It really is a simple dream. One where I walk in to a restaurant in Italy; where the staff great me as a returning friend – one of the family, even.
I opened a window on to that dream tonight. Where a friend, mio amico, took us to a restaurant in England. Where the staff treated him like a prodigal son. Where cheeks were kisses, hands pointed to waist, to chest – above head – signifying how much he has grown.
We were dined, wined – I got to drink Amaro Montenegro. This was my dream; this was his life.
Dining with friends – with family – where the people who serve you, care about you. This is what food is about. This is what eating out, really is all about. I may never get to experience my dream, but I will, with a grazie here or prego there, have another night, many nights, surrounded by friends like this.
Go often enough and Lauren and Harry will see the same staff, enjoy thy same quality of food – experience the same hand to height gestures as my friend did tonight.
With good manners, enough time and the right kind of food – my dream will become their reality.