“Everyone says that trend is over, but never underestimate the American love for all things bacon.”
Lindsay smiled. “I think cupcakes are also proving to have staying power. A few years ago, all the little cupcake bakeries in the Village started getting replaced with macaron shops, but I think they’re going back. Everyone loves cupcakes.”
“It seems like a bad strategy to build a business around one trendy item.”
“Do you make macarons?”
“Ican. I haven’t for the café yet. Although, I wonder if I could give them little cat ears. I’ll have to experiment.”
“I have never successfully made a macaron. I caught the flu this past winter and wound up spending almost a whole week on my couch. I watched like three seasons of that British baking show, and I came away convinced I could make macarons. As soon as I recovered enough to stand upright in my kitchen, I gave it a shot. I failed spectacularly. They came out flat and misshapen.”
“It takes some practice. I’ll show you the trick sometime.”
“We used to talk about cooking together but hardly ever got around to it.”
Brad nodded. That was true. In their culinary school days, they did most of their cooking at school or work. Brad still liked the idea of him and Lindsay sharing space in a kitchen, working together to prepare a meal for their friends. He liked that picture immensely.
“We used to talk about opening a restaurant together,” said Brad, fully letting himself revel in nostalgia.
“Yeah. I thought about that a lot back in culinary school. We’d be partners, you know? Me as executive chef, you as pastry chef.”
“Sure. If we did it now, what kind of food would we make?”
“American, probably. Maybe with a focus on seafood. Mediterranean influences because I really like that flavor profile. Light, delicious, nothing very heavy.”
“So, uh, no little crocks of lasagna covered in red sauce.”
Lindsay laughed. “God, no. Don’t get me wrong. I love Italian food, but for my own restaurant, I’d want to serve food people feel good about eating. Then they can opt to have a decadent dessert if that’s how they roll.”
Brad liked the sound of that. “You have thought this through. Recently, I mean.”
“Yeah, I guess I have. It’s been on the brain. I reviewed a crab shack in Red Hook last summer that reminded me how much I love seafood. It doesn’t even have to be fancy. I took the girls and Evan and we ordered this clam-bake-for-four option. It was literally a metal bucket full of seafood, but they used their own seasoning mix and everything was cooked perfectly. Just picnic tables on a deck with a bit of a breeze coming in off the water. Sometimes food like that beats the food at a Michelin-star restaurant. Pretentious doesn’t always mean good.”
Brad smiled at that. “You know, I spend almost more time talking about food than making food.”
Lindsay laughed. “I definitely do. But food is kind of our whole lives, isn’t it?”
“Well, not mywholelife. I like…baseball. And video games. And now cats. I have a pet cat.”
“Me too. Those cats do make your life better in ways you don’t expect.” Lindsay smiled. “And I know you will tell me this is blasphemy, but the food is better at Citi Field than at Yankee Stadium.”
“Thatisblasphemy, but I appreciate how you were able to turn one of my nonfood interests back into food.”
“Have you eaten at both to compare?”
“As a matter of fact, I have. You remember Sam from culinary school? His brother has season tickets to the Mets, so Sam and I use them sometimes. So, having sampled the cuisines of both teams, I can say that Citi Field has more options near the cheap seats, but you can get a better steak sandwich at Yankee Stadium. I of course did a lot of testing. For science.”
“Of course.”
“The Yanks are having a great season.”
“That’s good. I don’t care about baseball.”
“I know. I don’t care that you don’t care.”
Lindsay shook her head. “I did used to like going to games with you.”
“That is a thing we can do this summer. I have season tickets to the Yankees that I end up giving to Aaron a lot because I work all the time. My seats are over first base.”
