Why I do what I do: A Vagabond Story, continued.

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When I opened Vagabond Kitchen on June 8, 2014, we were in the basement of the now condemned McLure Hotel. The day before I had won my first Wheeling Feeling Chili Cook-Off, and we kicked the Kitchen off with a rockin’ brunch -- something we’re still known for to this day.

After all the attention that weekend, Monday’s breakfast was a surprising letdown, and I was introduced to the nature of business in  Downtown Wheeling: frenetic moments of crazy business followed by tumbleweeds.

As we got into the month, I realized something I’ve carried with me ever since: I could cook the most amazing food in the world, but it was all for naught if there was no one to eat it!

I was reminded of this sugar packet at the Reynolds Memorial Hospital Snack Bar. You see, after my third-grade year, my family moved from Limestone to Glen Dale. For years, I would meet up with friends and we would walk to Reynolds to hit up the gift shop for comic books and the snack bar for, well, snacks. Then we would walk over to the bowling alley and play video games. Then, to the Super America gas station, and finally through John Marshall and back home.

Well, at the snack bar they had these sugar packets with pithy sayings on them. I don’t remember what any of them said, save one. For some reason, I have no idea why, I can still see the back of the one that was titled, “Advertising,” and it said, “He who has a thing to sell / And goes to whisper in a well / Is not so apt to get the dollar / As he who climbs a tree and hollers.”

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As I was pondering payroll and food bills and utilities in the Summer of ‘14, that sugar packet came back to me, and I realized that I could teach someone else to cook the way I wanted them to cook but no one could represent my business like I could. As I learned more and enrolled in business courses, I learned it’s also referred to as “working on your business, instead of in your business.”

So I took off my apron, and I started promoting and networking. I did ALL the things. I went everywhere. I talked about Vagabond Kitchen until I was blue in the face, and I said “Yes!” to everything. Which was great, for a while. But it quickly became overwhelming.

After several years, I was completely burnt out, but I couldn’t stop. The restaurant was by no means able to sustain itself, and I felt like I absolutely had to keep pushing. As I began saying no to some things, better things took their place. I found myself saying yes just as often, but the yes’s were to greater and greater opportunities.

Then in 2017, I was asked to be on Guy’s Grocery Games. To be completely honest, I didn’t want to do it. I’m not actually comfortable in the spotlight. I would prefer to just put my head down and cook. But how could I pass up the opportunity? I went on the show to represent myself and my business, sure, but I saw myself as representing Wheeling and West Virginia, and I was never more proud than when I saw “West Virginia VS West Coast” on the show when it aired.

I’m still feeling the support garnered from that one moment, and I’ve been flattered to realize how important feeling represented is to folks.

Beyond simply representing it’s about telling a story. Our story. I’ve always been a lover of stories and I’ve always wanted to tell them. I’ve told my stories through words and pictures and now, I tell them through my food. What I love about telling stories through food, is they’re very easy to hear. Everyone loves good food, and everyone deserves to eat good food.

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I see myself as a culinary anthropologist, and the stories I tell through my food aren’t just my stories. They’re our stories. And they deserve to be told. And they deserve to be heard.

Getting our stories heard became the crux. How? Day-to-day business was not enough. I thought about something I said once when I was just traveling and journaling, “If I see the most beautiful sunset in the world and it dies with me, what’s the point? If I can share that experience with other people and they can enjoy it through my words and photos, it can live on.” That experience can become the initial splash that resonates out through the entire pond until it reaches the shore and riffles back.

In this day and age, the king of telling your story is social media. So I leverage social media as best as possible to tell my story and my version of Appalachia’s story. Things really came to a head a few years ago when I launched my YouTube channel. Through the videos on the YouTube channel, I can show people what I’m doing and talk about why I’m doing it, and hopefully, they love it and want to get involved.

It’s uncomfortable for me to be running around the state yelling “Look at me!” but this is the world we live in. Your attention is currency, and I’m trying to get as much of it as I can for one purpose and one purpose only -- so people will listen. It’s not my favorite thing, however, it’s a skill I’ve been cultivating with careful intention.

If I wanted to “make money” with a restaurant in Wheeling, I’d be a diner. I’d sell the cheapest quality goods I could at the best price. I wouldn’t challenge our guests. I wouldn’t develop curated dishes rooted in our heritage. I’d be a “turn and burn,” and work on volume. I’d have TVs with sports on and buckets of beer and dozens of fried apps.

There’s nothing wrong with any of that, but do we really need another freezer-to-frier restaurant in the world, or even the Ohio Valley? I don’t think so.

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Not to mention, I’d jump off the Suspension Bridge. There’s no heart in soul in that food, and I can’t do it.

But, folks, to do the food I do want to do, I’ve got to capture that attention. I’ve got to tell those stories. I’ve got to monkey in front of cameras and participate in internet popularity contests and yell “Look at me!” Because what I’m really saying is “Look at us!”

We’ve been ignored for far too long. We have great stories, a wonderful culture, a rich heritage, and I for one will not let it be murdered by chain restaurant garbage and substandard frozen food.

So, I’ll do things I hate -- and I’ll learn to love them -- because I love the reasons why I do them more than the things themselves. And the more support I get, the more good I can do. It’s that simple. Supporting me and Vagabond Kitchen lets me support you. 

Together we lift each other up. Together we reach for more.

-- Chef Matt