A&E

READY FOR PICKUP Takeout ordering the new norm for local restaurants

Doug Weaver, co-owner and executive chef at The Sweet Onion in Waynesville. (photo: Garret K. Woodward)

BY GARRET K. WOODWARD S TAFF WRITER I t’s Saturday evening at The Sweet Onion in downtown Waynesville. Normally during the time of year, the dining room and bar counter would be packed with locals and tourists alike, servers zipping around in every direction, the open-air kitchen buzzing with orders atop a fiery grill.

But, right now, the space is empty. There’s not a server in sight. The room is eerily quiet except for some noise coming from the kitchen. Standing in front of the grill is Doug Weaver, co-owner and executive chef for The Sweet Onion.

“Honestly, it has been surprisingly better than I thought it was going to be,” Weaver said. “Our entire town is stocked up on food and I thought everybody was just going to get so scared that they completely stopped ‘dining out.’”

In the wake of the current coronavirus pandemic, restaurants and bars across the country and around the world have shutdown, closing their doors to the general public and having to layoff massive numbers of staff until government mandates and social distancing guidelines recede.

And in the midst of these widespread changes in not only societal protocol, but also in respective culinary scenes, the idea of takeout orders has been implemented to somewhat keep restaurants afloat, all while providing folks with a variety of food options.

“What boggles my mind is how quickly people have adapted to these changes,” Weaver said. “In regards to our business, everything now is a ‘to go’ order and our customers have shifted into that mode when it comes to ordering and coming to pick up what we’ll have ready for them.”

Now in its 13th year of operation, The Sweet Onion is a pillar of gourmet food and fine dining for Haywood County and greater Western North Carolina. It’s a bastion for quality dishes and hearty conversation, where Weaver & Co. aim to pack the place and play host to the masses that come through the door looking for a unique culinary experience.

“You’ve got to understand, what I love running is a restaurant, and what I’m a running right now is a to-go business — it’s not the same thing,” Weaver solemnly noted. “I’m in default mode right now. But, everybody in our community is going through their own channels and trying to keep their balance, which is what I’m trying to do, too.”

Looking around The Sweet Onion, it’s pretty much a skeleton crew nowadays. The restaurant had to lay off 33 employees last week,

“These are hard times, these are lean times. Letting go of 33 employees, all of which I consider friends, well, that was a hard week.”

— Doug Weaver

many of which have been loyal to the business for several years. What’s left is Weaver, coowner Dan Elliott, a floor manager and Weaver’s wife (a server) who are taking the togo orders and working the impromptu delivery window near the front entrance.

“These are hard times, these are lean times. Letting go of 33 employees, all of which I consider friends, well, that was a hard week,” Weaver said. “And this week has also been hard, where it’s just a few of us here keeping the light on. We’re away from our families every day now and we’re trying to keep the restaurant from sinking.”

Compared to sales this week last year, Weaver estimates the to-go orders only match about 10 percent of what the restaurant would normally take in. But, even with 90 percent of its business gone, that 10 percent is enough to keep the vultures away. That fraction of incoming money pays the bills and ensures that The Sweet Onion avoids having to take out a bank loan and accrue debt when it reopens with a full staff once again, whenever that may be.

“This is the situation we’ve all been put in and we’re going to the do best that we can like we always have — you’ve got to treat every customer as if it were your last,” Weaver said. “We’re lucky that we’re in the comfort food category, where right now a lot of people really need some comfort food.”

But, even in the face of adversity and uncertainty, Weaver sees the beauty of Waynesville, this small mountain town that never fails to come together to help each other — this justified sense of neighborly generosity and kindness, something that goes a long way these days. “My wife and I go to our kid’s school to pick up his lesson packets and there are the teachers standing out there for hours handing them their lessons, then on the other side of the line they have lunches ready for the kids to take home,” Weaver said. “People don’t have to do all of these things, but they do because they care. You’re seeing everything come full circle, not only as a business owner, but as a citizen of this community.”

Came to pass eyes that lost their vision, learned to see with sturdy intuition I t’s a crazy world out there right now, folks. And yet, it’s always been kind of nuts anyhow, just more so under the current circumstances.

But, I remain optimistic. Shit, what’s the alternative? Freak out and bail on the universe? Nah, not my cup o’tea. As an older millennial, this the second economic recession since I entered the workforce 12 years ago. And through all of that, I’m still (happily and proudly) a writer and journalist.

I vividly remember the winter of 2007- 2008. Fresh out of college, I got my first newspaper gig with the tiny Teton Valley News in Driggs, Idaho. Uprooted my entire life in Upstate New York and headed west. Whatever didn’t fit in the back of my 2001 GMC Sonoma didn’t come with me. The inventory was pretty much this: three garbage bags of clothes, two boxes of vinyl records, three boxes of books and miscellaneous items (cooking gear, lamp, stereo). For the better part of 2008, I roamed f f

around Eastern Idaho and Western Wyoming, writing stories about cattle ranchers, pro skiers, brewers, dog sled champions, blacksmiths, etc. Oh, and an infamous cover story about breakfast toast that caused a community uproar.

