Ain't No Pie Round HereI did not make apple pie this weekend.
Friday and Saturday nights at the restaurant were both harrowing. I ask you: why don't people arrive on time for their reservations? Why? When you make a 6:30 res on a busy weekend night, does it even occur to you that arriving at 6:55 with only part of your party is not good form? Or that, when you finally march to the host stand and announce that you are ready to sit down at 7:20, that your breezy tardiness has a direct effect on the diners whose reservations were made for later the same night?
I want people to be happy, I truly do, but when you insult one of my servers to the point that she is in tears, you shake your fist and threaten to leave a bad review, and you don't want to listen, only talk, how I can I make things better?
The highlight of the weekend occurred at about 10:20 on Saturday night, when one of the runners dropped a tray full of sizzling hot crabs right in front of a table. Garlic butter, anyone?
Suffice it to say that by Sunday I was not in the mood to putter about in the kitchen, and I had no heart for trying out restaurants that would likely disappoint. And so, on both of my nights off (Sunday & Monday), I ditched Novato and fled to the City for sushi. There is nothing quite so comforting as sitting down at a much-beloved counter in front of a familiar chef who delivers piece after piece of amazing fish-flesh. That, and a chilled glass of sake close at hand, will cure just about anything.
I am much better now, and the apples are still waiting, and I shall attend to them soon.