Melissa i
Strong

Working for others, I dreamed that one day, I would make my own restaurant.  I was disappointed when I heard Dale--my old boss at the Dunraven, sold the restaurant to Andy. I did not get a chance, but I was happy to welcome Andy and learn a new management style.  After a few years, Andy and I briefly talked about me coming on as a partner, but it did not work out with numbers at the time. Understanding the Dunraven, where I had worked for sixteen to seventeen years, would not be an avenue to ownership. I had to ask myself the question -- how serious am I with this dream? I love restaurants, from going out to eat to working in them. Creating an experience that customers feel is rewarding--recreating the magic I felt as a young girl for others.

 

For years, I find myself sitting in restaurants with Adam and friends, staring at every detail, thinking I like this, I don't like that, I would definitely do this in my restaurant -- I cannot stop myself from building my imaginary restaurant. "Andy, I am going to do it," I said one night at work. "I am going to start looking at places in town to open a restaurant." I wanted him to know and ask if he wanted to partner in a new restaurant and concept. In January (before I wrecked my knee), we actually went to look at a restaurant that was going to come up to rent--the Other Side. Even before the meeting, I created a floor plan and a concept. No-go--the rent was too high, and the place is so outdated that even with the upgrades the new owners were planning on, it still did not fit what I was constructing in my vision.  

 

After the Other Side meeting, Andy said he had enough on his plate at the Dunraven. I completely understood. I hooked up with a commercial realtor and looked at a few places, but they were not the right fit. Then my banker called one day and told me Sean Keating just bought the Alpine Trail Ridge and the Sundeck Restaurant and was thinking about subdividing the properties and selling the restaurant. Across the street from the Otherside, The Sundeck faced the Rocky Mountains with a deck and a great view! Even before I got in and realized how much work there is to remodel this non-winterized building, I knew it was the place for my restaurant!

 

We got the green light on subdividing after working with Sean and the town. Sean and I have agreed on a price, and lawyers are working on an agreement for me to start renovations before the sale so we can try to get open for Summer 2017!!! In the past few months, I met with a contractor and architect and have ideas and plans started—and new floor plans!! We have to start with asbestos mitigation, pretty much tear everything down to studs, and rebuild since the Sundeck never ran in the winter. It is not winterized! It is more than I was hoping, but the spot is worth it. I have a 32-page business proposal (I tweak regularly) with menus and a seasonal concept serving lunch and dinner, trying to do something for everyone in Estes - from the construction worker coming into the bar for a beer and burger after a day of labor to upscale dining in the dining room for the full dinner experience.  

 

I reached out to some restaurant friends, who I said (usually when tipsy), "One day, I am going to do my own thing and will call you when that time comes." John and Jimmy are in, but the investment to fund is falling on me. I am hitting the streets looking for investors or banks that will believe in my dream. John connected me with chef Ethan Brown, and after some persuasion, he is joining the team! My parents are helping me purchase the building so we can get started.

 

In the meantime, I am off to Hueco to see if I can get some climbing in. My rehabbing knee is feeling sturdier--I am reluctant to take falls, but Hueco is the perfect spot--climbing steep overhanging rocks can keep the landing shorter-- this might be my last full season in Hueco with the restaurant opening, but that is one big reason to have partners--maybe one day I can still have both--time climbing away and a restaurant. First, let's get this built. Oh, and we just decided on a name Bird & Jim--for Isabella Bird and Mountain Jim--some of Estes Park's historic characters from the 1800s, and our climbing friend/artist Burg is making us a logo!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Restaurants were a magical world to me as a child. I was the kid all servers wanted at their table, the six-year-old ordering lobster and scallops. Walking into the red-carpeted restaurant felt like a scene out of a movie: happy people, smiling faces, graciously greeting us, "The Gargano's welcome back." The Maître d' ushered us to a large round table with a red plush booth circling the table, handing us gigantic leather menus and gliding away. In the '80s, my family would go to Fantasias in Cambridge, MA. My sister was permanently assigned the annoying task of monitoring me, "Alison, take your sister to the bathroom," my parents instructed. The bathroom walls lined with red velvet wallpaper were my favorite. I would narrate my bowel movements from the stall to my embarrassed teenage sister as I touted my approval of the velvet walls. Next was the excitement of the powder soap--it was like magic from dry powder to bubbles! "Come on, Missy," Alison would encourage as older women smiled and chatted, coming in and out as I prolonged each bathroom visit. "And then she said, hold on, I have to wipe the counter," my sister shared with the table when we returned. My Mother laughed, "I can't get her to do that at home," I heard as I ordered a frozen virgin grasshopper with chocolate cake for my dessert.

 

Unsurprisingly, I wound up in restaurants even after swearing off restaurant work at fifteen when the dreamy bubble burst as I went from pampered diner to bus girl. My first job was at Jake's in Hull, MA--the beach town where we spent summers, not too far outside Cambridge, for my Dad's commute to his law office. After one month of picking up tartar-smeared, greasy red plastic baskets and plates at the fried seafood restaurant, I swore I would never work in a restaurant again. Six years of my next summer job, working in my father's law firm, made me firmly aware that I would never work in an office, be a lawyer or work for my Dad. As full circle as life usually is, my second experience with restaurant work won me over. "This is a real job for me," I assured the quizzical customer, "and I like it. I figured out what I would be by identifying what I did not want to be."