Tim Smith and I happened upon Bob’s one Sunday, looking for breakfast and coffee. A fluke, because it was their opening day, memorable only because the end was already visible. They struggled on for nearly two years, but, like a horse with a broken leg, inevitability came with a bang.
When Bob and his people sat down around the conference table to plan his new restaurant, I wonder at the unfolding of events….
Bob wanted a nautical theme, because the land he acquired was on a creek – that’s where the “Boathouse” came from, naturally.
Bob’s lawyer suggested that the critical element of a boathouse would be boat paraphernalia – that’s how the decor was decided.
Bob’s marine mechanic Googled “boathouse food” and created the menu.
Bob’s accountant searched assiduously for the best servers and managers Craigslist can provide.
Lastly, Bob’s banker saw an arbitrage opportunity to unload the assets of:
~ a boat repair shop he was shepherding through bankruptcy (all the exterior junk. You’ll see.)
~ a hotel/conference facility on his books in foreclosure (the second-hand chairs.)
~ a lumber yard with excess stock (all the low-grade wooden fixtures including mid-air table storage.)
~ his buddy’s failed commercial clothing business (the kitschy staff get-up. Bowties? Srsly?)
And the services of;
~ a carpentry business his brother-in-law owns (all the poorly nailed and screwed fittings.)
But, you say, this is an establishment serving food and beverages. Well, yes, that’s technically true. Food is served here. It’s fine. But you’ll never notice because you’ll be unable to overcome the feeling that you’re eating in the restaurant equivalent of an oceanic Goodwill store.