, he imposed restrictions that make it economically impossible for us to do so and extended the state of emergency in Georgia through sometime in June. Meanwhile, federal guidelines, if followed, would say that we cannot open, and the mayor of our city has advised us to remain closed. We agree with him.


The View from an Empty Restaurant

Since the pandemic took over in mid-March, each morning, with my large brown dogs in tow, I walk to the Grey as I have been doing since 2012, the year we began the restoration project of the old Greyhound bus terminal in Savannah, Georgia, that houses our restaurant. I go there because, frankly, I don’t know what else to do or where else to go. I set up my laptop on the bar that hasn’t seen a drink placed on it in more than six weeks, other than the plastic cups of wine I overpour for myself each evening as I am finishing my day. There I sit, and I do the things that out-of-work restaurateurs do.

I fill out applications for loans. I do media interviews. I join coalitions to save restaurants. I blow the live oak leaves that have dropped onto the sidewalk out front into the road, Martin Luther King Junior Boulevard, so it looks like someone still cares, because I do care very much. The Grey, beyond my wife, my family, and my dogs, is my everything. I think about my business partner, Mashama Bailey, the Grey’s executive chef. I think about our team. What will they do if we fail because of this crisis? What will I do? I think about our stoves and refrigerators that never get used anymore, and I wonder if the equipment is feeling sorry for itself because its raison d’etre is gone. I pulled the plug on our big neon sign announcing “The Grey,” so I am never tricked into thinking we are open.

Last week, after Georgia’s governor, Brian Kemp, announced that restaurants would be allowed to reopen on April 27, we announced that the Grey and the Grey Market, our second Savannah restaurant, would remain closed.

For us this was not a difficult decision. Before we even had to consider ethics or safety, the economics of it were obvious to us. To open a restaurant, you have to have guests. Otherwise, it’s financial suicide. Mashama and I just don’t think they are going to come right now. The economics are different for some places that have received loans under the Paycheck Protection Program (PPP) because part of the value proposition of that program is that you have to pay your staff for that money to become forgivable.

We, too, applied for PPP funds as soon as our bank would allow and have been approved, though we have yet to receive any money. But in a way it matters not, as the PPP missed the point when it comes to restaurants and how we operate. What exactly are we staffing up to do? It’s back to that guest thing. Without guests, there is no point in bringing staff back on board to serve no one. And it is not just the next eight weeks that are important to our survival, as the PPP dictates how its funds are to be used, but the next eight months (or more) as we attempt to recover from all of this.

Similarly, the governor’s directive also doesn’t seem to take into account how restaurants operate. Though we’re allowed to reopen, he imposed restrictions that make it economically impossible for us to do so and extended the state of emergency in Georgia through sometime in June. Meanwhile, federal guidelines, if followed, would say that we cannot open, and the mayor of our city has advised us to remain closed. We agree with him.


Watch the video: The Swedish Farm Changing Food (January 2022).