We priced commercial stoves today. I carried my notebook into the restaurant supply houses, but didn't write anything down. Mentally, I just noted "thousands" to each item. I was pleased that, in the second store we went to, the amount of "thousands" each item cost started, in most cases, with a "1" rather than a "2," as they had at the first store.

I keep telling Tom that we haven't done anything irrevocable. Until we sign a lease and buy stoves and things, we can change our minds and not do anything.

Since there's a local lack of good rye bread, I made my own today. It was great, the equal of the best bakery rye I've ever tasted. It's also a lot of work, so I can expect to be working inhuman hours until I can get a good staff trained.

There's also a lack of good pastrami. Tom expects me to make my own. I don't think he understands how exacting an artform curing meat can be. Just because I can make good brined turkey and chicken, and passable bacon, doesn't mean I know the first thing about pastrami.

Okay, off to look up pastrami on the Internet...