While sitting in the passenger seat of Matt’s car, leaning back in the seat to make my distended stomach a little more comfortable, contentedly watching the setting sun cast a low light over the passing vineyards, Mt. Tam and an occasional used car dealership, Steph leaned up and whispered in my ear, "you should write about this." And so I shall. We had just had one of those meals. One of those meals that you expect to remember for years. One of those meals that you wish all meals could be like, but never are. Though, I suppose if they were, meals like this wouldn’t be quite so special.
At 3:45 on Sunday, I arrived at my former boss, Matt Straus’, house, needing to be there so early because we had a 5:30 reservation at a restaurant that was an hour and a half away. One of Matt’s favorite things to do is to leave the city and drive a long way for a meal. He says it somehow makes the experience more romantic. And I have to say, as we crossed over the always awe-inspiring Golden Gate Bridge, I was inclined to agree.
In the car was Matt, Steph, Myself, and my little sister, Lauren. The four of us were going out to one final meal before I was to leave San Francisco for seven months, en route to world exploration. Among other things, on the way we discussed a question that people in the restaurant industry are often asked, and more often than not, brush off as impossible to answer. What were the best meals we’d ever had?
I remembered a few meals in New York with my father; at Per Se, at Café Boulud, and at Gramercy Tavern, that were absolutely out of this world. Every single thing about those meals was perfect; from the timing, to the flavors, to the wine pairings. I have gone out to so many meals in my life expecting perfection, or at least as close to it as humanly possible, and been sorely disappointed. Matt didn’t recall so many meals as he did bottles of really amazing wine. Typical. Both of us, however, noted that often a meal isn’t made unforgettable by something tangible. More than anything I remember the feeling of eating next to my Dad, learning about him, explaining things about the food to him, and feeling proud when he was impressed by my food knowledge, since I had always considered him one of the smartest people I knew. Those experiences made me feel comforted, respected and loved. Things that are hard to find wrapped up into a dinner.
At 5:45 we pulled into the town of Healdsburg. The town, through being a little on the bourgy side, is quite charming. Most of the businesses line the town square, and the restaurant we were visiting was not an exception. Scopa, a very small and lively wood-oven pizza place with a smattering of salads and pastas was a welcomed sight at the end of our drive. As the four of us approached the restaurant, Matt paused at a large (and occupied) table near the front door. For a moment I wondered why, until I saw who was sitting at the table. None other than three more employees at Heirloom Café, my former restaurant. It was a surprise going away party for me, and though I’m generally very hard to surprise, I had had no idea.
There was champagne already poured and waiting, and after a brief discussion with our very friendly server, the food started arriving. Grilled peach salad, fresh burrata with bread, charred calamari, and a grilled romaine salad were the first round. Everything was fresh and light, and perfect at our picnic-type table in the beautiful afternoon sun. It also paired perfectly with the bubbles and the fantastic Ceritas white wine that Matt had brought along. Next came braised rabbit tagliatelli and pork sugo spagettini. Then two pizzas with more fresh burrata, sausage, hot peppers and basil. Everything was piping hot, perfectly seasoned, and soul satisfying to eat.
What took this meal over-the-top to memorable and ‘blog-worthy’ however, was the company. Midway through dinner, about the time we were onto our third bottle of wine, and conversation was non-stop (helped by the fact that a few members of our little dinner party had been wine tasting for most of the afternoon), I looked around and realized that everyone had taken several hours out of their Sundays, the one day a week the restaurant is closed, to drive nearly two hours to have dinner with me and send me off with gusto. I immediately felt that special kind of comfort, respect and love that can only be truly felt in situations such as this.
Saying goodbye, even if it is temporary, to all of the friends I have made over the last year, especially my co-workers at Heirloom Café is not an easy task. Not one that can be easily added to a list and then checked off. I spend upwards of fifty hours a week with these people, we eat dinner together every night, and often cap off service with a shared glass or two of wine. Not an easy thing to walk away from, even if I am headed toward something fantastic. My final thought before dozing off in the passenger seat on the way back into the city was this: I’m really pretty damn lucky.
-EC
At 3:45 on Sunday, I arrived at my former boss, Matt Straus’, house, needing to be there so early because we had a 5:30 reservation at a restaurant that was an hour and a half away. One of Matt’s favorite things to do is to leave the city and drive a long way for a meal. He says it somehow makes the experience more romantic. And I have to say, as we crossed over the always awe-inspiring Golden Gate Bridge, I was inclined to agree.
In the car was Matt, Steph, Myself, and my little sister, Lauren. The four of us were going out to one final meal before I was to leave San Francisco for seven months, en route to world exploration. Among other things, on the way we discussed a question that people in the restaurant industry are often asked, and more often than not, brush off as impossible to answer. What were the best meals we’d ever had?
I remembered a few meals in New York with my father; at Per Se, at Café Boulud, and at Gramercy Tavern, that were absolutely out of this world. Every single thing about those meals was perfect; from the timing, to the flavors, to the wine pairings. I have gone out to so many meals in my life expecting perfection, or at least as close to it as humanly possible, and been sorely disappointed. Matt didn’t recall so many meals as he did bottles of really amazing wine. Typical. Both of us, however, noted that often a meal isn’t made unforgettable by something tangible. More than anything I remember the feeling of eating next to my Dad, learning about him, explaining things about the food to him, and feeling proud when he was impressed by my food knowledge, since I had always considered him one of the smartest people I knew. Those experiences made me feel comforted, respected and loved. Things that are hard to find wrapped up into a dinner.
At 5:45 we pulled into the town of Healdsburg. The town, through being a little on the bourgy side, is quite charming. Most of the businesses line the town square, and the restaurant we were visiting was not an exception. Scopa, a very small and lively wood-oven pizza place with a smattering of salads and pastas was a welcomed sight at the end of our drive. As the four of us approached the restaurant, Matt paused at a large (and occupied) table near the front door. For a moment I wondered why, until I saw who was sitting at the table. None other than three more employees at Heirloom Café, my former restaurant. It was a surprise going away party for me, and though I’m generally very hard to surprise, I had had no idea.
There was champagne already poured and waiting, and after a brief discussion with our very friendly server, the food started arriving. Grilled peach salad, fresh burrata with bread, charred calamari, and a grilled romaine salad were the first round. Everything was fresh and light, and perfect at our picnic-type table in the beautiful afternoon sun. It also paired perfectly with the bubbles and the fantastic Ceritas white wine that Matt had brought along. Next came braised rabbit tagliatelli and pork sugo spagettini. Then two pizzas with more fresh burrata, sausage, hot peppers and basil. Everything was piping hot, perfectly seasoned, and soul satisfying to eat.
What took this meal over-the-top to memorable and ‘blog-worthy’ however, was the company. Midway through dinner, about the time we were onto our third bottle of wine, and conversation was non-stop (helped by the fact that a few members of our little dinner party had been wine tasting for most of the afternoon), I looked around and realized that everyone had taken several hours out of their Sundays, the one day a week the restaurant is closed, to drive nearly two hours to have dinner with me and send me off with gusto. I immediately felt that special kind of comfort, respect and love that can only be truly felt in situations such as this.
Saying goodbye, even if it is temporary, to all of the friends I have made over the last year, especially my co-workers at Heirloom Café is not an easy task. Not one that can be easily added to a list and then checked off. I spend upwards of fifty hours a week with these people, we eat dinner together every night, and often cap off service with a shared glass or two of wine. Not an easy thing to walk away from, even if I am headed toward something fantastic. My final thought before dozing off in the passenger seat on the way back into the city was this: I’m really pretty damn lucky.
-EC
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