A Postindustrial columnist and Wheeling, West Virginia, restaurateur reflects on the determination it takes to fulfill your dreams.
If time flies when you’re having fun, what does it do when you’re working your ass off?
Twelve years ago this month, we opened the doors to Vagabond Kitchen. Depending on the day, it feels like yesterday or two lifetimes ago.
At the time, I was only six months removed from a six-year stint living out West. The year before, I had launched the Vagabond Chef project, riding my motorcycle around the country, chasing stories, meeting cooks, and various sundry culinarians. I wanted to learn and better understand American food culture.
I planted seeds on that trip, even if I didn’t know what would grow.
Over 13,000 miles, I visited kitchens, farms, fisheries, breweries, bakeries, and small businesses. I talked to people who had built something from nothing. It felt like we were in the middle of a local-food renaissance. Farmers knew their customers. Chefs knew their producers. Communities were rediscovering what made them unique.
I came home energized.
I also came home with the confidence of a young man who had absolutely no idea what he was getting himself into. I have a habit of leaping before I look.
Not long after, Vagabond Kitchen opened its doors.
What grew from those seeds wasn’t exactly what I expected.
Back then, I thought the dream was opening a restaurant, building a menu, creating a gathering place, and cooking food that celebrated Appalachia while drawing inspiration from everywhere else I’d been.
And those things are certainly part of it. But 12 years later, I’ve learned that dreams aren’t built on inspiration. They’re built on commitment.
The dream gets you started. Commitment keeps you going when the novelty wears off.
Vagabond Kitchen customers enjoying our take-out menu on the road.
Commitment is showing up when the fryer is broken, the walk-in goes down, three people call off, and you still have a full dining room coming through the door in two hours.
Commitment is making payroll when the numbers don’t look as pretty as you’d like them to.
Commitment is finding a way through economic downturns, labor shortages, rising costs, a pandemic, a $37 million street resurfacing project that creates a literal moat around your entrance, and every other curveball the universe decides to throw your way.
There’s an old saying: be like a duck. Calm on the surface, paddling like hell underneath.
That’s restaurant life in a nutshell.
Guests see the plate that lands on the table. They see the cocktail, the atmosphere, and the laughter of friends gathered around the table. What they don’t always see is the thousand small decisions and efforts that make those moments possible.
And that’s OK.
Because the truth is, I’m not most proud of any one dish we’ve served or any recognition we’ve received. I’m proud of the accumulation of ordinary days. Thousands of services. Countless meals. The team members who showed up early, stayed late, and cared deeply about what we were building. The guests who trusted us with first dates, anniversaries, proposals, birthdays, celebrations, and regular old nights when nobody felt like cooking.
Those are the things that matter.
Looking back, I realize this journey has never really been about a restaurant. It’s been about putting down roots.
After twenty years on the road, I chose to come home. I chose Wheeling.
Over the last 12 years, I’ve watched this city struggle, adapt, reinvent itself, and keep moving forward. In many ways, the stories of Vagabond Kitchen and Wheeling share the same trait: grit.
Neither has always had an easy road.
Neither is finished growing.
And both have a strong future ahead.
Twelve years ago, I planted some seeds. Some flourished. Some failed. Some grew into things I never could have imagined.
The lesson I’ve learned is simple: dreams matter, but commitment matters more.
The dream got us here.
The commitment will carry us forward.
Tomorrow morning, we’ll unlock the doors, fire up the equipment, and do it all again.
And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
