Summer jobs were never a requirement in my family. My parents emphasized summer reading, sports, and travel.
After my dad died, everything changed. My mother was struggling with grief, and sometimes that grief surfaced as anger. While I was in college, she would occasionally threaten to cut off my allowance. Each time, I panicked and took jobs that were less than ideal.
My first job was at Dairy Queen, earning $2.20 an hour. I worked the closing shift, which included pouring the soft-serve mix from the machine into a bucket and storing it in the refrigerator overnight. The machine itself was a beast. Cleaning it required a ladder, rubber gloves, and far more fortitude than I possessed. Between the late hours and a full college course load, I lasted about a month before I got sick from exhaustion.
My second job was as a hostess at The Diamond Horseshoe, Laramie, Wyoming’s finest dining establishment in 1975. I enjoyed dressing up, greeting guests,and busing tables, but those four-hour shifts felt brutal. Between both jobs, I think I saved a grand total of twenty-four dollars.
My conclusion was clear: food service was not for me.
Fast forward twenty years, and life has a sense of humor.
My husband and his father became friends with the owners of our favorite restaurant in Annapolis, Yin Yankee. The restaurant had everything we missed from our homes in Hawaii and California, with sushi at the top of the list. What began as a favorite dining spot became a place where friendships were formed.
Ironically, after deciding years before that food service was definitely not my calling,
my father-in-law, out of the blue, bought what he believed was a “turn-key” restaurant. His vision was simple and appealing: wouldn’t it be wonderful to have a place in our small town that served all of the foods we loved?
My husband, Matt, had spent most of his adult life in the food service industry, he had all of the connections so he was ready to take on the challenge. Along with a small but determined team, he quickly discovered that the restaurant was anything but turn-key. Over the next six months, the space was gutted from top to bottom, transforming what had been sold as a finished product into something entirely our own.
We had been fortunate to work with a couple of talented chefs who embraced our dream. At the time, there weren’t any sushi or California/Hawaii inspired restaurants on the Eastern Shore, so we set out to create something unique. The menu reflected both our travels and our family traditions. We served poke bowls alongside my father’s famous Christmas Curry, Cuban pizza next to fresh sushi rolls, and favorites like fried calamari, the Chesapeake roll, and fish tacos. Every dish had a story behind it.
While the chefs crafted the menu, Matt seemed to do everything else. He developed an exceptional wine list and creative cocktail menu while also painting walls, pouring concrete, hauling supplies, and designing and helping install a commercial kitchen. There were days when he would spend the morning meeting with vendors, the afternoon covered in drywall dust, and the evening tasting wines for the restaurant.
What began as an impulsive purchase became a labor of love. Every corner of the restaurant reflected the countless hours of work, creativity, and determination that went into bringing our family’s vision to life. It wasn’t just a business; it was a place where our favorite foods, family recipes, and shared dreams came together under one roof.
We weathered some difficult years, including a tough recession, and through it all we genuinely loved what we were doing. For twelve years, our family and friends worked alongside us, sharing long days, late nights, holidays, celebrations, and challenges. Somewhere between the dinner rushes and staff meetings, many of our customers became friends, and many of our coworkers became family. Some of those friendships remain among the most meaningful relationships in our lives today.
When we first opened, our goal was simple: make it ten years. Reaching that milestone felt almost impossible in the beginning, so when we eventually made the decision to close our doors after twelve years, our emotions were bittersweet. There was sadness, certainly, but there was also an overwhelming sense of pride. We had built something special, something that had exceeded our expectations and touched the lives of so many people in our community.
Looking back, we have no regrets. The restaurant gave us adventures, friendships, lessons, and memories that will last a lifetime. It challenged us in ways we never could have imagined and taught us more about hard work, perseverance, and ourselves than any other experience.
At the same time, we are deeply grateful for the life we have now. Owning a restaurant is all-consuming. The work never really ends, and the responsibility follows you home every night. While we cherish those years and everything they gave us, we are also thankful that chapter has closed. It was a wonderful adventure, but it was a lot of work and we are perfectly content enjoying our meals on the other side of the table these days.
“I’ve tried my hardest; I’ve done my best; I hope you will enjoy and perhaps even remember this small thing I have prepared for you.” Rebecca Kaufman from the book, The Reservation.
