Dear Feastlings,
Normal as things still aren’t, it’s good to feel like we’re heading in that direction. Shorthanded? But of course- we still scramble when someone calls in sick. But to be in the thick of it again and handle a busy night, even when we’re short-handed? It’s been a while since they’ve all coincided. Last night being a Tuesday, we didn’t expect much, but for some reason, well over a hundred people came in despite the fact that we started with only fifty or sixty reservations, and excluding a forgotten risotto or a misplaced duck, things went surprisingly well.
Upon emerging from the kitchen after a mad scramble to get everyone’s food out at once, I did what I always do when things are bumpy: I asked each server which of their guests I needed to apologize to in person. The past two years have felt like a nightly apology tour, thanking guests for their patience, apologizing for the wait, or the over- or undercooked dish, or the fact that someone sent it out without nuts or chilies of whatever it was missing. I’ve been getting my mea culpas in for a while now. More and more, though, what happened last night will happen: I’ll go from table to table offering up thank-yous and we’re-sorrys, only to be looked at quizzically by people who’ve actually enjoyed their meal.
I know we’re apt to make mistakes, more so in the past two years than since we first opened and the well-meaning kid I’d hired served a guest a coffee cup of lemonade, or the one a guest told she’d ordered one cookie and not two who responded by grabbing one of the cookies off the guest’s plate bare-handed. And I know that people aren’t inclined to tell me about our shortcomings until they get home and press the CAPS LOCK button on their keyboard to let the universe know how wronged they were. But I braced myself last night for an onslaught of disappointment and antipathy that never came.
I’ll take it. I’m grateful that although our current crew is in large part nearly as green as our opening crew twenty-three years ago, they show up, they care what they produce, and they take some pride in the thing we put together each day. Yes, I’m still waiting for the notification to come from Yelp or TripAdvisor to tell me that someone who didn’t want to complain to my face preferred to complain to the internet, but it’s rarely as bad or as often as I’d expect.
This may all change on Easter, a day notorious among restaurant folk for its siren’s song to the people who only eat out on Easter, Mother’s Day and Valentine’s Day, but we’ve put together an Easter menu
in hopes that it will draw you, our kind and caring supporters, rather than the random assortment of people who’ve wandering in expecting a buffet a bottomless breadstick basket. Fingers crossed. We are, as we have been, still mostly closed on Sundays, but we’d be foolish not to unlock the doors on Easter and hope for the best. Do give us a jingle if you’d like to join us, at (520) 326-9363.
Likewise, call if you’d like to skip the Easter festivities and come to Saturday’s end-of-the-month wine tasting instead, complete with food pairings.
You’re also welcome to call if you’d like to attend both. There’s ample room at this point, though that can change within minutes of sending out an email reminder like this one. Regardless of you choice, we look forward to welcoming you for whatever meal or event suits your fancy, and we thank you for it. And I’ll practice apologizing, just in case.
Love,
Doug