{"id":4464,"date":"2021-04-29T14:53:24","date_gmt":"2021-04-29T21:53:24","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/?p=4464"},"modified":"2021-04-29T14:53:24","modified_gmt":"2021-04-29T21:53:24","slug":"the-waiter","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/archives\/4464","title":{"rendered":"The Waiter"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Philip is forty-seven and has been a waiter in fine restaurants for twenty years. Handsome with dark brown eyes and curly black hair kept short, he is innately graceful and surprisingly strong for one so slender. Born in Connecticut, the middle child between two sisters, Philip\u2019s father was second-generation Italian and twenty years older than Philip\u2019s mother who hailed from Lyon, France and raised her children to speak French at home, English in the outside world. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

At seventeen Philip got a job in the\nkitchen of an excellent restaurant in Manhattan, and three restaurants later,\nat the age of twenty-seven, having risen steadily through the ranks, he was\noffered the job of head chef at a restaurant of exceeding fame. The attainment\nof his lifelong goal caused a riot in his psyche and he abruptly left the\nkitchen for the tables. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

*<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHelp me, Philip,\u201d says Miles\nLevinson, a hefty fellow of sixty-three with thinning gray hair and a deep\ngravelly voice who dines with his guests at Le\nSc\u00e9l\u00e9rat<\/em> in Berkeley, California three evenings a week and will only<\/em> have Philip as his waiter. \u201cI\u2019m\ntorn between the escalope of salmon with\nGigondas<\/em> and the filets mignons of\nveal with lemon<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe salmon was caught this\nmorning,\u201d says Philip, who prefers not to make choices for his customers. \u201cThe\nveal is as tender as veal can be. Whether you would enjoy one more than the\nother I cannot say.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow politic of you, Philip,\u201d says\nAmy Cavanaugh, a sharply pretty redhead who dines with Miles most Thursday\nevenings. \u201cBut if you had<\/em> to choose\none or the other, which would it be?\u201d   <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe salmon,\u201d says Philip, gazing at\nher and thinking This is my job. I play\nthe part of a waiter who seems fond of the people he serves, when in fact I\nneither like nor dislike most of them.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAha!\u201d says Miles, grinning at\nPhilip. \u201cI was leaning<\/em> toward the\nsalmon.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Philip nods and returns his gaze to\nAmy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe veal for me.\u201d She smiles\narchly. \u201cIf you will assure<\/em> me the\nmignons are fabulous.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI assure you,\u201d says Philip, taking\ntheir menus. \u201cYour usual Caesar salads?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, and a bottle of the Pavillon Blanc du Ch\u00e2teau Margaux<\/em>,\u201d says\nMiles, choosing the most expensive white wine in the extensive wine list. \u201cDivinely\ndry for the divine fish and calf.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh and a bowl of olives,\u201d says Amy,\nbouncing her eyebrows. \u201cSome of those naughty Nyons.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cComing soon to a table near you,\u201d\nsays Philip, bowing graciously as they laugh at his tired old quip.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

*<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When Philip was thirty-four, seven\nyears into his career as a waiter, he moved from New York to Los Angeles where he\nsoon became the star waiter at a restaurant with no name hidden in a windowless\nwarehouse in North Hollywood, the clientele movie people and the very wealthy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tips were pooled at this elegant nameless\nrestaurant, but the clientele got around this by secreting cash and checks in\nenvelopes and slipping those envelopes to Philip at opportune times during their\nmeals. In this way Philip made more money most weeks at the nameless restaurant\nthan he made in a month as a waiter in New York.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After three years in Los Angeles, recently\ndivorced and weary of the drab winters and hot summers and never-clean air, he\nmoved to San Francisco, and two years later moved across the bay to Berkeley where\nhe has worked at Le Sc\u00e9l\u00e9rat <\/em>for nine\nyears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

