They weren't asked to work closely with an architect on design and lighting and to choose beautiful but affordable building materials or shepherd the construction along, sticking closely to a budget and managing costs at each turn. They were spared the task of raising capital, the skittish eye of investors and the reams of paperwork -- permits and licenses -- opening a restaurant demands. They didn't have to design a kitchen that promoted efficiency and communication while cleaving to exacting standards of safety and ventilation. They didn't have to navigate the unions and health codes, or hire cooks and teach them to execute food exactly as they would. They didn't have to interview dozens of front-of-the-house staff and train them for weeks to convey the type of hospitality that seems effortless but requires hard work and deep commitment to getting it right. They didn't have to develop relationships with farmers, fishermen and producers to get artisan ingredients that are only obtainable in small quantities. They didn't have to work out the timing of dozens of dishes and then plot out the nightly choreography that allows a table with a well-done order of beef to touch down at the same instant as a rare tuna, to repeat a variation of that ballet for dozens of other diners, to pair wines perfectly to each, and make sure guests feel nurtured, not intruded upon. They didn't have to design menus and stationary and matchbooks that elegantly convey the restaurant's mission, design computerized ordering systems, or manage the press that inevitably accompanies the opening of a restaurant.
And they didn't have to do it from dawn -- when the first farmer's truck rolls up and stocks must be started -- until the last guest leaves late at night, and all over again every day of the week.