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Served: Like Home, Only Better

Posted by Hannah Howard, October 14, 2008 at 8:30 AM

I blog by day and wait tables by night. I'm excited to bring you Served, dispatches from the front of the house. Enjoy!

I remember Zach Brooks’s reaction upon news that I worked in one of his favorite spots: “That place is like the Cheers of wine bars,” he said. Sometimes, it is.

I Want to Play but Have to Work

I really, really didn’t want to leave the New York Food and Wine Festival on Saturday and book it to a long night of waiting tables. I mean really didn’t want to leave.

I waited until the last possible moment, then tried to hunt down a cab. The task proved more than a little challenging. When I finally got the attention of the driver of an empty taxi, a man with a man-purse threatened to jump in from behind me and usurp my ride. Not so fast!

We jerked along in dense traffic. The cab was hot and smelly. I made it to work only two minutes late, feeling shaky, queasy, and generally unwonderful.

Soup and Hugs Cure All

There was delicious family meal waiting for me: chorizo stew. Man did it hit the spot. After spicy, soothing stew in my belly and a hug from J., I was feeling much better and ready to embark on my night.

The place was filling up fast. I made the rounds with a water pitcher. Who was the guy in the yellow shirt? It was S., who used to cook at my restaurant. His father, who I had heard a bunch about, was visiting from Turkey. They were eating endive salad and drinking Yamhill Valley Pinot Noir.

S. clued me in that Dad did not speak any English only after my attempt to engage his father in conversation. I learned that S. is cooking at Del Posto these days—he is exhausted, learning a lot on the fish station, and happy.

It was cool to have him on the other side of the line, eating the food he used to cook and plate. When we worked together, he helped to satisfy many a midnight sweet duck sausage craving, and we had countless discussions about what we wanted to do and learn next. And here he was, doing it.

Friends and Family

Over cocktails the night before, while avoiding the advances of a pair of lame, drunken, and cluelessly persistent boys, Erin Zimmer of Serious Eats fame mentioned that her friend Matt was visiting from DC, and that a trip to my place might be in the cards. Sure enough, there she and Matt were, sitting in my station.

On Saturday nights, when much of the world is playing, I’m working and thus unable to be out and about gallivanting with friends. Having them come to me is a great consolation prize.

Five of my oldest friends from childhood in Baltimore had come from the Upper East Side, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts and Baltimore. Erin met them on her way out. I hadn’t seen some of them since high school, and here they were at a table in the corner, looking unfathomably beautiful, drinking Pork Slap beer and eating ricotta cheesecake.

M., who cooks and waits tables with me, was drinking and eating with his boyfriend and a friend. "Hannah Banana Montana!" M. called by way of hello.

I went to take a drink order from them: “what are you guys drinking tonight?”.

But M. was a step ahead of me; “B. went downstairs to get it!” he said. Very well.

At midnight, I looked around and realized I knew everyone in the place. There was T., a sweetheart who sells us wine, with a stunning woman I assumed to be his date. At the bar, a regular and friend who owns the burger shop next door was drinking torrontes and chatting with our owner. It looked heated: they had probably gotten into one of their irritated political spats.

There were my Baltimore girls, and M. and his crew, and another regular: a lawyer who I've always liked. I've hung out with him late into the night, drinking rose and stepping outside to smoke and sit on the steps and talk about whatever.

Sure, I was at work. I had to pour wine, fold napkins, slice baguette, and answer the same question 723 times. But I was surrounded by people who I loved. I felt the love coming back, in my direction. Food and Wine Festival and all, I thought, there is nowhere I rather be.

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