You probably think you helped run a club.
You did a lot more than that.
Menus. Systems. POS setups. Re-openings. Projects that probably should not have required the number of hours they did. And somehow, we kept deciding to build more.
Hours and hours spent rebuilding, solving, testing and making sure the operation could actually function. The POS systems, the details, the things nobody notices when they work — and everybody notices when they don't.
That project was one of the moments where it felt like we stopped simply working near each other and started building things together.
It wasn't just reopening a room. It became a place where we could try things, adjust things, make things better, and keep pushing what the Tap Room could be.
You were always willing to taste, try, adjust, rethink and try again. When that support wasn't always present inside my direct department, you stepped into the gap without ever making it feel like you were doing me a favor.
My menus are not where they are today without you.
We built systems because we needed them. Then we kept making them better because apparently neither of us knows how to leave well enough alone.
Somewhere along the way you rebuilt your cycling maps, training, food and nutrition systems and may have actually become better at this than me — which is annoying.
There was apparently no hour too late for a Val notification.
YES, INCLUDING 3:00 AMYou never missed an opportunity to remind me that I suck and my food sucks.
EXTREMELY SUPPORTIVE LEADERSHIPYou slept on an air mattress on top of a table in the boardroom during a snow-and-ice storm.
THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENEDYou tried an unreasonable amount of bad food so the good food could get better.
THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICEYou let me take over ideas that were originally yours — and somehow seemed genuinely happy when I ran with them.
ZERO EGO REQUIREDYou are abandoning us for Florida.
STILL NOT OVER ITFood. Wine. Service. Operations. You have an incredible depth of knowledge, but what impressed me even more was that you never needed to use it to make anyone else feel small.
You could tell me exactly what you thought about a dish, a menu, an idea or a decision. You were honest — sometimes brutally honest — but somehow the conversation still left me wanting to make the thing better instead of wanting to stop trying.
You showed up. You tasted. You looked. You asked questions. You gave feedback. You made time. Whether you knew it or not, you made sure I felt seen and supported.
You were creative and open to ideas, and you never seemed threatened when somebody else picked up one of yours and ran with it. You made ownership feel like trust, not territory.
You are compassionate in a way that never feels performative. The standard matters. The work matters. But the person doing it matters too.
When I think about what kind of leader I hope to become, I think about you. Not because I want to copy you, but because you showed me what it feels like to be led well.
There are tangible things you helped build here: systems, projects, menus, processes, a re-opened Tap Room, and probably several things neither of us remembers starting.
But the part that matters most to me isn't any of those things.
You showed me what support from a leader actually feels like.
You made me feel like my ideas were worth hearing. You pushed me without making me feel small. You gave me honest feedback without taking away the joy of creating. And during times when I didn't always feel that support from the people closest to my department, you made sure I still knew the work mattered.
So when I get the chance to lead someone else well — to make them feel seen, to give them room to create, to tell them the truth and still make sure they know I'm in their corner — there will be some of you in that.
That's what you built.
Two small contributions toward whatever ridiculous thing you decide to build next.
For the next system, map, training plan, menu, nutrition tracker, or completely unnecessary optimization.
Because one gift card was obviously not enough to fund your descent into becoming better at this than me.
I'm thrilled for you. Truly. Isleworth is getting an incredible leader, and you deserve the opportunity.
I'm also devastated that you're leaving.
Both of those things are true.
I don't know if I've ever been able to fully explain how much your support has meant to me. You were there for the menus, the tastings, the ideas, the projects, the outages, the reopening, the late-night messages and every absurd thing we somehow decided needed to become a system.
But more than any project, you made me feel seen.
You believed in my ideas. You gave me honest feedback. You challenged me without taking the confidence out of me. You made time. You cared. And you supported me during moments when I needed it more than you probably realized.
My food is better because of you. My menus are better because of you. The way I think about leadership is better because of you.
There is a very real part of the chef and leader I am becoming that exists because I got to work with you.
I hope one day the people I lead feel as supported by me as you made me feel. If they do, I'll know I'm doing something right.
No one has supported me better.
Thank you for everything — and yes, you still suck for abandoning us.
— Val