Beginnings

The night is cool. The sort of fresh crisp and sharp air you'd expect of an autumn night. I'm desperately trying to  navigate through the dark streets in unfamiliar territory. I'm already late and beginning to worry when I find it. La Taverne. I quickly find parking and hurry along down to the restaurant.

La Taverne is located on a corner of a four way intersection in a trendy part of town. The muted lighting reflecting off the burnished mahoghany tables give it a warm inviting glow as I approach. Passing the two-story high pane glass windows towards the entrance I can see that it's crowded. Standing room only. The black clad servers carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres and champagne glide through the throngs of people in their little knots of conversation. A guitarist and someone playing an upright bass are sending out waves of smooth jazz that mix with the constant murmur of conversation. It's a gala. I've never been to a gala before, or rather, not anything that I could accurately describe as a gala. They're pretty claustrophobic affairs, and already I'm not liking it. I walk up the short flight of stairs, weaving between people and make my way to the main floor and try to track down anyone that looks like they are there in some sort of official capacity. It's hopeless. There are just too many people. I eventually manage to catch the attention of the bartender.

Throwing out the horns

Taking the leap. There's at once a certain dreaminess thinking about what you're passionate about. Sort of like planning what you'd do with all the money if you won the lottery. Then there is the cold reality of actually making a decision to change part of your life. I put off calling Chef C for a whole weekend, then finally screwed up my courage and just dialed the numbers off the hastily scrawled and smudged numbers on the notepad I always keep tucked in my back pocket.

"uhm...hello?" I asked.

All I can hear is the very loud buzz of people in a bar full swing at happy hour. The murmur of people all talking at once, the clink of glasses and liquids being poured. There's nothing but that for a while then someone says something on the other end. I can't hear them properly over the din of the crowd, and I don't understand a thing.

"Hello?" I asked again, then suddenly there is quiet.