More GR History: Breakfast with Consequences

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When I first took over The Goochland Restaurant, there was one important thing I needed to set straight for the record.

I could not cook an egg.

Not a little shaky on timing.  Not occasionally guessing wrong.  I mean, fully, completely unprepared for anything involving heat, pans, or anything that sizzled.

I dont even like eggs, which feels like important context in hindsight, especially since the GR is best known for its all-day breakfast.  The reason you can order lunch at 7 a.m. is that I absolutely do not like breakfast food.

That is just who I am.

Now I do enjoy a good egg white omelet from time to time, which is now on the menu because, as it turns out, other people like egg whites too, not just me.

Back then, though, if eggs had feelings, they would have asked me for protection from me.

And yet…I had just taken over a restaurant.

I had enthusiasm.  I had love for the team, the community, and the place.  I had hope.

What I did not have was any business being behind a grill.

Thankfully, I had cooks.

Then one day…

I didn’t.

Not late.

Not sick.
Just…gone.

Suddenly, I was standing in a restaurant full of food with no one who actually knew how to turn it into meals.

At first, I tried to push through anyway.  I figure if I cared enough, I would somehow figure it out.  That is a charming belief, but not a very practical one when people are ordering breakfast.

So I did what felt like a perfectly reasonable solution at the time.

I went and sat on the blue bench outside Food Lion.
For two hours, I made eye contact with every single person who walked by.

“Do you know how to cook?”

“…Would you be interested in a cook position?”

I tried to sound friendly.

I tried to sound professional.

But I’m pretty sure I looked like a woman powered entirely by hope and mild panic.

Most people kept walking.
Some smiled politely.
Others avoided eye contact as if I had just asked them to help move a couch up three flights of stairs with no elevator and no emotional support.
After two hours…

I gave up.

I drove back to the restaurant, sat down at the community table…
and cried.

Not because I was weak.

Because I cared.
I cared about the team.
I cared about the people who came in to eat.
I cared about the place I had taken responsibility for.
And in that moment, all of that love and responsibility felt very heavy.

After I had my moment, something shifted.

I realized I’d been waiting for someone to walk through the door and save the day.

A cook.
Someone with experience.
Someone who already knew what they were doing.
Then it hit me.

This was one of those self-rescuing princess situations.

Apparently…
I was the princess.

Which was unfortunate, because I still couldn’t cook an egg.

So I pulled out the menu.

And I decided that if I couldn’t find someone to cook it…
I was going to learn to cook it myself.
The next chapter of my life can best be described as “breakfast with consequences.”

If you remember those early days of me cooking, you may remember that your eggs basically identified as whatever you ordered.

“Over easy” was less of a cooking method and more of an aspiration.
Sometimes the waitress, who had significantly more restaurant experience than I did, would refuse even to take the plate out.

She was trying to protect both the customer and my dignity.

On the days she couldn’t stop me, I would carry the plate out myself with all the confidence I could emotionally gather.

I’d set it down and tell the starving customer, “It’s the best I could do.”

Then I’d offer to comp the meal while gently reminding them that it would all eventually turn into poop anyway.

Shockingly, this was not considered standard restaurant service.

People graciously ate the food anyway.

And somehow…
they kept coming back.

One day, someone ordered a chef salad with hard-boiled eggs.

I gave him scrambled eggs because, in my mind, eggs were eggs, and I truly believed I had solved the problem.

He ate it.

Then,he very firmly informed me that I should never do that again.

Fair enough.

I wasn’t fast.
Ticket times were…aspirational.
There were burned things.
Overcooked things.

A few things that probably still qualify as unsolved mysteries.
There were mornings when I questioned every life choice that had led me to standing over a flat top, arguing with breakfast.

But there was also progress.

One dish at a time.
One mistake at a time.
One small victory at a time.
Slowly, I learned the menu.
One day, I realized I wasn’t pretending to be the cook anymore.  I actually could cook. (The GR menu)

And somewhere along the way, I realized something important.

You do not have to start out knowing everything.
You just have to care enough to keep going when you don’t.

Today, I’m happy to report that I can cook eggs much better than when I first took over The Goochland Restaurant.

Not perfect every time.
But solid.
Confident.

And no longer a threat to the public breakfast.

More importantly, I learned that sometimes the person you’re waiting on to save the day…

is you.

Turns out the self-rescuing princess eventually learned to cook breakfast.

And I’d call that a pretty good upgrade from where I  started.

Six Things The Goochland Restaurant Has Taught Me

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When people think of a restaurant, they think about food. Over time, The Goochland Restaurant has become far more than that for me. It has become a place where God has shaped me and taught me lessons I didn’t know I needed.

