Amore

What do I say? What do I write? About that, as Food Critic for the local rag, I’m in a bit of a quandary. When I visited ‘Come to the Waters’ Restaurant, I was first struck with the simplicity and pleasantness of the atmosphere; that is, after I entered. From the outside the entrance was hardly noticeable… as is true of some of the Philly Steak shops in… well, Philadelphia. If you didn’t know the exact restaurant location there, you could drive right by. Anyway, here at ‘The Waters’ – that’s what folks call it – the door was quite narrow, but once I got in, let me say that the meat and drink I experienced was amazing. Yes, from what I’m told, the menu changes every day… I mean… every item,  not just an entree or two. One of the chefs laughed when I asked him about it. He said that he gave up asking. He learned to trust that the menu would be there when he came in, and he would be equipped to prepare what was offered that day. My chef then asked me if I enjoyed the meal. All I could do? Sputter like a simpleton.

Anyway, enough about the food… what put me into such a quandary was Amore. Who’s Amore? He’s the Maître’ Dei, and believed silent owner. Believed? Yes, not by all though. Most people around the area – including me before today – didn’t know about The Waters… if they did, they didn’t care who owned it. Anyway, about Amore. By his name? I thought he was Italian, but come to find out, he isn’t… well, he may have some blood. I guess you can say, he’s a little of everything and everyone. After a brief investigation into his background, those who work here: day and night managers… office and administrative staff… back-of-the-house chefs, cooks… kitchen workers… front-of-the house hosts, waiters… bussers… all said they loved and knew him, but I’m not sure any of them really did know him… not that they didn’t love him. It’s crazy, really.

What’s that you’re asking? The service? My gosh… I don’t know what to say or write about any of this evening. I felt I was the only one dining, and yet the tables were full… the conversations I overheard were lovely… no vulgarities… just affirming words and many expressed appreciation… all prayed before they dined… well, except me. As for my waiter? She was ever so attentive… and yet, unintrusive. When I asked a question, she graciously answered, and I had no reason to doubt her sincerity and truthfulness. I asked her about her manners, and she pointed to Amore. She explained that while she was given no formal training, she started out as a busser and more responsibility was given. “No training?” I asked. “No,” she replied and smiled, but then she walked back her response. Actually, there was something that Amore said to me and everyone:

“Whatever your duty, know that I assign all tables, and those I seat aren’t just those that come to dine, but include all of your respective positions and stations: administrative managers and staff serve all, front-of-the-house and back-of-the-house. Those of you in the front and back of the house know your positions and stations. We are called to serve one another, and as we do, those who come off the street to the dine at the Waters will know that they came to dine in a very special place where they will leave with no more hunger or thirst.”

“That’s it?” I asked.

“That’s Amore,” she answered.