Living in my most favorite place in the entire world (Grand Teton Mountains), I was scraping by as a writer: just barely enough of a paycheck for rent, groceries, gas and a bar tab at the nearby Knotty Pine Supper Club.

By the end of the summer of 2008, my head was hitting the ceiling with the small newspaper. I wanted to venture out more, write bigger and more intricate features, and expand my knowledge of the cosmic magic that is everyday life in happenstance situations.

Labor Day 2008. I put in my two-week notice and headed to the Burning Man festival. I returned to Idaho from the Black Rock Desert with a whole new perspective on life — I was not “going” to be a writer, I was a writer. The light switch in my mind flicked on. I never questioned my place in the cosmos again.

Back in Idaho, it was just about midSeptember 2008 when I packed up my things and said goodbye: to my apartment, friends, co-workers and the Knotty Pine. With the truck aimed for Plattsburgh, New York, I headed east.

That first night (Sept. 15, 2008), I made it as far as Miles City, Montana. I got a cheap hotel room and a six-pack of beer. I was 23 and anything was possible now. Cracking that first Miller High Life, I turned on the TV. The news across the screen was frantic: Lehman Brothers had collapsed and Wall Street was in a freefall.

The United States economy was headed towards a meltdown and there I was, day one into my “new life” with high hopes of another newspaper gig in New York. Suddenly, all of society seemed like it was cracking before my eyes.

I continued my drive across America, radio on with news reports of more financial institutions collapsing. Somewhere in rural Iowa, I paid $4.47 a gallon for gas. When I got back to the North Country, Wall Street was on fire and the entire country had changed since I left Idaho earlier in the week. And for the next four years, I struggled and fought to stay in the journalism industry. Newspapers and magazines were disappearing every day. Once promising opportunities had now vanishing. But, I didn’t care. I would figure it out, somehow.

I slept in a guest room in my parent’s house, slept on couches, slept in the back of my truck, slept in rest areas and in truck stops, all while writing freelance articles for $40 a pop. I even did substitute teaching at my old high school to make ends meet. It was terrible, but I never questioned that journalism was what I wanted to do with my time on this planet.

Then, in June 2012, I got a phone call from Scott McLeod, publisher of The Smoky Mountain News in Waynesville. He liked my work and offered me a dream gig: arts and entertainment editor, which oversaw all of the company’s travel magazines, too. I jumped on it.

Packed up the truck with my garbage bags of clothes, vinyl records and books and drove 1,100 miles to Haywood County. That first week on the job for SMN, I slept underneath my desk in the newsroom. I went broke moving to Carolina and had to wait for my first paycheck to use as a deposit for an apartment.

Thus, here we are, some eight years later. Another economic recession, but for an entirely different and surreal reason. Yes, our newspaper has had to make drastic cuts to stay afloat and navigate correctly through these uncertain times and choppy waters. But, we remain. And I still have my job, even if it’s going to be extremely tight financially for the foreseeable future. And that’s OK. It is. Those memories of struggle from 2008 through 2012 are never too far from my thoughts.

I didn’t give up then and I won’t give up now. Nor shall any of you out there either that are currently reading this. Keep your head up. Appreciate the small, precious things in life. Remember what you’re made of and use that as fuel for inspiration and determination moving forward.

We’ll get through this. Don’t forget: this ain’t our first rodeo.

Life is beautiful, grasp for it, y’all.

PLEASE STAY SAFE! WE MISS YOU

SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL MUSICIANS

743 HAYWOOD RD • WEST ASHEVILLE ISISASHEVILLE.COM 828.575.2737

a website to take you to places where there are no websites.

HAYWOOD STRONG.

ABOVE: Dave Angel, owner of Elevated Mountain Distillery, repurposes his distillery to produce hand sanitizer for Haywood County EMS.

The Big Picture / The Big Payoff Haywood County has a head start, and one chance – just one chance – to slow the movement of this virus among us.

If we can slow the virus down by the actions we take now, then we will buy the time we need to get our healthcare system ready to deal with the sickness that is coming to us.

If we donʼt take this opportunity, then the uncontrolled spread of the virus will overwhelm our doctors, nurses and hospitals and we will suffer unnecessary deaths to our most vulnerable – the older and the weaker. Businesses and residents should try to focus on the benefit to our entire community by following these proclamations. None of us wants to be a person responsible for the spread of the virus. These proclamations are based on the bitter experiences of the countries and states who waited too long or took too little action. We all share the same goal in this crisis: to slow the virus down, to buy our healthcare system the time to get ready. We all want to get over these disruptions in our lives as quickly as possible. We can do that if we look to the spirit of these proclamations and look for every chance to stay home and stay safe.

