Where Our Knees Meet The Pavement

Our last post finished with feelings of promise and a push in the right direction. Our inbox flooded with supportive words and offers to help in any way possible. Our hearts soared from the continued devotion of our neighbors and the willingness to help with guiding voices. We warmly accepted the help they so kindly offered.

As we have all watched many times over, things can change in a single breath.

And they did.

We were informed that we had a huge electrical problem on our hands. There was no way to fire up the hood as we had been anticipating. There was no way to run all of our gear safely even though we had been told by our old contractor there would be no problem. It was uttered the architect should have dealt with this when we moved in almost 1 year ago.

Then we were shown the price tag to redo all that had not been done.

This punch dropped us to our knees.

Skin pierced by the gravel.

Breath stolen from our burning lungs.

Sweat blinding our vision and the metallic tang of defeat stinging our taste buds.

The sound of our fans cheering us on became muted and distorted from the ringing in our heads.

The tower of bills collapsing, causing the light to wane.

The vertigo set in covered in an itchy blanket of guilt.

We should have known better.

We should have pushed them harder.

We should have… we should have… we should have….

But we are not contractors. We are not electricians. We are not even restaurateurs.

We are a butcher.

A chef.

An artist.

A baker.


We paid a company to do right by us and the building. We paid a company for the knowledge we did not possess. We paid a company that is systematically tearing us apart. What’s worse, is learning this is common. Many small businesses have been prevented from opening and taken for every last dime by contractors who could give a shit. Small business owners already fight and starve for every little thing they procure. It’s already an uphill battle filled with landmines and flying evil monkeys with machetes waiting to take you out. To know these companies exist and thrive from stealing money is almost too sad to push through. It’s enough to knock down even the toughest fighters.

Days had passed and we continued to wander through the darkness licking our wounds. Searching for some place warm and true to fall. Feeling weak from the physical labor and emotional void, I opened my eyes enough to catch this;


“If you aren't in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?”


T.S Eliot threw these words into our face and in turn, it threw us right back into the ring.

So, we will stand up yet again and we will fight until our lights go out. Until there is nothing but blood and bills and a trail of tears behind us. Today, we feel taller than we ever have. Today, with our community behind us, we continue to stretch our limits.

This place.

This Baba’s is not just for us.

It’s for you. For your family. For our community and the people trying to close the circle of farm to fork establishments. The pig farmers. The grain growers. The brewers. The wine makers. The cheese heads. The fruit and vegetable harvesters.

Baba herself would have never given up. We find her spirit in everything we push through and we will honor her hard work and difficult life by creating a better community for our patrons and suppliers.

We are working on plan what-ever-number-this-is, for a last and final push. Details are still being worked out as you are reading this and we will need your help.

Please keep an eye out for future announcements and once again, thank you from the deepest parts of who we are.

Your voices are our fuel.

Caroline Kraus2 Comments