 

1. Failure Is a Foundation

It’s okay to fail. My heart has learned to delight in moments wrapped in failure because they provide a foundation I can clearly see and build upon. In the shattering of an expectation, I am often on the verge of leveling up in a way that would not have been possible without the roadblock. Even if I move forward by only 1%, that’s still progress.

I’ve had ideas that didn’t work, days that didn’t go as planned, and moments when I questioned myself. Failure has never been the enemy. Pride is. Failure has taught me to get back up, keep learning, and trust that God’s grace is bigger than my mistakes.

 

2. The Shoelace Principle

I choose each day to step completely out of my comfort zone. I call this the “Shoelace Principle.” It is a reminder that some of life’s greatest opportunities begin when I step outside my comfort zone. When I do, I am pushed to connect with others, build relationships, and create a team that never would have existed if I had stayed comfortable.

When I was a little girl, I was convinced I could not tie my shoes. My mother was exasperated that her five-year-old daughter could not, or would not, learn to tie them. One day, she shared her weary woes with my grandmomma. My grandmomma replied that I did not need to know how to tie my shoes because I had the manners to ask someone for help.

At a very young age, my grandmomma taught me a lesson that I still carry with me today. Asking for help is not a weakness. It is an opportunity to connect with others. It requires humility, courage, and trust. There have been countless times, sometimes daily, when I have felt unqualified, unsure, and over my head. But I have learned that God rarely calls us to comfortable places. He calls us to trust Him. Growth happens when we take the next step, even with shaky knees and untied shoes.

 

3. Run My Own Race

Comparison is the thief of joy. I have always found joy in encouraging others and celebrating their success. Their victories have never taken away from mine. However, there have been times when I looked at what others were doing and questioned whether I was doing enough or moving fast enough.

Over time, I realized that I was never called to be like every other restaurant. My role was to be faithful with what God placed in my hands. His plans for me do not have to look like His plans for someone else.

Every business has a different story. Each person carries a unique calling. What works for one may not work for another. When I stay in my lane, I find peace, purpose, and joy in the journey. My focus is not to keep up with everyone else. It is to faithfully steward what God has entrusted to me and trust Him with the outcome.

 

4. Waiting Is Not Wasted

Waiting has never been easy for me. I like to solve problems, make plans, and keep moving forward. Yet some of the most important lessons in my life and business have come during seasons when there was nothing left to do but wait.

I have learned I will never have all the answers. Most days, I’m learning as I go. And maybe that’s exactly where God wants me, fully dependent on Him instead of myself. Waiting has taught me that not every door needs to be forced open. Not every question needs an immediate answer. Sometimes God is doing His greatest work in the preparation, long before I can see the outcome.

Learning that I will never have the ability to know everything has kept me humble, reminded me to listen, and shown me that I don’t have to carry this alone. The waiting seasons have taught me to seek wise counsel, pay attention, and trust God’s timing over my own.

Looking back, I can see that many of the things I once prayed would happen quickly required time to develop. I now use the waiting to grow. Growth does not only happen when I am moving. Most of the time, it happens while I am waiting, trusting, and learning to be faithful right where I am.

 

5. Joy Is New Every Morning

If you truly know me, you know I often wake up ready for the day, and most days I hop out of bed with excitement. I am eager to begin the moment my eyes open. On the rare occasions when the weight of caring for the team, the community, and my responsibilities feels heavy, I begin the day with a different posture, a sense of trepidation I cannot fully explain.

Regardless of what is happening around me, each day begins the same way. Before the sun comes up, I whisper, and sometimes plead, prayers to God asking for guidance, strength, and peace for whatever lies ahead. And every morning, without fail, He meets me with fresh mercy.

There is something steadying about that kind of faithfulness, but I must be intentional in cultivating my relationship with God to walk in that kind of trust. It reminds me that I am not walking into the day alone, and I am not carrying it by myself. His grace is new each morning, even when my emotions tell me otherwise.

At the end of the day, the only thing I truly fear is missing His will. Success, recognition, and accomplishments come and go, but they are not what anchor me.

Over time, my definition of success has changed. If the team is safe, supported, and thriving, and if the community feels cared for, I can rest knowing the day was a success.

 

6. Walk Alongside People

I have never viewed leadership as standing in front of people and telling them where to go. I firmly believe that I cannot lead well unless I have first learned to serve well.

For me, that begins with a daily choice in posture. Instead of assuming I know what someone needs, I try to approach people with humility, curiosity, and a willingness to listen. I have learned there is often more happening beneath the surface than what my eyes can see.

