Opening a business isn’t choosing paint colors and celebrating ribbon cuttings.
It’s standing in the middle of a room where every wall seems to need replacing and wondering if you’ve completely lost your mind.
This week I’ve met with contractors, landscapers, sign companies, ADA sidewalk specialists, and planners. Every conversation seems to end with another estimate, another decision, another unexpected expense.
And strangely…
I’m more excited than ever.
Because every old building has to be carefully taken apart before it can become something beautiful again.
The same was true in Paris.
At Le Cordon Bleu, I wanted every dish to come out perfectly the first time. Instead, I overcooked fish, burned sauces, doubted myself, and occasionally wondered if I belonged there at all.
Growth is rarely glamorous.
It usually looks like demolition.
It looks like dust covering everything you love while you hold on to a vision no one else can quite see yet.
As I stood outside the shop this week imagining new walkways leading to the front entrance and the future event space, I realized something.
Those walkways aren’t just for customers.
They’re a reminder that every journey begins with a single path.
Soon people will walk through those doors to learn to cook, celebrate birthdays, share wine, make memories with their children, and perhaps even discover a new chapter in their own lives.
Right now, all I can see are contractors, blueprints, and construction dust.
But I’ve learned something over the last few years.
Paris taught me that the beautiful things in life are almost always built on the other side of uncertainty.
So this week, I’m choosing to trust the process.
The walls may be coming down.
But the dream is finally taking shape.
Merci for following along. I can’t wait to welcome you through those doors.
