I Capture the Castle and Bottega

When life is hard, I fall back on children's books. I Capture the Castle isn't quite a children's book and it's not really an adult book; it's sort of a fairy tale for those of us with no patience for "the prince will come and we'll live happily ever after." This book fills up a small leaky place in my heart every time I read it.

Bottega is a fairy tale too. It's one of those restaurants that seems to exist on a separate plane: you step through the doors and the rules change a little from the outside world. We walk in and glasses of sparkling wine are set down before we've even settled into our seats. We're brought lemon-braised artichokes and burrata (a kind of super-creamy soft mozzarella) on floral plates that would be right at home in my grandmother's good china cabinet. We're served small, sweet clams on delicate saffron fettucine and perfect asparagus topping a Meyer lemon risotto and airy puffs of ricotta gnocchi in a sauce the color of dark red velvet. Then we have gingerbread with coastal huckleberries, and an apple turnover with fennel seeds and caramel gelato.

Chiarello comes to sit with us and every one looks over to see who we are. The two women at the next table lean in, eager to hear what he is saying. He is saying that he was in D.C., where he'd gone for his wife's brother's wedding. Many of the guests were stranded by snow, stuck in airports all across the U.S. and then the caterer called to say there's no getting his truck through this snow so he won't be able to make the dinner. Chiarello listens quietly, sipping his coffee, while his wife's family runs around the room, throwing up their hands, squawking, pleading with the caterer to no avail. He's not budging. When they had exhausted all resources, Michael got on the phone. "Listen," he told the caterer, "I don't need you. I just need what's in your truck. You have two options. I can come to you and drive the truck. Or I can bring a few four-wheel vehicles and we can offload your truck, but either way, I'm getting all the stuff in your truck and I'm coming to get it now." Long pause from the caterer, and then he asks, "Who IS this?" Chiarello looks around the table, and we are all laughing, everyone who can hear him tell this story is laughing, and he doesn't need to say another word because of course that's the punch line -- imagining the caterer's face when he hears "This is Michael Chiarello."

And that's the thing about Chiarello. This is a man who is going to find a noble four-wheeled steed and he is going to save the day, record-breaking snowfall be damned. He's a romantic at heart and no true romantic can bear the idea of a bride with no wedding dinner. Chiarello came, he drove, he cooked and the wedding dinner was saved -- no, not just saved. The wedding dinner was fantastic. Poor caterer.

copyright 2010 Ann Krueger Spivack