Day 8

8 – Decembre – 2008
Day 8
Ok, so I’m switching up the format on you. For the first few days, I had been heading back to the apartment during siesta, but that is no longer the case, so from here on out, I’ll be writing to you on the time period from afternoon to afternoon, instead of each individual day. That was becoming too difficult, and as I start to partake in the social life here after work, it’s challenging to organize a day’s thoughts and events. Today, as you read, begins yesterday, with dinner service and finishes with today’s lunch service, and anything that comes between.
Service started slowly, in a similar fashion as earlier in the week, and at about 8:15 we were preparing to shut it down for the night. I would have been completely content with that, as I was completely exhausted, and a slow night does nothing to stimulate, inspire or produce adrenaline for energy. I was ready to sleep, and then we sat a 7 top, followed by a 3 top. As we’re preparing to close, at just about 9 o’clock, Eris enters the kitchen, groans a very perturbed Italian correspondence to Kevin and returns to the dining room. I give Kevin the curious eye-ball and he lets me in on the news, the town drunkard has stumbled in and he routinely sits, regardless of the time or the state of affairs in the restaurant, for well over 2 hours. He’s with a date, they order 3 courses, and enjoy themselves for 2 and-a-half hours, at the expense of our patience and required hospitality. So be it, we had settled in, and were at least emotionally prepared for his encumbering nature. We were cleaned and changed well before he chose to end his stay, so by the time I arrived home, I was already half asleep.
I woke up in a state of anger that I have no explanation for. I was FURIOUS, a series of dreams last night produced a feeling of curious rage that coursed through me for the first hour or so of the morning. I’m not entirely sure how to explain the root of it. Certainly I’m under stress, I have been experiencing the full scope of emotion yet have felt, more or less, in tune with myself the entire time. Other than the need for companionship, which is becoming less and less of a factor, as Kevin is a good guy, and we’re building a reasonable friendship based on the circumstances here, I am not angry. It spoiled my rest, I did not rise from my bed in a relaxed manner, I shot up, looked at my alarm clock and was fuming at having awoken seconds before it was to sound its alarm. I instantly questioned my state of mind, briefly analyzed the subconscious stream of thoughts from the night, and decided that this, although concerning, state of being was an anomaly to be attributed to the transition. I don’t have a reference point for this sort of lifestyle adjustment, therefore, I will only continue to worry if it persists.
My distraction is work, and today there is plenty to be done. With a private party of 60, scheduled for 4 courses, as well as a la carte service simultaneously, this was the most intensive morning thus far. I was hurried through every plate and process I had been assigned to, and it was a relief. Through this rush, while being exhausted from the restless sleep, of course, I felt an emotional connection to the food being served for the first time here. It wasn’t like having been a part of the dinner crew on the first night at Castle Hill, where I was on the line, and I was side by side with Gomez, taking mental notes of each of his movements. Every plate there I grasped and appreciated, here took some time. I don’t know if it’s because of Chef Lorenzo, Kevin, the food itself or whether I am truly passionate about the work I’m doing, but this morning alleviated much of the concern I had been feeling about this apprenticeship.
Tomorrow is a day off as the restaurant is closed for renovations. They’re adding more equipment for prep and the Art Institute is sending students here for classes starting in January. Lorenzo encouraged me to take it off, even though I would be happy to come in and see what work goes into restaurant renovation and construction (or reconstruction for that matter). I’ll likely just sleep in a little later and find myself in the dining room to watch and lend a hand if it’s needed. My first day off… no idea what to do, we shall see though!

Dinner was spectacular. We sit, the only guests in a three tiered dining room, which any modern city would try to emulate, the minimal décor melding with the ancient structure formed a congruence that NYC designers would drool over. Two floors, dedicated to the a la carte kitchen, and the third, a special event floor, that, in my opinion could comfortably accommodate 100 people. The menu is a blend of traditional and modern foods that compliment the style of the dining room, and clearly the chef. He introduced himself to us, and explained the menu, in detail (in Italian, but I caught the majority of it), but you should try to think of the last time an American chef took himself onto the floor to verbally delineate each of his creations. Better yet, try to find an American chef who stays in the restaurant for a party of 5, instead of calling it an early night and heading to the bar for a drink. It is a customary sequence to order Antipasto, Pasta, Carne and finally Dolce. I ordered a Truffle Flan with a parmesan crisp and a spinach puree, then Ravioli stuffed with potato and pancetta in “pomodoro salsa fresco”(pan sauce made from quartered cherry tomatoes). Following that I may have had the best pork I’ve ever eaten. A beautifully seared saddle (yes, with the rind still on, crispy and fatty and oh-so-delicious), which was accompanied by a braised cabbage and a few hard fought tears of joy was my meat course. One last course, and after 5 bottles of wine between the 5 of us, throughout the evening, I was in trouble. Once again the chef appears, and we sing him our praises, while he promptly discusses his dessert finishers. I did, ashamedly, try to pass, but in his best English and a genuine smile, he explains perhaps something light like a Limoncello Gelato would fill the final space in my already bloated gut. I couldn’t say no, a creamy, citrusy, tart and sweet champagne flute filled with house made ice cream was, in fact a delightful complimentary end to my first full Italian meal. I hope I’ve been able to explain it so that you can grasp my enjoyment, but you truly need to sit here and enjoy yourselves first hand, I think I may be in need of repeating that over and over here for the next few months.

Go Slow. Stay Local.
Va Piano. Rimane Locale.