Leadership sometimes looks like paying attention to the small things. Are someone’s shoulders carrying more weight than usual? Is their smile not quite reaching their eyes? Is there a quietness where there is normally energy? Taking the time to notice people reminds me that everyone is fighting battles, carrying responsibilities, and navigating circumstances that may be invisible to those around them.

I believe in walking alongside others. We are a team, and every person brings unique gifts, challenges, and experiences to the journey. From this place, I aim to lead with grace, understanding, and compassion. My goal goes beyond helping people succeed at work; it is to support them as human beings.

People may forget what you did, but they will always remember how you made them feel. Every person should be seen, heard, and valued, not because of what they produce or accomplish, but because of who they are.

When people feel safe and supported, they are free to grow, thrive, and share their gifts with confidence. One of the greatest privileges of leadership is creating an environment where people can become the person God created them to be.

 

These six lessons are not the end of a story; they are part of an ongoing one.  I am still learning, still growing, and still being shaped.  Looking back, I can see grace in every season.  The Goochland Restaurant has been more than a place of work; it has been a place of formation.  I trust that the same God who has taught me these lessons will continue to lead me through the ones I have not yet learned.

7. Store the back of the house and the front of the house mops separately…

A look back at Goochland in the 1950s

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The Goochland Restaurant stands today as a familiar local dining spot, but its history dates back to the 1950s, when it was known as Joe’s and operated by Joe Lacy Sr.

Though I never knew him personally, community stories describe Joe’s as a small roadside diner where people could stop in for a hot meal during their day in Goochland.

Joe’s was connected to Joe Lacy’s hardware store, allowing customers to grab a meal while picking up supplies for their projects. This reflects how closely linked small local businesses often were in everyday community life. Lacy’s Hardware Store is still in operation today and continues to serve the Goochland community.

Although exact menu details are not documented, Joe’s would have reflected the offerings common in small roadside diners of the time, likely including familiar, everyday meals for local customers.

Over the years, the building and business evolved along with the community. Ownership and operations changed, and the site eventually became The Goochland Restaurant as we know it now under current ownership in 2022. The same building still stands today, connecting its present-day presence to its earlier history as Joe’s.

While its history reflects a different era, the restaurant today welcomes everyone and remains a place where people gather to enjoy a meal. Do you have a favorite memory of it when it was Joe’s?

black and white photo of joes restaurant before it became the goochland restaurant

Goochland Day

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Nestled in the heart of Goochland lies a district steeped in history and nostalgia. For many, including myself, this quaint Courthouse district is not merely a location but a repository of cherished memories. Despite having moved here just over two years ago, the ties that bind me to this enchanting locale transcend time, evoking the spirit of my childhood with each step I take along its sidewalks. As I meander through the familiar paths, memories rush forth – the echoes of laughter as I precariously balanced on the long brick wall in front of the courthouse, my hand firmly clasped by my beloved grandmama, Darden Marsh. Each step felt like a journey of a million miles, yet her reassuring presence always accompanied me. Amidst the everyday charm of the Courthouse district, one day shines above all others – Goochland Day. It was exciting to a child like me, a day when time seemed to pause, and the bustling streets transformed into a playground of wonder and delight, from the majestic procession of horses to the vibrant floats adorned with colorful banners that showered sweet treats to the awaiting crowd. I will never forget the small Shriners cars that would whirl around in circles. I sought refuge behind my towering papa, Walter Marsh, fearing the playful tiny vehicles might collide with me. Every sight and sound, even the scary, small cars, filled me with joy. Yet, Goochland Day was not only about the festivities; it was a celebration of generosity and camaraderie. Businesses opened their doors and made us feel genuinely cherished. We had many contests, and even the most unconventional contests, like cow patty throwing, fostered a sense of unity and laughter. The community’s ladies would display their favorite homemade goodies, and we would partake in a joyous cakewalk. I eagerly lined up with other children to have my face painted, and my excitement peaked as I watched Miss. Goochland stroll by in her splendid gown. Reflecting on these cherished memories, I realize that while Goochland Day may have evolved over the years, its essence remains unaltered. Though a hot air balloon may no longer adorn the courthouse lawn, and the faces in the crowd may have aged, the spirit of community and celebration perseveres, as vibrant and enduring as ever. In the heart of Goochland, amidst the whispers of history and children’s laughter, lies a timeless tradition that binds us together – Goochland Day. As I eagerly anticipate its arrival, I carry with me the echoes of my childhood, forever grateful for the memories this enchanting district has bestowed upon me.