Each day as we open the Cantina, prepare the menu and ready for service, there is laughter, realness, integrity of intention and the efforts of hard work.  There are walls that hold in the smells and flavors that I have dreamed about. There are chairs for people to take a load off at the end of their day. There are bottles of tequila, whisky, beer, wine that I love and feel proud to serve. And Tina parks herself just outside. For the record, the truck has not stopped going out. People ask every day “how’s that little bus of your doing? Does it still go out?”  I always answer yes, smile and point to it. “Look, she’s out there right now.” Tina…. my first love at Comida. The hardest working employee I have had. She’s taken a few beatings since we moved to Mayberry (the name I affectionately call the neighborhood of Prospect where the Cantina is located). But she’s happy for the move and looks damn good sitting outside the restaurant she essentially built.

After the second week I arrived early one morning to find no fewer than 2 dozen eggs thrown all over the front of the restaurant and all over Tina’s sides. Hard and crusty, it had dried over night. Egg is no friend to stucco, and Tina looked down right ashamed as she sat their caked in goo. But life goes on and every once in a while you pick a winning number. And I did just that when it comes to my landlord. He came right over with a Hotsy and power washed both Tina and the store front and we were back in action in no time, knees dusted off and tears wiped away. Business ownership is many things, boring is never one of them.

In the mean time, each day the Cantina grows. In a neighborhood people balked at for being out of the way, too long of a drive from Boulder, Comida has a wait. On any given Tuesday night I will walk through the restaurant and count a butt in every seat, and many waiting at the door. I know it frustrates those that come and don’t want to wait, it’s Longmont after all, why should they?  But I swear, once they have a freshly made Comida Coin with salt making their palm chilly, they relax a little and the pain of waiting is eased. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. There is a fine line for people, I know.  It’s a delicate balance when it comes to waiting. We walk the line a lot I am sure, but hopefully the company they’ve come with will serve to entertain and the Comida we set in front of them once they have a table is worth the wait. Whatever… a girl can dream.

Now Spring is in full swing, the patio is open, we started lunch and brunch 2 weeks ago, and the truck is booking out into October. We get to go Aspen Food and Wine again this year, and the amount of kindness and attention the various news agents, writers, bloggers and critics have given us takes the smile from ear to ear. And while we strive every day to do the right thing, to not fail for our guests, or for each other, we still bump into our humanity daily. Admittedly, we have failed. But like any good school of hard knocks, the lessons have been real and we have done our best to pay attention. No doubt, they will continue to present themselves, and we will do our best to listen.

So that’s really it for now. I know the time in between posts has been great, and I will try to keep you updated more often. If you are reading this I figure A: it’s the middle of the night and you can’t sleep or B:  you are trying to open a food truck and want advice or C: you’re my mom. If you are not in one of those categories, I thank you. And if you are, I thank you. There are many out there without which I could not do this. Most don’t get named, but hopefully all know who they are.

I will leave you with a quote that each person hired into Comida reads in the Employee Manual. It serves as our mission:

“First things first.

Comida means food.

Plain and simple.

It is why we are here.

We are here to make it and serve it with graciousness and delight.

We are here to make friends with our guests and to make friends with each other.

We will create and foster a culture based on loving what we do and doing it with dignity.

Food is just food.

And service just service.

And really, it is a privilege to have either. “

Be well, stay tuned, and eat more Street Food!

Rayme

- First day out/ Terri Cox’s party/ turned Tina on and she burned my ponytails and singed my eyelashes. Service began… we put out better food than people ever imagined.

-Driving to Aspen/ white knuckle driving by yourself, 2 times (4 if you count each way) you, hand out the window, offering people tacos on the way up I-70.

-Learning that we always need the ladder, we always need the cooler, we always need a lighter, we always need the cover on jenny! (door is close for generator…., window falling out of casing just as I said, ” Gosh Jovee, I’m not sure that window is secure.” “We can see it all from way up here” “I taught english in Jamaica man…” “Peaches falling out the back of Tina, slow motion… it took and hour” “offering an orange in a time of need” “The dirts, the garbage dumpster, the wind, the snow, the rain, the heat, the cold, the frozen toes, hands, burned eyelashes, burned corneas, situation DOWN! Situation Overnight….

-I go out of town and Jenny breaks. You spend all day underneath her, fixing her.

-countless runs for propane.

-the coldest night after Thanksgiving.

-Same thing every day…

-1000 tacos, 200 people, 45 minutes. I have to sing.

-The cops, the douche bags, the good ones. City council meetings. Being illegal for a year. The guy that pretended to be a security guard. Figuring out how to make lemonade from lemons so many times… and we did it. Together.

For you… Jovee. I will miss you. Please don’t be a stranger. May you find all the joy you are seeking. May you find warmth on snowy mornings, a cold pool at the end or middle of any hot day, time with your wife you may not have had due to Tina’s needs, and mine, and may you keep on living the dream. I was sure honored to be a part of that for the time we had. All my love.

Rayme