What Will Happen to Our Restaurants?

I saw a poignant sight recently. A little restaurant near our home had converted part of its parking lot to an outdoor eating space. Tables were set and socially distanced.  It was about 5:00 p.m. Raindrops started falling on my windshield as I sat watching, waiting at a stoplight. One of the waitstaff started scrambling to gather up napkins and menus. Most likely, no dinner shift for them tonight. My heart broke a little.

Eateries are struggling in Connecticut. As a state, we’ve towed the line with social distancing and mask wearing and our numbers have stayed low (so far). That’s the good news.

The bad news is that restaurants are fighting to stay in business, having to find new, creative way to attract and keep customers.

The other day, a friend who owned a French bistro in Westport let us know he had closed his doors. Before Covid, this little place was lively and fun and always packed. The small bar at the front was full of people drinking martinis or glasses of champagne. We celebrated many a birthday and anniversary there.

The air smelled of garlic and fresh bread. The interior was painted a happy coral color with black and white booths. When it was someone’s birthday, three or four smiling French waiters would come by, all singing “Bon Anniversaire!”

We spent a few New Year’s Eves with friends dining on escargot and lemony sole. The last holiday was full of coral and black helium balloons bumping along the ceiling, their strings hanging down. The owners always went out of their way to make everything fun and festive.

Now its doors are closed  — maybe forever — another victim of Covid-19.

Even for those restaurants who have stayed open, many are shells of what they used to be. Some have no inside dining. Some do, but the seating is sparse, with tables far apart. The waiters are masked. Customers have to cover their faces when they move about.

Others are living mainly on take-out business, some offering inexpensive “family dinners” – for 4-6 people, with a choice of entrée, including salad, bread, and pasta. They go for a  price that would’ve barely covered one person before. Some even throw in a bottle of wine. There’s still a lot of “curbside service,” another term never heard of a year ago.

Yet even with these careful measures (or maybe because of them) business is down. Many people see what’s happening to other parts of the country that opened too soon. They’re afraid of dining out.

I can’t help wondering, once our cold Connecticut winter sets in, what will happen to these eateries who serve only outside? Many restaurants are doing everything they can, but still barely break even.

“How are you doing?” I ask the lady at our local pizza place.  It’s a question I never asked her pre-Covid-19. Back then, we were just customer and vendor. Now we talk more. We both wear masks and I stand six feet away from the counter, marked off on the floor by blue masking tape. She sighs as she rings the register. “We’re trying our best, but I’ll be honest, it’s hard.”

I buy Japanese food at a place that had always been friendly and bustling with great sushi and tempura. Now a wooden counter blocks the entrance. Its take-out only. The young woman rings me up. You can’t see anyone smile anymore.

Before Covid-19 we didn’t realize as we sat in booths or waited casually for the maitre d’ to seat us, or laughed around close-together tables that we were at the end of an era, where we could dine where we wanted and enjoy a restaurant without weighing the odds. We could joke around with an unmasked waiter.

What will our restaurant community look like after a year or two of Covid? Like any war zone, some will survive, and some won’t.

And yes, compared to many hardships in this country – patients on respirators, their worried families, exhausted healthcare workers, too many people out of work — these problems are small. But they’re still there. So many livelihoods walk a fragile line.

Today, I watch that waiter gather up napkins and menus as the rain comes down harder, a lost chance at business, a notion that would’ve been unthinkable at the beginning of this year.  Now it’s the new normal.

I feel sad as I drive away but remind myself to try and stay optimistic. This too shall pass. Someday those restaurants – the ones we knew and loved – might return.

We miss them already.

 

How are the eateries affected in your area? Comments are always welcome and if you’d like, please share!

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