Dishing up a downer

“Oh no!’’ she gasped, turning to walk away with an aggrieved look. “I came just for this, just for a rice ball.’’

It’s a scene that played out in front of darkened establishments across the city this week: Hungry customers, some of them regulars, some of them once-in-awhile indulgers, found their plans tweaked by signs reminding them that restaurant and cafe owners - especially at small, family-run places - sometimes take vacations, too.

In the South End, visitors to Flour Bakery + Cafe discovered that it was closed from the 4th through the 10th, reopening today. “It’s like a hole in the fabric,’’ said Jane Brayton, a local artist who had set off with her husband for their customary Washington Street walk and breakfast at Flour’s communal table.

While Brayton described their routine - sipping coffee and trading conversation with the regulars; vying with her husband over who gets the section of the newspaper with the crossword and Sudoku first - a succession of people strode up to Flour and stopped short at the door: a guy with a messenger bag and headphones; a woman in heels, her hair still wet from the shower; two men dressed for work, BlackBerrys on their belts.

“This is terrible,’’ one said. “Where are we supposed to get our sticky buns from?’’ another asked.

Around the corner on Columbus, a sign on the door of the 82-year-old Charlie’s Sandwich Shoppe said it was closed until July 13. A message board near the window showed pictures of Paris; the note read, “Going to France.’’

Steve Kendig scanned the sign, peered at the 13 empty, vinyl-topped counter stools, and shrugged. A mason from Billerica, he eats at Charlie’s whenever he works in the South End; now he would need to find eggs elsewhere. “It’s a good place,’’ he said, a little wistful. “They deserve a vacation.’’

If not exactly widespread, the Independence Day restaurant vacation - closed a few days ahead of July 4 or a few days after or sometimes both - is more than a rarity: Vee Vee in Jamaica Plain, Brown Sugar on Commonwealth Avenue, Esperia Grill in Brighton. In the suburbs, the Arlington Restaurant and Diner, Belmont’s Shangri-la, and Rossi’s in Millis were all on hiatus.

Downtown, Silvertone was shuttered, and those set on the Good Life were led elsewhere until July 13. Across the river in Cambridge, Hungry Mother filled no plates, and Mr. Bartley’s Gourmet Burgers was closed, too. The sign said Bartley was writing his memoir. Working title? “I Did It My Way (Medium Rare).’’

Foodies can keep tabs on what is open and closed on websites such as Chowhound and BostonZest. While some restaurants went completely dark, other owners used the time to renovate while giving employees a break. That was the case at Flour, where owner and pastry chef Joanne Chang uses the annual week to polish the floors, paint the walls, and take apart the restaurant for a “deep clean.’’

Chang, who posted updates about the renovations on her Twitter feed, sounded pained about turning away patrons - some of whom did not notice the multiple “closed for repairs’’ signs outside and walked right in among the dropcloths to place their orders.

“The painter yesterday was like, ‘Do I even look like I know how to make a latte?’ ’’ Chang said, recalling the exchange.

Chang herself kept Flour’s second location in Fort Point open for all but the 4th and worked that holiday at Myers + Chang, the restaurant she owns with her husband. The couple, however, did give themselves Sunday and Monday off.

“It’s a service business, so the times when most of the world is relaxing and hanging out with friends is when we’re on,’’ she said.

In Harvard Square, the original Mr. Bartley eschewed vacation. But about a dozen years ago, the venerable burger cottage began closing around major holidays, after one of his five children took over as general manager.

“It’s the only way we can spend time with our family. It’s important to our staff, and it’s a huge perk for the people who work here,’’ said Billy Bartley, calling holiday leave an important ingredient in preparing and serving a good burger - and a benefit of being around 49 years. “The first generation, you can’t afford to close.’’

Approaching 79, Joe Bartley still works regularly, though his son Billy, the general manager, waits until he leaves to post the playful vacation signs about his father’s whereabouts. Contrary to what the note said this year, there is no memoir in the works. Nor has Mr. Bartley ever gone hang gliding or renewed his vows with Mrs. Bartley on a mountaintop - although the latter message earned the old-school Bartley weeks of compliments about his romantic side.

Some of Bartley’s fans now stop by the restaurant specifically when it’s closed to read the signs, “which is the stupidest thing in the world if you’re a manager of a business, but I love it,’’ said Billy Bartley, who spent part of the latest break on a busman’s holiday, working the grill July 4 at his home in Reading for a family party. The gang was all there, except Mr. Bartley.

“It might have been a form of protest,’’ Billy Bartley said.