Patty Daddies

For three restaurant dads, Hard Times Deli is a bet on something better

Photography by Michael Butler jr.

In the heart of the Edge District, between the Edge Motor Museum and what used to be Chef Tam’s Underground Cafe, a 4,000-square-foot structure has its giant windows covered in backdrop paper. The giant baby blue- and cream-colored logo looks like something fresh out of Thrasher magazine in the early aughts. It reads: Hard Times Delicatessen. 

I’m standing here, marveling at its size, with the three guys who, together, pulled this out of thin air—who birthed this forthcoming deli out of their own frustration. 

For years, Harry Downing, Cole Jeanes, and Schuyler O’Brien felt the unrelenting grind of restaurant work—a lifestyle that demanded long hours, missed holidays, and hardly existent personal lives.

“We were having problems,” Harry admits. “Overworked, underappreciated, and away from our families too much.” 

Call it punk, call it hubris, call it passion. They didn’t want to work for The Man, sacrificing their own happiness and relationships for someone else’s dream.

Together, they decided to build something different: a business where family wasn’t a casualty of ambition but its cornerstone.

Harry and Schuyler have been buds since middle school. After a while of “creepily watching Cole from afar,” Schuyler and Cole finally got breakfast and hit it off. 

“I knew this dude was f–ing awesome from the first time I ever met him,” Schuyler says. “And now we’re all boys for life.”

Since they started working together, the trio has accomplished quite a bit: an instant cult-classic smashburger pop-up called Secret Smash Society, a fancy private dinner for Outstanding in the Field, and winning the gold twice in the Home Place Pastures Hill Country Boucherie and Blues Picnic . Now, they’re getting stoked to open this brick-and-mortar deli.

Beyond cooking well together, the three have plenty in common. First and foremost, they all are husbands, and fathers of sons. It’s where the “Daddies” part of their nickname “Patty Daddies” comes from (the other half, you can guess, is from the smashburgers). Their kids were all born within a year of one another, and now they’re growing up together. Becoming fathers marked a turning point for each of them. Harry recalls how the birth of his son, Hudson, in 2022 changed his entire approach to life. 

“I was living recklessly, caught up in the fast-paced lifestyle of kitchens,” Harry says.

“But when Hudson was born, I knew I had to slow down. I had to be there for him, to teach him, to make sure he felt supported.”

For Schuyler, fatherhood was intertwined with a life-altering battle. Diagnosed with stage three cancer in 2022—when his son, Finley, was just two months old—he found himself staring at the fragility of time.

“It made me push harder, for my family and for myself,” he says. His eyes well up while we stand on the curb outside the deli, where we were, just a moment ago, imagining the people who will revel in food and drink at bistro tables out here.

Schuyler doesn’t even like talking about his battle with cancer because he doesn’t want it to define him. Cole and Harry encourage him to be open about it. He nods. He says the battle deepened his resolve to create a life where work didn’t rob him of precious moments with his wife, April, and their son.

“Something, like, really beautiful came out of something really f–ed up. And I just think about that a lot,” he says

The Patty Daddies’ experiences as fathers have forged a unique support system within their trifecta—something they want to extend to their future employees.

 “We talk as much about our kids as we do about food,” Harry says. Whether it’s covering a shift so one of them can make it to a soccer game or offering advice on parenting, their partnership is rooted in understanding and mutual respect.

We stand in the middle of the construction. The fine details are being carved on and tacked in. Every detail—from the hours of operation to the Corn Silk-colored tile—was poured over, considered carefully, and agreed upon. You can see it in their eyes when they look from wall to wall—they’re nearly as incredulous as I am. That their dream is coming to life in the middle of this room. That they designed their dream to prioritize what matters most. 

“We could be open seven days a week,” Cole explains. “But what’s the point if we’re missing the moments that truly count?” 

Sundays are reserved for family, and holidays are spent with loved ones—not on the line.

Even as they juggle the demands of launching a business, they are deliberate about maintaining balance. Cole recounts how Harry and Schuyler insist he take time to see his son, Luca, if a long morning at his restaurant, Kinfolk, keeps him away, even if it’s the same day as a Secret Smash Society service.

“We’ve already seen our kids today,” they’ll say. “Go home for a bit before the pop-up starts.”

This ethos extends to their vision for their whole team. They’ve experienced the toxic culture of brigade kitchens, like most of us in hospitality have. The difference is these guys are determined to do better. 

“I can’t imagine enjoying time with my family while forcing my staff to miss theirs,” Harry reflects. “That’s not what we’re about.”

Food, for them, is more than a profession—it’s how they connect with the people they love. Cole daydreams of regular Sunday suppers where he can sit down with his wife, Courtney, and their son—where they can break bread, talk about their lives. 

Harry’s fondest childhood memories are of his mother, who worked tirelessly but always made time for family dinners. “She showed me the power of sitting down together,” he says. “It’s something I want to give to my son.”

Even outside their homes, their love of food manifests in shared traditions, like Schuyler’s legendary eggnog party. What began as a small gathering in his tiny downtown apartment has snowballed into a mass-gathering, where a crowd of the people he loves wait patiently for him to dole out portions from his vat of homemade eggnog. It’s an annual celebration of good food, good drink, and good people. In other words, good hospitality.

“That eggnog party,” Harry says laughing, “is a testament to what we love most: bringing people together, making them feel cared for.”

The name of their new venture, Hard Times Deli, is ironic. These boys are all about bringing nothing but good. But, as the name suggests, there’s no such thing as free lunch.

Hard Times Deli is a reminder of the struggle. The grind. The life. The name, however, is not about hard times, but what comes out of them. It’s a middle finger to the endless toil for trickle-down wages, but a handshake with the riches of friends and family over cash. 

Harry, Cole, and Schuyler hope their children grow up seeing the value of what they’ve built—not just a business, but a bet on something better.

As Harry puts it, “Everything we’re doing is for them—our wives, our kids. That’s the legacy we want to leave.”

Hard Times Deli
655 Marshall Ave

Joshua Carlucci is a food writer and professional cook from rural Central California. He is a Memphis transplant by way of New Orleans and New York City. He has a BA in English from UC Berkeley, a culinary diploma from the Institute of Culinary Education, and is an MFA candidate in creative writing at the University of Memphis. @joshuadcarlucci

Michael Butler, Jr., loves everything Memphis. His goal is to show the beauty in Memphis that others overlook. He’s a photographer, videographer, Memphis tee collector, foodie, lover of tacos, and mayor of South Memphis. @_one901