8.5.25 | Pitchforks & Hammer Handles

Unlike Missy, I love the pouring rain. Grey skies, thunder and lightning, tousled trees. To put a finer point on it, I love the oncoming storm. I love watching them roll in.

As a kid we lived in a house with a covered front porch that looked over the neighbor’s cow fields. We could see for miles as the storms started heading in our direction. My sisters and I would sit on the porch and color pictures of the storm clouds and lightning.

Here recently we have had our summer afternoon storms and they have not been fun, enticing, and awe-inspiring. They've been a pain in the ass. The dishroom flooded last week, the patio is a mess of rubble and leaves, and instead of getting ready for service I am squeegeeing the dish room and sweeping the patio. The 200-year-old dining room with no insulation is filling up with a syrup-like humidity and we are rushing around with fans so that people can breathe.

People ask me all the time what I do on my day off: Do I cook? Do I go out? Am I handcuffed to the oven? All of the above really, but this weekend Becca and I were invited to a friend’s anniversary soirée, so we went, enjoyed some wine, fudge, tea sandwiches and conversation and then headed back to the comfort of our couch. Happy not to cook, but to be satiated and ready to return to our creature comforts, our dog, and the boob tube.

Well I did.

Becca and I drove separately; she had some macaron business at the restaurant to attend to, so it was bachelor night at home for me and the poodle. At least for an hour or so. Sure enough, the summer storm was coming. The clouds started to get fat and gray with rain. The sun was slowly fading and the tree leaves were turning upside down showing their pale bellies. No doubt about it, we were about to get a downpour.

I decided to pounce on the opportunity to enjoy the show. I poured two fingers of Glenmorangie, lit a cigar I had been saving, grabbed the dog and sat on the swing on the covered porch. Jellybean wasn't very excited about the thunder, but she was willing to sit with me as long as I kept one hand on her and scratched her jowls. We watched the skies darken, enjoyed our vices, and right before the belly was about to burst Becca pulled in. Jellybean ran up to her, tail wagging and told her to take her inside immediately and away from this crazy boy who was about to get drenched. The girls went inside and the dam immediately broke. A real gully-gusher, cats and dogs, pitchforks and hammer handles, it poured.

It was a great way to end an afternoon and a stark contrast to how the summer storms have been affecting my day-to-day. Enjoying a storm versus a storm that destroys our dining room was a breath of fresh air. It's a nice reminder to get out of the restaurant every now and again. I may be whistling a different tune if I walk in on Tuesday and the floors are buckled, the doors are stuck tight, and there's a lingering fog in the eves.

For today though, I had a respite from the storm of owning a restaurant and welcomed the storm on the porch.

—Matt