For the last three and a half years when I went to work I would enter through the service door in the alley. It was the back door to the kitchen through which we received all our deliveries and it looked the part. It was a plain grey steal door with “bleu” stenciled in our familiar Century Gothic font at the top and “29 S 8th St.” underneath. I saw that door almost every single day; most days I walked through it much more than once. I have fixed the latch on that door. I have repaired the alarm system sensor on that door. Walking into Bleu through the back door was a ritual, a stable, constant part of my life. I would always see the kitchen staff first, starting with prep, then saute, then grill, then Chef expediting orders. Next I would be in the server station where I would pour myself a coffee and look over that night’s menu, check the 86 board, and finally enter the dining room.

The last time I walked through that door when Bleu was still open at our old location I took a photo of it because I knew that it was all soon to be a memory. Less than two hours later the word “bleu,” in all of its Century Gothic glory, was scraped off of that door. I felt as though a bit of me had been scraped off of the world. Quite a bit has changed since then; and its only been a few weeks.

Moving a Restaurant is a strange experience, especially when one has so much of one’s life invested in it, not just as a business but as a family, a rally point, a social circle, a place to go when you have no other place to go. Bleu has been all of that to all of her employees, and the last few weeks have been filled not only with the hard work of moving, but also filled with emotion both expressed and unspoken. About three weeks ago I arrived at work to find the service door in our alley at 811 E Walnut had been fitted with the “bleu” logo. This one even fancier than the original (same cool font). I smiled ear to ear. Its like when you have the phone and cable turned on at your new house or apartment. This was now home. After weeks I now had a home again. We all did.

Since then, with reinvigorated spirit, I have worked alongside the Bleu staff, both new and old, to make 811 E Walnut our home. Slowly but surely, and in fact much more quickly than I imagined, the space started to transform into what it is we think of as Bleu. Aspects of the spot we’ve replaced poke through, but not out of defiance, out of homage. The bar and kitchen are once again up and running. The wine/beer/cocktail list is updated and improved. The new menu is out and is being prepared daily.

Bleu regulars and new guests alike ask “is it still going to be the Bleu menu?” The answer is yes. We are going to continue to innovate, invent, play, and put out amazing food the way we have been for the last three and a half years. “Is it still going to be the same service?” Yes, of course. “The same specialty drinks?” Yes, and more so. Bleu has always been a work in progress. If we are still open twenty years from now it will be because even then we will consider ourselves a work in progress. Our former location, the last few years, everything we have already done is only the introduction. It has merely set the stage for what I hope is a very long, very beautiful story. Our second grand opening is only days away. What is past is simply prologue.