I grew up working in New York restaurants. Working in restaurants forever shapes your understanding of the world. You're literally in the "right place," in the frenzy of service (at 8:30 on a Friday night). It's electric: shouted orders, laughter, shitty music your loser boss plays on repeat, crazy line cooks, drinking, first dates, possibilities, old friends. The outside world is sealed off by the walls of the bistro. Inside, you escape or go inside to experience the scene, the aroma, the food. This is a snapshot of a New York bistro from the '90s and '00s, when tourists ordered peartini, vegetables became sophisticated, and people wore fresh, aquatic perfumes.
I grew up working in New York restaurants. Working in restaurants forever shapes your understanding of the world. You're literally in the "right place," in the frenzy of service (at 8:30 on a Friday night). It's electric: shouted orders, laughter, shitty music your loser boss plays on repeat, crazy line cooks, drinking, first dates, possibilities, old friends. The outside world is sealed off by the walls of the bistro. Inside, you escape or go inside to experience the scene, the aroma, the food. This is a snapshot of a New York bistro from the '90s and '00s, when tourists ordered peartini, vegetables became sophisticated, and people wore fresh, aquatic perfumes.