Read the North Carolina Proclamation: www.ncdhhs.gov/divisions/public-health/coronavirus-disease-2019-covid-19-response-north-carolina Read the Haywood County Proclamation: www.haywoodcountync.gov/684/Coronavirus-Covid-19-Information www.haywoodcountync.gov

Fire, fire burning bright … the notebooks of Leonard Cohen I n some literary and music circles the debate continues as to whom is the best songwriter of the 20th and current 21st centuries. In circles I travel in, this debate usually comes down to either Bob Dylan or Leonard Cohen.

This debate even carries over to the debate as to who is the best poet in relatively recent years. Recently, Bob Dylan won the Nobel Prize in Literature for his songwriting lyrics. Leonard Cohen has also won many literary awards including the Songwriters Hall of Fame and the Prince of Austurias Award for Literature. Both have written books of poetry, prose and published large tomes of their song lyrics.

So, it would seem to be a dead heat and Dylan and Cohen are running neck and neck. At least that was before Cohen’s posthumous collection The Flame came out a year and a half ago and only a couple years after his death in 2016. (It doesn’t seem that long ago that he came to Asheville as part of his world tour and I saw him in concert at the Thomas Wolfe Auditorium.) The Flame was compiled and edited by Leonard Cohen’s son, Adam, who is himself a musician and songwriter who has taken texts from his father’s unpublished journals and notebooks that he was working on when he died. It is essentially, and as the subtitle for the book states, a collection of “Poems, Lyrics, Notebooks and Drawings.” In his Forward to the book, Adam Cohen writes: “My father, before he was anything else, was a poet and regarded this vocation as a ‘mission from Gd’. Writing was his reason for being. It was the fire he was tending to, the most significant flame he fueled. It was never extinguished.” Between the covers of this 277 page book we not only get some of Cohen’s most reknown and remembered song lyrics, works in progress, unfinished poems, jottings and, if this wasn’t enough, dozens of original drawings, paintings, self-portraits and Kenneth Patchen-like illustrated broadsides. So there is literally, and especially for Leonard Cohen fans, something for everyone. In The Flame, Cohen’s finely crafted and subtly profound metaphors and lyrics are

found everywhere. From the very first page in the poem “Happens To The Heart,” we get to experience the essence of Cohen’s mind and soul in the lines “I was always working steady/But I never called it art/I was funding my depression/Meeting Jesus reading Marx/Sure it failed my little fire/But it’s bright the dying spark/Go tell the young messiah/What happens to the heart.”

From there we get into the more confessional writing from his notebooks and jottings which contain entries like the lines in “Never Gave Nobody Trouble:” “never gave nobody trouble/i’m a law and order man/never gave nobody trouble/but you know damn well i can.”

Or in these more romantic lines from an unfinished piece he’s titled “Antique Song”: “Too old, too old to play the part,/But, oh! The kisses that we kissed,/That swept me to the shore/Of seas where hardly i exist, except to kiss you more.” All these finished and unfinished fragments are reminiscent of Cohen’s more wellknown poems and lyrics in songs such as “Crazy To Love You” and “Come Healing” and let’s not forget “Halleluja,” which is one of the most recorded songs of all time. Writer Thomas Crowe

Some of the entries in the Notebooks section read like a Christian confessional. This, from September 2008: “You who havenfallen/beneath all contempt/whose pockets are swollen/but you’re living in debt/and dead to the culture/that murdered your pride/you pick through the scriptures/for somewhere to hide.” And then this from an earlier entry on Aug. 11, 2000, and sounding somewhat local to us here in Western North Carolina: “It’s going to be like this/sitting in a bar in Geneva/or is it Zurich/I can never tell which/Carolina, Carolina/I can never tell which.”

From these would-be song lyrics we find ourselves also reading reminiscences such as the one describing a dream about hearing a concert by Tom Waits while sitting in the Green Room in a theatre in Brighton, England. Also, we are exploring notes from Campanille de San Marco, Venice, where he writes: “I just came back to say goodbye/Been raining almost every day/We came here for the sun/We had that earthquake in L.A./It wasn’t that much fun.” The Flame, with its drawings and photocopies of pages from original notebooks makes this tome seem almost like a personal gift. While unsigned, it comes across as being inscribed and something straight from Leonard Cohen’s personal pen. Perhaps this short entry written on Jan. 3 from Mumbai, India, pretty much says it all and serves as an exclamation point at the end of his posthumous book; as if looking back from above and scratching out in the sky: “We made a little garden/in the middle of L.A./so our hearts/they wouldn’t harden/& our spirits/they could play.” Leonard Cohen loved to play. Loved to play with words. He was a poet. A poet who had a genius for rhyme. I imagine him as being the next songwriter receiving the Nobel Prize ... yet in another time.

(Thomas Crowe is a regular contributor to the Smoky Mountain News. He is the author of several collections of poetry including Radiogenesis and Postcards From Peru. He lives in the Tuckasegee community of Jackson County and can be reached at newnativepress@hotmail.com)

Quality Trailers, Quality Prices