More Than a Café: The Legacy of Penny Rodriguez and Her Pismo Beach Dream
My story began in 1989. I was working a regular shift at a restaurant in Arroyo Grande, California — just another day, or so I thought. That afternoon, a former boss walked into my workplace with a proposition that would change my life. He had recently purchased a small café in Pismo Beach and asked if I’d be willing to come take a look.
He grabbed a napkin, scribbled down an address — 1053 Price Street — and told me to stop by after my shift. At the time, my husband and I had only one car, so when he came to pick me up, we headed straight to Pismo. I’ll never forget that moment walking through the doors of that little café. My heart dropped. It felt like home — small, cozy, and full of character. Right then and there, I knew I was quitting Cliffs Restaurant. Six days later, I started my new journey.
In 2002, after years of serving as a waitress and loving every second of it, the café came up for sale. A customer who knew how much I cared about the place begged me to buy it. The idea terrified me. I lacked the confidence. I had been in the service industry since 1980, but owning a café? That felt like a leap too far.
My husband, though, believed in me more than I believed in myself. We put in an offer — and in a beautiful twist of fate, the landlord was the same man from 1989: Tom Geordes. He remembered me. He remembered a difficult time in my life. And even though there were four other offers on the table, Tom chose us.
At the time, the owner was struggling financially. I didn’t want to leave the café, so I agreed to work for tips only for an entire year. That’s how deeply rooted my connection to this little gem was. Tom passed away in 1999, and I miss him terribly. From the very beginning, he was my biggest fan. Without him, my dream would have never come true.
Fuelled by Community
What drives me every day is simple: my customers. I aim to deliver consistent, quality food paired with genuine, warm service. We are far from perfect, but I try to teach my team the importance of each patron who walks through our doors. Social media has made face-to-face connection harder in recent years, but I’ve worked to use it as a positive tool to uplift, not diminish, the in-person experiences that make restaurants special.
Lessons in Leadership
My leadership style has evolved over the years. I don’t have managers or other owners — it’s just me and my husband. In my experience, when too much power is given away, it can affect team morale. I’ve seen it firsthand in past jobs. While it’s not easy carrying everything on my shoulders, I started this way, and I intend to finish this way.
Have I made mistakes? More than I can count. In the early days, I worked the floor seven days a week, and I truly loved that chapter of my life. The relationships and friendships that grew from that time are irreplaceable gifts.
But I’ve also learned the hard way not to take things personally. I’ve been hurt by employees I thought would stay with me forever. I’ve cried more tears than I care to admit. As an owner, you must learn to separate the personal from the professional — be honest, be upfront, and instill those same values in your team.
Even now, I don’t sleep well. My mind never stops. Running a café is a 24/7 job, and truthfully, I’m still not ready to step away from it.
The Final Chapter
I’m 61 years old now. I jokingly say that I’m the “garnish” and my crew is the “main course.” I love people. I love seeing the same families visit us year after year — but with that consistency comes heartache. I’ve attended more memorials than I can count, and the loss of longtime patrons has taken a toll.
Still, I know retirement is approaching. My husband is ready, but I’m not quite there yet. I want to leave on my terms. I started with five employees; now we’re seventeen strong. We survived the 2007 recession and the challenges of COVID-19 — two of the hardest periods in my professional life. But we made it through. Survival is the key word.
In the restaurant world, traditional diners are fading fast. People want quick, walk-up food now. But I’ve stayed true to what I love: connection, service, and community.
Family, Fundraising & the Future
All three of my children have worked with me. My oldest son, Ryan, worked the longest and is now with a major restaurant group in Oregon. Derek still works with us. Cheyenne, my youngest, didn’t love the industry — so she joined the Navy, and she’s thriving. I’m also a proud grandmother of three beautiful grandchildren: Noah, Cody, and Amelia.
These are the reasons I feel retirement coming closer, but for now, I’m cherishing this last chapter.
Over the years, we’ve raised more than $80,000 for the Jaqualyn Palchak Fund, a local nonprofit. Every October since 2007, I’ve organized fundraisers — supporting causes like Alzheimer’s, Meals on Wheels, Hospice, ALS, the Food Bank, and, most recently, raising $6,000 for a 4-year-old child battling a rare cancer.
I don’t know what my legacy will be. But I do know I love Pismo Beach and its people. This community has embraced me and allowed me to serve them for 23 unforgettable years. For that, I am forever grateful.
A Poignant Memory
I’ll never forget the day I thought it was all over. The former owner had decided to shut down the café, and I rushed to the building in hopes of salvaging a photo album filled with our memories. But she had already taken it.
I walked from the back of the café to the front and felt an overwhelming sadness. I knew this was the end of The All-American Café. I sat at the counter and broke down. Then, I reached into my purse, pulled out the café keys, placed them at the end of the counter, and walked out of the front door — the same one I now proudly own.
When my final day comes, I want to walk out of that same door — but this time with joy, on my own terms, knowing I gave it everything I had. I hope Penny’s All American Café has made a small impact on the hearts of those who visited. It will live on forever in mine.