*<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPhilip,\u201d says Miles, slurring his\nwords after downing three large bourbons at the bar before being seated, \u201cthis\nmy friend Marie.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Philip nods to the comely brunette,\nher steel-rimmed glasses comically large on her exquisite face. \u201cWelcome to Le Sc\u00e9l\u00e9rat.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMiles says you\u2019re the finest waiter\nhe\u2019s ever known,\u201d says Marie, perusing her menu rather than looking at Philip. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow kind of you,\u201d says Philip, nodding\nto Miles. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAllan was raving about the loin of lamb \u00e0 la bonne femme<\/em> when he finally<\/em> seated us,\u201d says Miles, waving\nto someone he thinks he knows. \u201cHorrid long wait tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSaturday nights are often\nproblematic,\u201d says Philip, repeating what he\u2019s said to Miles a hundred times\nbefore. \u201cI apologize.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShall we just skip the menu and get\nthe bonne femme<\/em>?\u201d asks Miles, fumbling\nwith his reading glasses.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf you wish,\u201d says Philip, turning\nto Marie to see what she thinks of Miles\u2019s impulse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFine,\u201d she says, sounding hurt, and\nPhilip intuits she was hoping for more of a show from him before settling into\ndining.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMiles always has the Caesar salad,\u201d\nsays Philip, thinking Don\u2019t be hurt,\nMarie. There\u2019s still wine and appetizers to discuss.<\/em> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFine,\u201d she says again, glaring at\nMiles. \u201cWhatever his royal highness wants.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFor the wine\u2026\u201d says Miles, leafing\nthrough the large wine list. \u201cOh shit. You\u2019re out of the Chateau Lafite\nRothschild Pauillac? How did that<\/em>\nhappen?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo sorry,\u201d says Philip, mildly. \u201cThe\ncase went quickly. And though the Pauillac would have been ideal with the lamb,\nmay I suggest the Louis Jadot Gevrey-Chambertin? I don\u2019t think you\u2019ll be\ndisappointed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI am<\/em> disappointed,\u201d says Miles, glowering at Philip. \u201cTerribly. You\u2019re\nabsolutely certain<\/em> you don\u2019t have a\nbottle of the Pauillac stashed away somewhere for your special<\/em> guests?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe have no guests more special than\nyou,\u201d says Philip, smiling warmly. \u201cExcept the queen of England, and she has\nyet to make an appearance.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNot funny,\u201d says Miles, snarling.\n\u201cI wanted the Rothschild Chafite Lateau.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy apologies,\u201d says Philip, bowing.\n\u201cHow may we appease you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI want to talk to Sandra,\u201d says\nMiles, intoning the name of the famous owner\/chef of Le Sc\u00e9l\u00e9rat. <\/em>\u201cI\u2019ve been coming here three nights a week seventeen\nyears, since long before you<\/em> were\nhere and I resent being treated this way.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe will not come to the dining\nroom,\u201d says Philip, accustomed to Miles throwing the occasional tantrum, copious\nhard liquor the usual cause. \u201cIf you will accompany me, I will ask her to step\nout of the kitchen to speak to you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh never mind,\u201d says Miles, waving\nhim away. \u201cJust bring the fucking lamb and the crappy Chambertin. And bring us\nsome kind of prawn something for appetizer. I\u2019ll call Sandra tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAs you wish,\u201d says Philip, nodding\ngraciously and departing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

*<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Married twice, Philip\u2019s first\nmarriage lasted two years and ended when he gave up his cooking career to\nbecome a waiter\u2014his wife unwilling to forgive him for abandoning the dream she\nhelped him attain. His second marriage lasted three years and ended a year\nafter he and his actress wife arrived in Los Angeles from New York and she was\ncast in a successful sit-com and thereafter left Philip for a television\nproducer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

*<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Before heading home after a long Saturday night at Le Sc\u00e9l\u00e9rat, <\/em>and only because Sandra asks her staff to do so, Philip reports Miles\u2019s displeasure to Sandra.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThank you, Philip,\u201d she says, small\nand stout in her late sixties, her short gray hair colored to resemble dirty\nblonde. \u201cHe probably won\u2019t<\/em> call, but\nI appreciate knowing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now they exchange looks of mutual\nadmiration and Sandra adds, \u201cHe\u2019s such<\/em>\nan ass, but so very rich. You\u2019re a saint to put up with him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe doesn\u2019t bother me,\u201d says Philip, truthfully. \u201cAt his worst he is the faintest echo of my father.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

*<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Philip rents a small cottage in the\nBerkeley hills behind the house of a longtime patron of Le Sc\u00e9l\u00e9rat, <\/em>and spends his free time taking long walks, playing\nthe piano, gardening, browsing in bookstores, going to farmers\u2019 markets, and\nrefining recipes for a cookbook he\u2019s been assembling for a decade, working\ntitle: Delicious Meals for the Somewhat\nAmbitious Cook.<\/em> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He has two old friends living\nelsewhere with whom he corresponds by mail, and five good friends in his life\nnow: Marcel in San Francisco, also a waiter, Marcel\u2019s wife Andrea, a sous-chef,\nFred, a landscape architect, Fred\u2019s wife Joan, a professor of European History\nat Mills College, and Lisa, a massage therapist. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

