We decided to go to Fresh, again. Can’t stay away from this oasis. Immediately with entry, greeted by my friend Kate. She delivered one of the most comforting, impressive, hospitality sittings. Ever. Mozzarella and exotic mushroom pizza, paired with some Ridge Zinfandel. But I want to focus on the service at Hemenway’s immaculate immensity. Our night, was truly flawless, strangely serene, thanks to distinguished cuisine, and truly Human service. What Kate delivered, not easy to execute. I can attest, firsthand, exceptional hospitality is not effortlessly rendered. Cheers, Kate. Nice to see you, and thank you for being the evening’s pristine luminary.
After a dinner incredible, I’m in domicile, thinking of what I want to say during 2morrow’s interview. Realizing, I need to just let it unfold. When plans attract tidal waves of priority, they implode. I won’t be censored, but I won’t be scripted either, even by Self. Need to get to New York. Paris, again. And, Portugal. This New Year, entailing wishes, those attainable, those distant as well. The telescopic aim of owning my own wine bar, entertained following the visit to Fresh. To steer a vessel that offers a relaxing spot, for regular people, true Humans, would be a thrill incomparable. One of the many acquired thrills from the tasting Room: sharing moments memorable with good people.
The life of hospitality, not easy. You can ask me, Kate, not that my executions are anywhere near brilliant as hers, my comrades in the Room, those on a table’s wait. Attributes the industry needs to appreciate: reciprocity and appreciation, kindness, relatable reality, Humanness. Fresh has pushed this author into a contemplative cave. For what, who cares. It’s effect on my authorial frame, lamented. Glad we decided to eat there. That Ridge Zin, still in the cognitive corridors. With a Year New at proximal bow, promise is promised. My novel, soon forwarded to its deserved fruition, on its nurturing, hospitable, shelf. Sip, sip...