I was six and it was my best friend's birthday. We had been inseparable since we met at age 2 (and are still great friends all these years later). Her godfather was an Italian man named Luciano who was the Maitre D' at Cafe Promenade, now Lime (not even comparable). Our parents were involved with the symphony and so we had already spent many late nights sleeping on booths in the back while they ate lavish meals at 11pm. But beginning that year and repeating for many occasions to follow (Easter, birthdays, Christmastime), Luciano invited us to come dine at the cafe. We descended the stairs alone (parents waving from the parking lot) dressed in our little dresses, frilly socks and mary janes. Luciano greeted us, took our coats and saw us to our table. We then learned how to eat escargot (and how to be a snob about it when encountering it in a frightful restaurant in upstate New York- apparently we weren't taught where NOT to order it), what to do with the variety of silverware and to fall in love with a perfect chocolate mousse. I remember the looks we got from the other grownup diners and I remember how special and wonderful I felt- not only to receive the VIP treatment, but to sense what a treat it was to get all dolled up and truly appreciate the privilege it was to enjoy such good food. That experience enlightened me to the finer things in life (but I suppose also tortured me for pining for them) and left a lasting impression that I will never forget.
What a great experience. And it puts a big fat grin on my face to think of these two adorable six-year-olds, wide-eyed and on top of the world, sitting down in front of crisp white linen among all the staring grown-ups.
Congratulations to Marina. I also have an Italian godfather in a totally non-sketchy way. His name is Vito. I hope you enjoy Harvest Week and all that these EatDenver restaurants (when did they drop the DINR thing?) have to offer.
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