For the last two years, Philip and Lisa\nhave been sleeping with each other two nights a week, neither wanting to ruin\ntheir friendship by embarking on a full-time relationship.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And every three weeks, Philip hosts\na dinner for his five friends at which he unveils the latest iterations of his\nculinary creations.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

*<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI want you to have this,\u201d says\nMiles, offering Philip a pale blue envelope. \u201cI feel terrible about how I\ntreated you on Saturday night. Marie and I were scuffling and I drank too much\nat the bar, and\u2026 please. Take it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNot necessary,\u201d says Philip, shaking\nhis head. \u201cYou were upset. I understand.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease<\/em>,\u201d\nsays Miles, urgently. \u201cIt\u2019s the least<\/em>\nI can do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d says Philip, taking the\nenvelope and turning to Miles\u2019s companion, a voluptuous blonde falling out of a\ndiminutive dress resembling a gossamer undergarment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAh,\u201d says Miles, grinning\ngigantically, \u201cthis is Beverly. Beverly, the aforementioned Philip.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe says you\u2019re the best, Phil,\u201d\nsays Beverly with a thick southern drawl, her lips voluptuous, too. \u201cYou go by\nPhil or Philip?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhichever you prefer,\u201d says Philip,\nenjoying Beverly\u2019s near nudity, a rarity at\nLe Sc\u00e9l\u00e9rat<\/em>. \u201cYour first time here?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFirst time in the good<\/em> seats,\u201d she says, smiling\nlasciviously at Miles. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTell us about the sole \u00e0 la meuni\u00e8re<\/em>,\u201d says Miles,\nrelieved to have everything right again with Philip.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSole\n\u00e0 la meuni\u00e8re<\/em> is one of Sandra\u2019s signature dishes,\u201d says Philip, wishing Sandra\ndidn\u2019t use quite so much butter in the sauce. \u201cAnd as you know, Miles, she only\nmakes this dish when the sole is extremely fresh. She is serving it tonight\nwith shitake mushrooms, Japanese eggplant, zucchini, and butter-boiled baby potatoes.\nDelicious and going fast.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOoo yummy,\u201d says Beverly, doing a\nlittle shimmy of excitement. \u201cLets get a couple of those, Milesy. Okay?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes,\u201d says Miles, leafing through\nthe wine menu. \u201cOh goody! You\u2019ve got the Chateau d\u2019Yquem 2015 Sauternes.\nExcellent. A chilly bottle of that, please.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTwo Caesar salads?\u201d says Philip, speaking\nto Beverly\u2019s breasts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOoo yummy,\u201d she says again, and\nPhilip is tickled by her lack of pretense.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd we\u2019ll want the perfect\nappetizer to accompany Sandra\u2019s masterwork,\u201d says Miles, handing his menu to\nPhilip. \u201cSurprise us. Will you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAs you wish,\u201d says Philip, knowing perfectly\nwell what Miles wants\u2014broiled scallops swimming in white wine and butter. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

*<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lolling in his bed with Lisa, neither\nof them working today, Philip suggests they have coffee on the terrazzo before wandering\ndown to Solano Avenue for lunch, Chinese or Mexican.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMexican, por favor,\u201d says Lisa, thirty-nine,\na lanky brunette who was born in Brazil and came to California when she was ten.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou know,\u201d says Philip, sighing\ncontentedly, \u201cI think I\u2019d like to move with you to a small town where we\u2019d live\nin an old farmhouse and have a big vegetable garden and a dog and cats and you\u2019d\nhave your studio next to the house and I\u2019d work a few nights a week at the best\nrestaurant in town, even if that restaurant is only a steak house.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m getting there,\u201d says Lisa, her\nhand on his heart. \u201cSlowly but surely.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now she gets out of bed and pulls\nback the curtain on the sunny day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNothing left to prove,\u201d he says,\nadmiring her naked at the window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNothing fancy anyway,\u201d she says, giving\nhim a dreamy look. \u201cJust love.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

fin<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Just Love<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Philip is forty-seven and has been a waiter in fine restaurants for twenty years. Handsome with dark brown eyes and curly black hair kept short, he is innately graceful and surprisingly strong for one so slender. Born in Connecticut, the middle child between two sisters, Philip\u2019s father was second-generation Italian and twenty years older than […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[6685,6687,6684,6686,6683,6682],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4464"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4464"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4464\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4468,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4464\/revisions\/4468"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4464"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4464"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4464"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}