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We had a few bright moments, including a pajama Saturday, but those snapshots of time only make the whole situation worse for me. I’m grateful I get to experience them, and then even more remorseful for what no longer is. And what we’ve missed for all those years I was gone.
My only friend here is Mila, and she is really tied more to my LA life than my past here. And then there is Massi who avoided me, and now… I don’t know what’s going on now.
After our moment in the corridor at the back entrance two weeks ago, we both somehow put on professional hats and have continued to float around each other, pretending nothing happened.
He went back to his glowering, which is for the best. I think. If only my heart could find a comfortable beat whenever I’m in his vicinity. Seriously, the man is going to give me an arrhythmia.
Last weekend I traveled to LA again to spend time with Sebastien and we planned for his visit here with me. I miss him so much, I practically want to run to the airport every evening. He has a break coming up in a few weeks and he’ll spend it here with me.
I want to introduce him to my mom, though I know it might only stir up shit. I may need to consult her doctor to ensure her heart can handle it.
The work at Casa Cassi has—weirdly—been a welcome distraction. Aside from the proximity of the owner himself. After dining there several nights in a row, I agreed with Mila that he was indeed an artist. I’ve always known he was a talented chef, but the way his skills have matured over time caught me by surprise.
It was his pecan crusted halibut with Dijon sauce that left no doubt in my mind that he deserved the star. He deserves all the fame and recognition because he is amazing. The best.
His culinary artistry is probably the only part of him I’m not confused about. He comes up with enticing flavors and has the courage to experiment. He stands out, and I know that because over the years I’ve eaten food prepared by masters. And Massimo Cassinetti is one.
But what’s surprised me even more is his ability to command respect. It’s in a a very gruff, nearly violent way, but I’ve observed that people who care about their work don’t fear him. They don’t ridicule his behavior—he presents a full asshole package. They simply accept and respect him.
I’ve spent weeks pondering what draws them to him. Because his team’s dedication isn’t only driven by their need to learn from him. To get the best training and move on. And it isn’t the pleasant work environment for sure. It is his fairness. What I see in his kitchen is fascinating.
Massi leads with a choleric energy, but he leads. He doesn’t micromanage. He expects the highest dedication, but everyone on his team gets a chance to learn, an opportunity to grow. And also room to fail. He yells to command excellence, but not so much when someone screws up.
I find myself wanting the star for him more than is reasonable. Or healthy, for that matter.
“You think we could pull it off in two weeks?” Phillip scratches his beard, glancing at Lena. She exudes calm confidence and Phillip often consults with her. They seem like perfect partners, in business and I am sure in personal life as well.
We’re standing by the bar. It’s morning and she looks like she’s been up for a while now, but she never complains. We all nurse a cup of coffee while the cleaning crew is polishing the tables, preparing to open.
“Massi and I can be ready, of course, but such an event requires more than an amazing menu.” She looks at me.
I nod. “We can be ready. The shorter the lead time, the more hype we could create. It would be like a pop-up, one-time-only dining opportunity, which would create a sense of exclusivity. We have several bloggers and influencers lined up who are interested in such private dining experience.
“Now that we have a good team here covering the floor to meet the kitchen’s excellence, I have more time to focus on the event. This would be a great opportunity to assess the new processes and put the team’s skills to the test while I’m still here.”
Mila has been working her ass off, eating here every day with a different influencer, expanding her reach beyond the typical food critics. Soon there will be features on several high-profile accounts highlighting the decor, the story of the restaurant and reviews of several dishes.
“Think of it as an opening event,” Mila explains. “Only obviously we can’t open an already opened and well-known restaurant, so we will create a private dining evening to get exposure on social media. And word of mouth. We need a high-profile guest list, so think of any socialite or business tycoon you could invite to increase the prestige of the event. But we have the basics covered.”
“Okay, I’m in.” Phillip smiles and stands up. “Discuss the details with Massi and prepare the menu.” He kisses Lena’s temple and she blushes.
“Could you also make sure Massi is in a reasonably good mood at ten o’clock? The editor from theSunday Timesis coming to interview him. Now, we got her here because she owed us a favor, but it doesn’t guarantee she’ll run the feature. It’s Massi’s job to make it happen.” I bite my lip, searching Lena’s face.
“I can’t guarantee his best behavior, but Massi is not a stupid man. He understands the importance.” With that, she plants a kiss on Phillip’s cheek and ambles back to the kitchen.
“Great,” he says, probably to us, but it’s not clear since his eyes remain on Lena. The man practically worships the floor she walks on. Mila looks at me and fans herself.
“We’ll prepare the list of invitees and get going on some creative invitations.” She whirls around, typing on her phone.
“I think we should go with something more clandestine than an official invitation. Maybe we just text people, as if they didn’t get on the official guest list, but we’re making it possible to squeeze them in?” I’m getting excited about the event.
“Ooh, I love that. We can personalize every invite that way.” Mila chews on the inside of her lip, something she does when she’s thinking. I adore that she’s already taken my idea and improved it.
“I’ll leave you to it, ladies. Should I stay for the interview?” We both turn, having forgotten Phillip was still there.
“I think the fewer people hovering around, the better. Has he done big interviews before?” Something tells me Massi wouldn’t enjoy it.
“We had an invitation to a morning show and a few media requests, but Massi’s always refused, claiming he belonged in the kitchen.” Phillip rakes his hand through his hair.
