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Except, now I need to know.
There’s one practical way for me to get on the radar for a James Beard, and it’s winning this Cucina Award. This opportunity won’t happen again for another four years.
“I’m just curious which award you’re talking about.”
He’s on alert. I don’t care.
I only care about his answer.
“The Cucina.”
No.
No, no, no.
“The Cucina?” I ask casually. “I thought you had to be open for a year to be nominated?”
It can’t be.
“I thought so too. But I talked to someone from the magazine today about my nomination. Turns out it’s a year of experience, not a year in business. And since I’ve been in the restaurant business for years . . . I was surprised too.”
Knowing the answer, I ask anyway.
“When are you being judged?”
As if it’s not bad enough to be pitted against places like La Vecchia in Scranton. They won four years ago and are the favorite again this year. But DeLuca’s II? Bridgewater has been going crazy for them since they opened, and Tris knows his food. Even if he doesn’t fully realize it.
“Next weekend. It’s kind of quick, to be honest.”
Of course next weekend. It’s common for judges to visit multiple locations while in the same city or town. And I’m actually not surprised he was nominated. All it takes is for one person, other than those directly associated with the restaurant, to send in a nomination. If they check out, regional judges are sent out. Once past that initial round, an actual judge from the magazine is sent out for the semifinal round.
“Evie? Are you alright?”
No, I’m not.
“I . . .” Might as well fess up. He’ll know anyway soon. “I was nominated too.”
16
Tristano
“Glad I could help.” Cole flips his laptop closed from behind his desk. “I don’t think you’ll have anything to worry about, but I’ll keep an eye on it.”
“Thanks, Cole, I appreciate it.”
Talk of the new zoning in the vicinity of my restaurant, which could affect outdoor seating, isn’t what had me coming here in person. I could have called Cole to talk to him about this. Most weeks I sneak out of the restaurant for at least an hour of basketball with the guys, but not this week. Not with the Cucina judges coming on Friday night. Since I was downtown anyway, I figured I’d pop in for a few minutes.
“So how was the rest of the festival?”
I saw Cole twice this weekend when he and Zara stopped by the tent.
“Crazy busy.”
“At least the weather held out after Thursday.”
“Thank God. I think it was the first, or maybe second, year you were in law school. We had three bad days. Basically a monsoon. My dad still talks about how much money he lost.”
Having the shop closed and nearly nonexistent traffic at the festival made for a less than ideal situation.
