Foothills Cafe embraces family at the foot of the hill
Photo features Foothills owner Shari
By Abigail Webster
Sun contributor
When I was a young girl, my father and I would get breakfast some mornings at The Foothills Cafe. It was a special thing we would do. My father and I have polar opposite interests so he made it important we find things to do just the two of us. I always remember those trips fondly. And that includes the good food. We hadn’t been in some years, so I wanted to go and see how the place was doing.
I walked into The Foothills Cafe on a rainy morning. The clouds were gray and heavy. The air felt thick and cold. When I walked in, I was greeted by the smell of a warm breakfast and the sound of ’80s music from the kitchen. The Cafe was empty except for the staff. I was the only customer at the time.
As I was waiting for my food, a little boy sat in the chair next to me. He had a bowl of dipping dots he was eating. He started talking to me about random things. Little boy things. The rain still pounded on the window. But our conversation made me forget about it.
I looked around the cafe. The place I knew when I was a child. It was mostly the same: the light green walls with white trim, and the red door frame. One new thing was some photos on the wall. There was one of a man sitting in a chair. And another looking the same. The two men used to be regulars at Foothills Cafe. They have now passed away.
Shari, the owner who took over full control of the Foothills early this year, knew them. She even told me what their orders were.
“That right there was his seat. He came in and he got his eggs, hash browns, and toast. He did the New York Times crossword puzzle. And the first time I sat down with him after we purchased the place, he probably became one of my best friends.”
Now, I am not sure in the little time the boy and I talked we became best friends. But he was a nice kid.
My food arrived and I ordered what is called “Littlefoot.” It’s two eggs, hash browns, sausage, toast, and bacon. A delectable spread. The boy had since moved on to helping one of the staff members wrap cutlery in napkins. He got such a joy out of it and the staff seemed to enjoy helping him and teaching him how to do it. The food was delicious. The perfect contrast to a rainy morning. The energy of the place certainly helped.
I listened to the kitchen and there were people in there shouting at each other. They sounded like two men were in the kitchen arguing—over music. One of the cooks, who is the young boy’s father, was playing some eighties pop music. And they talked about how I would not like it so much cause it’s old music. They are insanely wrong about that.
“You like this music, right?” One of the cooks called from the kitchen. He was playing some upbeat, techno-rave music. “Oh yeah, I do!” I said and the two of us started dancing together. This wasn’t the type of music I would normally listen to, but how the cook and I danced and enjoyed ourselves made it sound golden.
Perhaps it was the family aspect that made the place feel the way it did. The staff certainly think so. I talked with Hannah, who is one of them.
“It’s just fun. It’s just a huge family so it’s easy to crack jokes and stuff like that it’s easy to have fun. You always have an opinion on things, there’s no judgment, so it’s very comfortable to work here.”
I suspected that the owner likely started this environment and made it how it is today. As well as owning Foothills Cafe, Shari is also a mental health counselor and still meets with people while working. Two years ago the Foothills placed a “Harm Reduction” Naloxone box outside in front of its door—to help save the life of someone suffering a drug overdose.
When you talk to her you just have this feeling of safety. Shari has brought her daughter to work there. Her son-in-law is one of the cooks and the boy is her grandson. Her son even comes to help fix things sometimes. It’s all very together. And they remember people. Which makes coming back a joy. That energy is felt by everyone.
It was that warm memory that made me want to return to the cafe years later. The place my father and I still talk about. The people who come often are remembered and loved. And the staff as well. They created a family by being together. You don’t need to be related to feel loved at the Foothills Cafe.
