Amy Lu's View

On an unseasonably warm Sunday afternoon in early November, I had my last sticky bun at Smith and Porter, one of our favorite local restaurants/bars. (Yes, we were enjoying our Biden/Harris election victory drinks and sticky buns outside on their patio for COVID safety). 

I didn’t realize then I was having my last Smith and Porter sticky bun. That’s the way it usually is with “lasts”–we don’t know the end is coming or that things are going to change until after it happens and we’re looking back.

Recently we learned that Smith and Porter closed permanently.

Damn.

I’m not a good enough writer to accurately describe these sticky buns or what made them so wondrous. Certainly part of the attraction is that they were vegetarian. I most loved the amazing texture of the buns, but words escape me…were they Gooey? Fluffy? Spongy? The buns were filled with a cauliflower mixture that was just the right balance of spicy, sweet and tangy. (There’s the extent of my career as a food blogger).

We’re saddened not just, or even primarily, by the loss of the sticky buns, or even the smoked Old Fashioneds, we would order there. We’re missing a space we could go and unwind and reconnect (they were right by Chad’s office and StanLee’s doggy daycare so super convenient location for us). We’re missing the chance to connect with the staff who knew us as regulars and the other patrons. (And of course the closure is a huge loss for the staff and we hope they’re okay).

People have lost so much during this Pandemic–everything from loved ones to jobs. So many restaurants, bars and music venues have closed. I’m so fortunate that some of the most significant losses for me have only been the ability to order sticky buns and to wear my pre-pandemic pants.

While we are so blessed not to have experienced any big losses, it does seem right to pause and acknowledge our small ones. 

Yes, we can probably find another place that makes good sticky buns. We will certainly find another place where we like to drink.

But I would like to have as a takeaway from all these losses–big and small–to more fully appreciate what I have now. To appreciate every metaphorical sticky bun as the last. Not to encourage morbidity or hedonism–Not “Extra sticky buns and a double shot!” (well, okay, sometimes that)–but to encourage presence and gratitude.

Ideally, realizing any sticky bun could be my last will lead to paying attention to said sticky bun and the people who create and serve them.

I’m certainly not the first person to espouse the nugget of wisdom that “You don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone.” From a quick Googling it may indeed have been Joni Mitchell in “Big Yellow Taxi” who expressed the sentiment with those exact words, but I’m sure humans have wrestled through the ages with how to really appreciate the transient joys of life. 

While I’m inspired by the idea of the Last Sticky Bun to be more intentional about fully embracing life, I think it’s more than likely I will continue to take delights–both big and small–for granted. 

Still, I’m going to try. 

And I’m going to fondly recall those sticky buns of yore. I’ll savor every delicious memory of them, as well as all the good times and good conversations, and even just okay times we had at Smith and Porter. Thank you, Smith and Porter for your sticky buns, and the whole lovely milieu you created for them. 

Here’s to you, bygone sticky buns. I’ll raise a glass (likely repeatedly and not metaphorically) to you and in hopes of discovering and appreciating “sticky buns” (perhaps metaphorical) of the future.