This potato salad is pretty good.
This morning, after tending to Fille overnight in 2-hour intervals all night long, waking up at 7 to hang out vertically for a little bit with Garçon before he went to his class, and then reading a little bit to map out the strategy for today, I thought, kind of out of nowhere, like a song I forgot I knew by heart once, I am slammed.
I do not know if anyone else uses that in the same way as it is used in a restaurant -- slammed. But it wasn't a feeling, it was a statement of fact: your section got seated in 15 minutes, plus an overflow table and a party 10-top; the kitchen would say it because the line was filled with tickets left to right, the entire night; the dishwasher would say it because he had to wash saute pans as fast as the line could put them back to him; the bartender or the maître d’ would say it in nights of heavy crowd control, demanding facetime.
But in that statement, from any one of us, or collectively, -- I am slammed -- there was an implicit challenge to prevail. We knew from experience that we would look back in four or five hours and toast the night we ruled this shit, again. So to think that thought again, and to remember everything it conjured, I mean, let it be so. Now, as then, I have got the best people on my team doing what they do to make sure we all look good as we go on. Cheers xo