Oh, the agony!

If our customers only knew the distress and panic the kitchen manager (okay...me) goes through for their sake...

If you've been paying attention to our ads and postings on Facebook, you've probably noticed that not only are we open later in the evenings Monday through Saturday, but that we are also offering dinner specials.

You see, I've been cooking dinner for 47 years now. For 46 of those years, the recipients of my food were under an obligation to enjoy what I put in front of them. As an 8-year-old I probably conjured up some pretty bizarre dishes, but my family was either too hungry or too polite to turn anything down. As a wife and mother I did focus on improving my skills but, frankly, whether or not I succeeded, my husband and sons knew the wisdom of not biting the hand that fed them. There were no complaints and even occasional compliments, usually triggered by the need for cash or the car keys.

Now, though, I am asking people to go out of their way, come to this cafe, and put down their hard-earned money to eat something I cooked. And not just soups and sandwiches for lunch; this is dinner, the big kahuna of the meal trifecta.

It's a wonder I sleep at night.

Not to say, I wasn't worried when we first opened and people started ordering soups that I had made. Everyone has very specific ideas about how those old standbys -- chicken noodle, tomato, minestrone, etc. -- should taste and for awhile my anxiety level spiked until the customer checked out without complaining. (That's right -- it doesn't take much validation for me to be happy. Just knowing my food wasn't gaggingly horrible is enough.)

Dinner, though. Dinner. People look forward to dinner. A good dinner is bliss. A bad dinner can screw up an otherwise okay day. You think that kind of responsibility is easy?

So this has been a challenging week for me and everyone who knows me (you don't think I'm going to keep my suffering to myself, do you?). We're featuring quite a few new dishes this week and next, but also a few old favorites. You really should stop in and everyone else in the cafe will be happy and carefree.

I'll only look like I'm in agony until you leave...