Goodbye Laïola (and umlauts).
Last New Year’s Day was a cold and clear Friday. I woke up very early in the morning. The night before had been Laïola’s last supper, so to speak. When the doors closed that night and the revelers were gone, we locked the door and papered the windows.
After two and a half really tough years, which of course included 2009—the roughest part of the recession—I had made an equally tough decision: to close Laïola, my first restaurant, and make way for something else. Something that, at the time, was nothing but a three-taco taco stand at the Ferry Plaza Farmers Market that I’d spontaneously opened only six months prior. Something we’d called Tacolicious, for god’s sake—a word that seemed just about right for a whimsical little market stand. But for a restaurant?
Now, it was 6 am in the morning, the first day of the new year and I was tired and a little hung, not to mention a ball of emotions: sad, nervous, scared shitless, yet determined. Nevertheless, my first waking thought was, TACOLICIOUS?! Was I high? What was I thinking? I was really going to close a restaurant with a umlaut over the i, not to mention a serious Spanish wine list, line cooks with aspirations of becoming Eric Ripert and a nose-to-tail program, for a restaurant focused on tacos, salsas and a name so cutsey that even my eight-year-old daughter sounded silly saying it? Yes I was.
And there was no going back. Sara and I had spent nearly every waking moment of November and December working on graphics and signage and paint colors almost to the brink of divorce. (The word teal still makes Sara scowl.) Meanwhile, Telmo and Mike and I had talked and talked and talked and practiced and cooked and dreamed and worried and speculated. Now my dad was in town, tools at hand, ready to build the bar. Sara’s parents were armed with paintbrushes and my friend Isaac, a carpenter, was there to oversee the motley, D.I.Y. crew that included dishwashers and cooks.
Isaac, me and Dad taking down Laïola's bar.
From inside the restaurant space, as we started to dismantle the rosewood bar, I could hear the Marina cheering on a football game. Every ten or so minutes, someone would try to come into the restaurant they thought was still Laïola and we’d have to send them away. A little voice in my head kept asking me if I’d thrown in the Laïola towel prematurely. But we kept our heads down and reopened our doors just two weeks later.
That was then.
And this is now.
Hello Tacolicious.
Tacolicious has become as much a part of me as it’s become a part of Chestnut Street.
I can’t believe it’s only been a year, quite an amazing one thanks to everyone—our wonderful staff, supportive friends and family, our regular customers. I still pinch myself every day. Honestly, I feel so blessed. The fact that we’re opening a second Tacolicious has barely sunk in.
Of course, this calls for celebrating, something Tacolicious is very good at doing. This New Year’s Day we’ll be open. Please come by and let us buy you a a drink. We’d love to thank you for making 2010 such a great year and wish you all the best for 2011.
Happy New Year!
Joe, Sara, Mike, Kory, Telmo and the T-lish staff