One of the questions I’m asked all the time is “Which three businesses are YOUR favorites, Cinda?” Talk about a loaded question; since most of my haunts are independents, narrowing the list to three is impossible (not to mention it would get me clobbered by those who landed in positions four, five, six, etc.). Just too many to count.
The question that’s been haunting me the past week is this: Which three businesses have we already lost that I’d give my right arm to have back? That’s easy:
Boulevard Gardens
This family owned floral shop and greenhouse was a mere block and a half from my store during my retail days. Rhonda not only knew to never, ever, ever allow a single carnation near me (they remind me of Grandpa Baxter’s funeral, when I was 10), but always chatted with my Mom when she called long distance to order my annual Easter Lily, lovingly repotted my treasured violets without harming a petal, and personally delivered extraordinary arrangements when I returned home from some Very Serious Surgery several years ago. They were extended family to a lot of us in the neighborhood, and will forever be missed.
The Bread Basket
When a husband/wife team opened an extraordinary French bakery near my store, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. They cranked out the most legitimate baguette I’ve had outside of Provence—a French employee of mine swore they were exactly like what she eats at home, which is pretty high praise. Their oven came from Paris; the passion for baked goods came from their hearts. Supplying restaurants around the Twin Cities, their breads were oohed and ahhed over by many a diner who had no idea where these crusty miracles came from; those of us who knew adored them heart and soul.
Then there’s Table of Contents….
The running joke for years was that my mail was delivered to this restaurant, given how often I dined there. While not exactly accurate, I did pop in for at least one dinner per week, many times two, sometimes three. The owners and staff become an extended family, serving up food worthy of a white tablecloth restaurant in Manhattan, sans attitude. Three (four? five?) birthdays were celebrated at “Table,” including a raucous surprise 39th that ended up involving most of the restaurant’s diners, whether they were with us or not. The first visit was mere hours after my store had been robbed; a friend suggested someplace we’d be well attended to with killer food. By the end of the night, we were sharing bottles of wine with the three owners and executive chef back in the office, swapping stories about the challenges of being an independent business owner. To this day, no better food has been served or better martini shaken. I will forever miss my beloved TOC.
As far back as childhood, there have always been local brick and mortars that enriched my world. Memories of The Blossom Shop (with it’s two cute little schnauzers, root beer candy canes, and a lovely co-owner nicknamed “Peaches”), Jake’s Bake Shop (a-ma-zing glazed doughnuts and crispies, next door to our church), Hovland Swanson’s (elegant clothes, exquisite gifts, and lovely women—including one of my mother’s best friends, Mary), and Dreisbach’s (legendary steaks, ribs, hash browns with cheese, and blue cheese salad dressing) still make me smile.
It occurs to me regularly that the teens and 20-somethings of today might not enjoy those same types of memories, having grown up in an age of online ordering and big box bonanzas. My hope and prayer is that through movements like The 3/50 Project we can keep enough special “mom and pops” around to fill their hearts…and breathe life into our personal histories.
It’s important. Without them, our world gets pretty generic pretty fast.
Which three independents do you already miss…?
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