My husband's first restaurant opened to friends and family last night, a full year after its anticipated opening date (oops). It was a proud moment for the Palombino family - even though the service was awful, the orders weren't printing in the kitchen, and our vintage delivery bike was nearly stolen, we were open. It was an extraordinarily special day for me, because for the first time in four years, I had the opportunity to eat my husband's food.
Mathieu cooks for hundreds - occasionally thousands - of people each day, but I have never been one of them. I'm not a jealous woman, but it can be hard to handle a stranger raving about my wildly talented husband and his delicious food when I haven't experienced it for myself. Honestly, I don't know how I've allowed this to happen - I love my husband and I love to eat. Our schedules are crazy, we never have a babysitter, he has a huge banquet, I have a headache... there's always something keeping me from dining while he's in the kitchen.
Needless to say, it was a huge deal for me to sit down at a table and order from his menu last night. While I didn't actually get the food that I ordered (see "awful service," above), it was amazing. My admiration for my wonderful husband didn't need reinforcing, but it gives me confidence to know that the pizza I ate is the same pizza that puts a roof over our head and keeps our son in diapers. Hopefully, the octopus I ate is the same octopus that will put me in a great winter wardrobe, but I'll wait until next week to bring that up.
Bonne Maman from Something Sweet