As many of you can probably imagine, winding down a business is one of the hardest decisions a person can make. It’s not something that happens overnight. It’s a slow, emotional unraveling of something built with heart, long hours, and endless hope.
The past few months have brought waves of reflection, exhaustion, and gratitude. Closing The Coalman has been deeply emotional, an experience of grief, release, and reckoning. It means saying goodbye to a dream that carried so much of my energy and faith, while confronting the financial and emotional realities of that choice. From sorting through paperwork to the physical pieces, it’s been a process that reshapes how I see myself and what’s next.
And yet, even in the hardest moments, I’ve felt surrounded by the love and loyalty of our community. The team members who became family. The guests who became friends. The laughter, the shared meals, the small moments that reminded me every single day why I chose this work in the first place. That sense of connection, the kind that can only be built across a table, over a meal, or through a simple act of hospitality.
Restaurant life can be beautiful. It can also be brutal. I once joked that I felt most compatible with a nun, someone who devotes her life entirely to a calling. When you believe so deeply in what you’re creating, it’s easy to give it everything you have. You build community for others… welcoming, feeding, connecting, often at the expense of your own. Birthdays get missed, weekends blur into workdays, and your personal world grows smaller even as your professional one expands. The rhythm of it all becomes sacred and consuming, and still, you keep showing up, because the reward is seeing others gather, laugh, and belong.
But as I step back and breathe for a moment, I’m reminded that creation doesn’t stop when one door closes. It shifts. It changes shape. It finds new ways to exist.
As we move toward Halloween, Thanksgiving and the end of the year, I feel the natural slowing of autumn, a pause that invites reflection. Business softens, daylight shortens, and the world around us tugs at our heartstrings. It’s a time that helps me focus on the haves rather than the have-nots: time with my circle of family and friends, the teams who continue to bring joy to our spaces, quiet mornings at the farmers market, walks with the dogs, a messy garden, and the simple act of being present.
There is deep gratitude in all of it. Gratitude for the people who believed in The Coalman and for the loyal crew, vendors, and guests who continue to bring life to Brimmer & Heeltap, Red Arrow, and Halfseas. Gratitude for those who show up with heart every day, who grow, craft, and share what makes hospitality possible. Most of all, gratitude for a community that continues to show up for me, for one another, and for the simple joy of gathering over good food, good wine, and good company.
Our little corner of Ballard continues to offer inspiration and connection. We’ll keep doing what we do best, welcoming you in, pouring something delicious, and creating spaces where conversation, comfort, and curiosity meet.
Much love and gratitude,
Jen
